“For the last time, Lux, I’m sorry.”
An unimpressed huff echoes through my phone. “Apologies don’t make the abandonment sting any less.”
“You are so fucking dramatic.”
“Don’t curse at me, Oscar.”
“Sorry, Alexandra.”
“Don’t start with me,” she warns, the sound of something slamming in the background only emphasizing her bad mood. The same one she’s been in since I fled the house at the beginning of the weekend, barely calling a goodbye as I frantically booked a flight.
We don’t take well to being ditched, us Jacksons.
“I’m sorry, Lux.”
My sister grunts, her sullen attitude prominent even as she asks, “Is your friend okay?”
“My girlfriend is fine.”
“Your what?”
Exactly the reaction I expected. “My girlfriend.”
Complete silence lasts for at least a minute. And then, an ear-splitting shriek full of an insulting amount of disbelief. “Girls! Oscar has a girlfriend!”
In a matter of milliseconds, a whole fucking chorus of shouting breaks out, so loud I actually have to hold my phone away from my ear.
Among the cacophony, I make out Eliza’s voice. “Is it the blonde girl from Walmart? The one who looks like Barbie? Can we meet her? Oh my God, Caroline is gonna freak out.”
I don’t dare acknowledge the mention of my ex-girlfriend, nor the joy Eliza exudes at the prospect of her finding out I’m in a relationship. “I’ll bring her to the ranch sometime.”
“Seriously?” Lux snorts while the rest of my sisters cheer. “She doesn’t look like a ranch girl.”
At midnight in a Walmart, she didn’t look like a ranch girl. Imagine that. “She left her cowboy boots at home that night.”
“I’m just saying, she doesn’t seem like your type.”
“Do elaborate.”
“She seems a little… abrasive.”
Here we go. “Abrasive?”
“I don’t know. Extroverted. Wild. Loud.”
Like any of those are bad things.
“You just described at least two Jackson women.” And, ironically, one of them is her. Was her. Before the weight of responsibility chipped away at those particular qualities. “How do you even know this?”
“Eliza found her on social media.”
Jesus Christ. “So you, what, scrolled through her Instagram and figured her out completely?”
“Jackson-”
“Speaking of partners, how’s Mark?”
That shuts her up, like I knew it would.
“Lux,” my sister sighs when I say her name, muttering something about a ‘bastard big brother tone,’ “I love you and I’m sorry for leaving the other night, but if you wanna talk about Luna, you better fix your tone.”
“Fix my tone? You sound like Grandma.”
Jesus, of all the fucking things she could’ve said. “And on that note, I gotta go.”
If there’s an apology, I don’t hear it; I hang up.
It’s been a long weekend, and I’m not in the mood.
Something cold and wet nudges my shoulder, and I look up to find Cass looming over me, holding out a beer. I take it from him with a grateful nod, shifting to make room for him as he flops down beside me on the sofa. “Your sisters not happy about Luna?”
I grunt as I take a sip. “I think Lux is just pissed I didn’t tell her.”
“Lying to your sister.” Cass whistles, long and low. “Rookie move.”
Yeah, you’d think I’d know better by now.
From somewhere in the kitchen, Ben yells, “Why is Grace asking me for pictures of your new girlfriend?”
“Why are you texting my sister?”
With enough pizza to feed a small army balanced on one hand, Ben joins the party, dropping the food on the coffee table and flopping on the sofa opposite us. “Because we’re friends.”
A terrifying thought.
Tonight was Ben’s idea. Pizza, beer, whatever game is on. He wrote it on the whiteboard on the back of our front door a couple of days ago, with the time and the word ‘obligatory’ underlined in red.
I don’t think everyone got the message.
“Has anyone seen Nick?”
A round of shaking heads.
Ben huffs as he snatches a piece of pizza. “He’s being weird, right? I’m not the only one who’s noticed?”
“Is he?” Cass frowns. “I think he’s just focusing on his fight.”
I resist the urge to laugh. Of course he hasn’t noticed; they haven’t been in the same room together since they got back from Thanksgiving and Nick suddenly developed a habit of making himself scarce whenever Cass appears.
Unless Cass happens to be talking about Amelia. Then Nick will linger, pretending to act uninterested. Only when he realizes I notice him lingering does he make a run for it.
I shake off the thought of my friend’s sudden sketchy behavior, distracting myself with pizza. It’s not quite as good as the deep-dish from the place Luna dragged me before my flight home, but it’ll do. Settling back in my seat, I turn my attention to the game.
My buzzing phone distracts me after only a couple of minutes.
“Let me guess,” Cass drawls sarcastically, “Luna?”
“Sisters,” I correct him with a grimace. Heckling combined with the unrelenting insistence that meeting my girlfriend is a matter of life or death. And Lux’s version of an apology; a text asking how many people she’s cooking Christmas dinner for. “They’re planning the wedding. Grace is set on the fall but apparently, Eliza thinks Luna is more of a summer bride.”
Cass snickers. “My bet’s on a shotgun wedding.”
“Hypocrite. I’d be more surprised if you didn’t have a secret child running around out there somewhere.“
“I did see a little girl at the grocery store the other day who bore a striking resemblance to you,” Ben chimes in, hiding his smirk behind his beer. “She had your eyes.”
