“Maybe not, but at least you tried. If you keep trying, you’ll get it in the end, but it’s completely up to you.”
“I think I’d rather just watch you. it’s more fun.” She chews on the inside of her cheek, and I brush aside a stray piece of hair that keeps falling across her eye.
“We should probably get ready to head to my parents' place. They love Christmas.” I give her a sardonic smile and she smiles back before we head inside to change.
I doubt we’ll have any more naked run-ins, but I still leave a towel outside the bathroom door for her, just in case she forgets where they are.
I throw on a pair of shorts and sit on the edge of my bed as I debate whether to shove a tank on again. A light rap sounds on the door, and Luna pokes her head through. Her eyes fall to my chest, before they descend lower, and, I swear to God, I’d think she has a thing for me or something by the way she’s acting. But she can’t have one, can she?
“Do you have the hots for me or something?” I blurt it out, and she staggers back as though I hit her.
“Don’t worry, I remember how abhorrent you find me.” She scowls before she storms off. The words I uttered that morning when we woke up in bed together, come swarming back into my mind.
I guess adding that to the fact I never kissed her back the other night, it would make sense as to why she ran away.
I quickly don a shirt, I think adding a slightly smarter element to the get up will go down well with my mom before I walk into her room without an invitation. She’s standing in front of a mirror, in nothing but her bra and panties. She shrieks as she spots me, and rushes to cover herself up.
She breathes heavily as she stares at me. I don’t step any closer, I just stare at her from the doorway.
“I don’t find you abhorrent. I was just pissed off. Now, get dressed so we can leave” I walk away with purpose, but in all honesty, I haven’t got a clue what I’m doing or even thinking anymore.
We step inside and it’s like Santa’s fucking grotto in here. Trust dad to go overboard, no way is this mom. She’d be happy with a tree and that’s it.
“Hello, sweeties. Come on in, we have cheese and crackers on the table, and the food is cooking. Come sit down, and relax.” Mom moves us into the living room and we relax on the sofa. Well, I do. Luna couldn’t look more uncomfortable if she tried.
“Are you going to give it to them?” My eyes drop to the container clutched to her chest, as she gawks at me. Like a frightened little bird.
“I-I will,” she stutters. I swear, she clutches it even tighter.
“Luna, Thal. Are you excited for Christmas tomorrow?” Dad asks, as he walks in, and rubs his hands together.
“Marcus, don’t be so insensitive. She’s probably wishing she was spending it with her own family.” My mom swats him on the arm, but he captures her hand and kisses the back of her hand. If I roll my eyes any harder, they might never come back down.
“It’s okay, I’ll s-see them again s-soon.”
“Of course you will, and with your very own bakery. That must be exciting, starting up your own business.” Mom sits down in front of her, and I love that she’s trying to steer the conversation to something that will make her feel more at ease.
“It is, it’s scary though. I just don’t want to let my fear rule me anymore, I’d rather face it head on.” She tucks her hair behind her ear.
She does that a lot when she sees one of the guys. I’m not sure what that tells me yet, nerves or something else?
“I’m sure you’ll do fine. Although, I haven’t tasted your baking so ignore me.” Her laughter is musical, like it always is. Another Academy girl who found love. Only this one was required and led to me. Poor fuckers.
“Speaking of that, Luna has a present for you.” I smile wide as she stares at me like a deer caught in a set of headlights.
“It’s nothing, really.” She passes the container over while I chuckle under my breath.
My mom’s face lights up brighter than her Goddamn Christmas tree, as she places them under it. She won’t even peek, although the same can’t be said for my dad.
“Why don’t you two go into the kitchen and get some eggnog? Your father insisted we get some.”
We stand up and their laughter has me on edge. They’re plotting, and that always spells trouble. They did the same thing with me and Allie, and look how that turned out.
We pass through the arch as my mom shouts out, “stop.” We both freeze, in case something bad has happened and she needs my help. Although, the continued laughter pretty much dashes that theory to shit.
“You’re standing under the mistletoe, you know the rules,” dad winks and I glare at him.
“So fucking juvenile, the pair of you,” I growl out, as Luna stares between them and me.
“Come on, son, be a good sport. We’ve had plenty of kisses under that already. Give the pretty lady a kiss.” I gag, at the image of them kissing in my mind, but feel bad as Luna disappears into herself. She probably thinks it’s to do with having to kiss her.
I place my hands on her shoulders, trying hard to drown out their wolf whistles, and kiss her softly on the mouth. I pull back to her wide eyed stare, and her soft lips parted, before I head off to the kitchen.
“It’s okay, sweetie. He can get you a cup. You stay here with us.”
Go figure, and so the plotting begins. My mom I expect, but not my dad. He knows this can only end in disaster and if I want to be truly morbid, then death.
34
Two Return
Luna
The rest of the night with his parents was amazing, I’m sad to say goodbye. It brought tears to my eyes when Lara told me not to be a stranger, as if I have any say on the matter.
Thallon never did fall victim to the mistletoe again. It shocked me how gentle his kiss was, but he probably just wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible.
We're leaving first thing in the morning, but I’ve already got my things packed and ready to go. I never really unpacked, I thought it would be easier to just live out of the suitcase.
“Come on, Koala. Let’s shove a film on or something,” he calls from the living room.
I join him on the couch, and there isn’t a lot of distance between us, but it may as well be an entire continent.
That should make me happy, it doesn't. At the very least, it should make me feel relaxed, but I’m not.
He presses play on some action film he’s chosen, as I think back to my guys. I really need to stop calling them that, not that I will. It’s ingrained in me, not that it should be. I only ever say it in my head.
The film continues to play, but I have no idea what is happening. I’ll never be able to describe it to anyone, I can’t even say whether or not the first five minutes were action packed, or dragged as slow as a tortoise.
“I’m sorry about the mistletoe.”
“It wasn’t your fault, that has my parents all over it. They love to stir the pot.” He glances over at me, and my toes curl. It’s a strange reaction, brought on from a harmless look. There’s no heat in it, it’s as empty as a starless night sky.