the popular senior girls Knight went to school with, Poppy Astalis. He’d never mentioned her throughout our friendship, but of course, my weekly searches included her. She was an English rose, sans the thorns—all sweet, delicate, and trimmed where appropriate. Her father was one of the most well-known sculptors in the world, and after her mother had passed away, he’d agreed to take on a consulting job, assisting in opening Todos Santos School of Art, uprooting Poppy and her younger sister, Lenora, from their London residence.
Poppy was pretty, but she wasn’t made from the same velvet, tainted cloth of the rich Todos Santos girls. She’d always been nice to me during the two years we’d spent at All Saints High together, and she was a straight-A student. She played the accordion, skipped most parties, but attended the important ones, and from what I’d heard, she was always the one to drive drunk girls home before they did something stupid.
“Maybe this will inspire you to give up on the dickhead.” April clicked on the newest picture in Poppy’s Instagram, and my throat closed in on my heart.
It was a perfect Pinterest picture: pint-sized Poppy standing on top of Knight’s helmet in an empty field, her arms wrapped around his neck, both of them lost in a deep, passionate kiss. He was still wearing his football gear, dirty and sweaty and so alive he nearly burst out of the screen. Gorgeous. Victorious. Like a god who’d descended from the sky. Friday night lights shone on the beautiful couple, highlighting his glistening, disheveled brown hair. Against the backdrop of the black night and empty bleachers, they looked nothing short of high school royalty.
The caption read:
We Won! #StillLikeRealFootballBetter #NoItsNotCalledSoccer #KnightColeForPresident #MineMineMine
The pen I’d been chewing slipped between my fingers, and I bent down to pick it up, hitting my head on the edge of my desk. I lost my footing. I didn’t even feel the fresh wound on my forehead. I patted it, confused, feeling warm, thick liquid between my curls.
“Jesus, Luna! You’re bleeding! We need to go to the nurse.”
The nurse glued my head, which, of course, was super fun. Then she gave me a painkiller and asked me to promise her to be less clumsy next time. I nodded—what else could I do?—thinking deep down it was ridiculous to ask me to be less clumsy. No one chose to be clumsy. It was hardly a trait one tried to excel at.
But sure, I would try to be less clumsy.
Less quiet.
Less of a screw up.
More normal.
Less dead on the inside. Because that’s what it felt like—seeing Knight moving on with another girl.
I needed a drink. And I needed it bad.
Knight had a girlfriend. Of course he had one. Of course. Or he wouldn’t publicly kiss her. Everyone knew the infamous HotHoles weren’t about public displays of affection. Yeah, they were just like their dads had been—hot assholes. Hence the name.
Knight, Vaughn, and Hunter completely disregarded the fairer sex as a concept. Publicly, anyway. Knight didn’t have just any girlfriend, either. Poppy was love material. Beautiful, kind, and sweet. She was probably the reason he’d stopped texting me. God, what a fool I was—telling him I missed him, coaxing him to answer me.
As soon as April and I got back to our room from the nurse, I took out my phone and texted Josh.
Luna: I need a drink.
The message was seen before I could put my phone down.
Josh: Is that your way of accepting my party invitation?
Luna: Yup.
Josh: I have a better idea. Meet me at the stables.
Luna: …
Josh: !!!
Luna: We’re not supposed to be there after hours.
Josh: Didn’t you tell me you want to use teenage as a verb?
Luna: Yes. My stepmom tells me to do that all the time.
Josh: Well, she’s right. Trust me?
Funnily enough, I did. I did trust him. Was it insane that I put my faith in this stranger? Was I going to get burned?
Luna: I’ll be a little bit, but I’ll get there.
I dragged myself to the communal showers. My gut twisted and clenched as the hot stream hit my body, and the Instagram image of Knight kissing Poppy played in my head, on a loop.
I threw up straight into the drain, the sound of the water drowning the retching.
The barn was located behind the main college buildings, on a rolling green hill, surrounded by a low wooden fence, overlooking a water tower. The stable looked almost like an ordinary house, red-roofed and swan white. It nearly glowed