“Hey, remember when you were homeless and I gave you a room? Remember that, quippy?”
“Shame I’ll have to move out soon to make room for the nursery.”
We make it halfway through the game before someone knocks on the front door.
“Maybe Nick forgot his keys,” Cass suggests , but I doubt it, and I’m right.
It’s not Nick I find standing on the driveway; it’s a disheveled, glasses-wearing blonde with a stuffed tote bag slung over one shoulder.
I waste no time stooping to kiss my girlfriend. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”
“Didn’t know I needed a formal invitation to see my boyfriend.”
It’s amazing how one word can have me smiling like a damn fool. Opening the door wider, I nod toward the living room. “We’re watching the game.”
“Football?”
I shoot Luna a dirty look. “Baseball.”
She rises on her tiptoes, kissing me again before strutting inside the house. “My favorite.”
“Blondie!” Ben squeals when he catches sight of her, holding his arms out toward her and making grabby hands like a toddler. She bounds towards him, and they hug as though they didn’t see each other just last night.
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Cass groans, his head flopping back dramatically. “Are you two joined at the hip or something?”
Luna flicks him on the forehead. “Jealous, Cassie?”
“Yes.” Cass deadpans. “I’ve always wanted my own stalker.”
“Enough,” I reprimand both of them, gripping Luna by the shoulders and steering her towards the stairs. “I’m separating you two.”
“Don’t you wanna watch the game?” Luna asks with an evil glint in her eye, clearly more interesting in sparring with Cass than watching any sport.
Cass tuts dramatically. “Ditching us for a girl?”
Tossing up a middle finger, Luna retorts, “Grow some boobs, Cassie. Then maybe he’ll love you more.”
Cass’ enraged huff follows us upstairs. I wait until my bedroom door closes behind me before letting a smug smile break out. “You’re throwing that word around an awful lot lately.”
“What?” Luna’s head snaps towards me, brow furrowed in confusion for a second before realization sets in; love. She groans. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Mmhmm.”
“Shut up.” She shoves me away, all stroppy as she chucks herself and her bag on my bed. A faint blush creeps up her cheeks as she folds her arms and scowls at the wall. “Stop smirking,” she orders without looking at me.
“How do you know I’m smirking?”
“I can feel it.”
I may or may not purposely crank the smirk up a notch.
“Please,” Luna begs, flopping on her back and covering her face with her hands. “You’re embarrassing me.”
My lips purse in a useless attempt to stop the shit-eating grin. Sitting beside her, I lean over and gently pry her hands from her face, revealing that pretty blush I’m really starting to adore.
She might not mean it like that, but I’m pretty sure that’s exactly how it is. It’s way too early, but I’m pretty fucking sure. I would challenge anyone to spend time with Luna and not fall in love with her in five seconds flat.
It’ll be a long time before she’s ready to hear that little bit of information, but it’s a good thing I’m patient.
For the sake of her flushed cheeks, I change the subject. “Did you come over for a reason other than aggravating my roommates?”
“I have an art project.” Sighing, Luna rolls onto her side, dragging that monstrosity of a tote bag with her. With a comical amount of effort, she wrestles out a thick file, flicking to a certain page before shoving it towards me. A familiar assignment stares back at me.
God, I hated visual journals. Every beginner art class I did freshman year had a version of one, and all of them had these ridiculous, cringe-inducing, and entirely uninspirational prompts. Looking at Luna’s list, it seems they haven’t changed much. My Greatest Joy, When I’m Alone, My Biggest Fear. One of them is circled a couple of times in bright pink highlighter. “How Others See Me?”
The blush that had just disappeared comes to life again. When Luna offers no explanation, I nudge her gently. “If you want my help, you’re gonna have to tell me what I’m helping with.”
Another sigh rattles her chest. “We have to do a weekly journal entry. And this week we have to pick from these topics and that,” she taps a matching pink nail against the highlighted topic, “is the only one I like. And it made me think of you.”
“Why?”
Luna drops her gaze, nose crinkling, voice quiet as she admits, “Because I like how you see me.”
Fuck, yeah.
I am definitely in love with this girl.
Instead of telling her that, I kiss her. Soft and slow and silently conveying all the things she is so not ready to hear. I don’t, however, manage to resist the urge to tease, “Do you love the way I see you?”
I see the thump coming a mile away, and I catch her fist before it hits my bicep. “I take it back.” She rips her hand from my grip, cradling it protectively against her chest. “I don’t want your help. I’ll just fail.”
“I’m done, I promise.” Wrestling her hand back, I kiss her knuckles. “But I think me drawing you kinda defeats the purpose.”
Luna shakes her head, shuffling around until she’s sitting cross-legged, her hands flexing and unflexing nervously where they rest on her knees. “No, I wanna draw you. Or, at least, try to draw you.”
“I don’t think that’s right either.”
“Shut up. It’s my journal.”
“And you really wanna draw me?”
“You draw me all the time.” Case in point; the pinboard above my desk currently littered with blue eyes and pouty lips and dimpled backs. “Figure it’s about time I get my own back.”
The concentration face is back, solely focused in my direction, and like I’ve proved so many times in the past, I’m not strong enough to resist anything she asks of me.
“Okay.” One simple word has Luna fucking glowing. “Where do you want me?”
