Broken Knight (All Saints High 2)

I didn’t want to be right.

I wanted to be mad.

Mad that Luna, the only girl I’d ever loved, had friend-zoned my ass, not because she had some mega-internal problem with getting it on with a dude, but because I’d gotten it all wrong and she didn’t even like me that way.

Surprisingly, she still went at it on my window.

I wasn’t completely in charge of my actions, or my thoughts, or my emotions, hence I did the dumbest thing in the world. I asked a question I wasn’t prepared to hear the answer to.

“Tell you what—you want to be indulged? For one fucking time, we’ll do it my way. If you didn’t sleep with anyone else, knock twice, and I’ll turn around and let you in. If you did sleep with Josh, knock three times, and do the honorable thing and let me have my fucking moment in private. Because I deserve it, Luna. I goddamn earned it.”

My back was still to my window when Moonshine knocked the first time. My heart, all embers, flared in flames. I fisted the strap of my gym bag and squeezed. Then came the second knock. I took a breath and looked down, noticing that my clenched fist was trembling.

Don’t knock again. Don’t knock again. Don’t, Luna. Don’t.

The third knock had desperation in it. An apology. A silent prayer.

I dropped the gym bag, squeezing my eyes shut.

She slapped my window a few more times, and I heard a rare yelp. She was a frantic animal, begging for help. I heard another slap, then another, then another as she tried to break the glass. I picked up the bag, walked over to my door, and closed it behind me.

For the first time in almost eighteen years, I knew Luna and I faced something I couldn’t fix. Something I didn’t want to fix.

I was fucking done.

I examined my bloodshot eyes in the mirror of my bathroom, applying another layer of scarlet-hued gloss on my lips.

Guess that’s what three days without sleep would do to you: red-rimmed eyes and a lip color to match. But I couldn’t get through to Knight, no matter how hard I tried. I’d waited for him outside his door every morning. He’d breezed past me, usually with his phone glued to his ear, ignoring my existence all the way to his Aston Martin. I’d nearly fallen, trying to climb up to his window again, only to find it secured and locked. I’d waited for him in his gym’s reception area, pretending to be reading a brochure about hot yoga classes, only to have security personnel sent to tell me that a gentleman had requested I leave the premises so he could walk back to his car.

Knight treated me like a common stalker. And, if I were being honest with myself, I wasn’t exactly not one. I just needed him to hear me out.

Now, we were about to go to the Spencers’ for our annual Thanksgiving dinner, and we were going to share a table, and a meal, and a space, whether he liked it or not. I was going to sit across from, or next to him, and I didn’t know if I was elated to finally get to see his face, or terrified of seeing what was on it.

I tapped the rich, crème ceramic of the sink, shifting from foot to foot on the checked black and white marble of our heated floors, ignoring the messages popping on my phone, which was propped on the edge of the counter.

Josh: Everything okay?

Josh: You’re probably busy. Just tell me you’re good when you have time? ?

“Baby, we don’t want to be late. Are you finishing up?” Dad called from downstairs.

Racer simultaneously knocked on the bathroom door, shouting, “Luna, Luna, Lunatic! Come on!”

“Don’t call your sister that, you little rascal,” Edie chided from downstairs.

She was so PC about my selective muteness, even though sometimes, when we were all alone, I’d actually answer her words. Mainly yes and no. I didn’t know why I felt so comfortable around Edie. A part of me thought she loved me extra hard, because she knew my own mother didn’t.

I tried wiping the redness from my eyes to no avail and opened the door, grabbing my baby brother by the collar and jerking him into a hug. I wore a lavender wrap dress with ruffled edges I’d borrowed from Edie. I hated dresses. There was nothing I liked more than blending in with the furniture and making myself invisible. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and I’d stooped so low as to wear a revealing, tight dress that might make Knight look at me with something that wasn’t sheer hatred and revulsion.

Fine. I was a sellout.

A sellout who needed a way to reach her best friend.

“Wow, Lunatic. You’re really pretty.” Racer squeezed my waist, looking up to scrutinize my face with his big, cobalt eyes.