About how I’d invited Poppy to our treehouse to settle the score with Luna.
“Maybe she saw you.” Mom pursed her lips.
I frowned at the wall in front of me, painted black with the Raiders’ logo on it. “Fat chance.”
“Why’s that?” Mom persisted.
“Because Luna would have flipped.”
She’d almost killed me with her glare when I’d fondled Arabella, who was about as relevant to my life as a thoroughly used condom.
“Would she? Does that sound like Luna? Flipping out on you? Especially seeing as you did nothing wrong technically, simply spent time with your girlfriend?”
Inside my girlfriend. Or that’s what it had looked like, anyway.
Mom had a point. Maybe Luna had seen. Maybe that was the deal breaker. I’d said I wouldn’t rest until we were even, but now, when she thought we were, it didn’t feel too good.
No. It didn’t feel too fucking good at all.
“Do you love her?” Mom asked seriously.
“No,” I shot out.
Yes.
Why was it so hard? Because it was pathetic? Because it was unrequited? Because I wasn’t even sure who Luna was anymore? Talking and fucking and living without me, across the country, while I was losing my mother to cystic fibrosis.
“Well, then.” Rosie threw her hands in the air on a breezy smile. “No harm done, then. We don’t need to talk about it anymore, do we?”
She was about to stand up. I straightened from her lap, sitting.
“Wait.”
“Hmm?” Her lips pursed in a victorious smile.
“I do. I love her.” I paused. “I love her, but I’m not sure I know her anymore.”
“You love her, but maybe despite growing up together, you also grew apart?”
I shook my head. No. That wasn’t it. “I can’t outgrow Luna. It’s like outgrowing your heart. Impossible. It grows with you. What do I do?” I ran my hand across my close-shaved jaw. “What the fuck do I do, Mom?”
“Well, that’s an easy one.” She smiled. “You go after her. You grovel. You win your girl back. Life’s too short not to be with the person you love.”
Going to Boon in the middle of the school year, with my mother sick, was insane. I knew that. But leaving things unfinished with Luna was, somehow, even crazier. How many hits could our friendship take before exploding like a piñata?
I was done hitting the piñata. I didn’t want the candy inside it. I just wanted the fucking piñata. Was that too much to ask?
“I can’t leave you.” I took Mom’s hand.
I was playing a dangerous game, cajoling her into giving me permission to do it. Truth was, I was demented enough to up and leave, taking my chances. I tried to reason with myself. Mom had just gotten discharged from the hospital. She could handle being without me for a long weekend. Or for a day. Jesus. It might just be one day. Maybe Luna didn’t want to patch shit up. Maybe she had finally given up on my sorry ass.
“You must.” Mom squeezed my hand.
“Why?”
I humored her. Rosie Leblanc wasn’t big on having me away from school. As it was, I wasn’t the most accurate dick in the urinal. I wasn’t a bad student per se, but I’d be lying if I said Ivy League colleges were lining up at my doorstep.
“Do you want me to be honest?” She scrunched her nose.
“No. Please lie through your teeth.” Another eye roll nearly commenced.
Mom looked down, flattening her palm over my linen and brushing it absentmindedly.
Bad idea. This shit is ninety-nine percent spunk, one percent fabric.
“I need you to do this for my peace of mind.” Her gaze cut to mine, her blue eyes shining with emotion. “From a selfish point of view, I want you to win Luna back, because knowing you two are together would make me so happy.”
I tried to swallow, but couldn’t. I wanted to tell her to stop talking nonsense, but I couldn’t do that, either. Finally, I got up, tucked my chin, and regarded her with the same cool, lazy expression I’d learned from my father. From his friends.
Nothing gets in. Nothing comes out. If bottling feelings was a sport, I’d be representing my country in the Olympics.
She stood up and took my face in her hands, pressing her nose to my pecs. I froze before wrapping tentative arms around her. I kissed the crown of her head.
“Can I tell you a secret?” she whispered into my shirt, sending warm breath to my chest through the fabric.