The Rule Breaker

I grab the suitcase and lead her down the stairs. To the door.

She stops in front of the kitchen. In front of her mother.

Her expression hardens. She does nothing to hide the sense of betrayal.

"I love you, Luna," Allison says. "I know you're upset. I know I deserve the anger. But I do love you."

Luna nods.

"If you need anything, please. Call. Please," Allison says.

Luna nods okay. She stares at the floor for a moment. Then she steps toward the door. As she pulls it open, she whispers, "I love you too."

She doesn't look back to see if her mom hears it.

But I do.

I watch relief, hurt, regret spill over Allison’s expression. Then I follow Luna to the car. Pack everything inside.

Drive her home.

Carry her stuff to the spare room.

She waits until I'm in the hallway to say, “Thank you, Oliver."

"Yeah. Sure." I run my hand through my hair. I don't know what to do with this kind of honest gratitude. "I meant what I said about dinner."

"You really need help?"

"Help? Fuck no. You're gonna make it for me."

She half-smiles. "I guess it's only fair." She pushes herself to her feet. Wipes her hands on her jeans. "But I am going to make what I like."

"I know."

"Unless you want to help. That's the only way you get a say."

I nod I know. And even though I know I should stay away—my body is already begging me to hold her—I follow her to the kitchen. Stay way, way too close.

Luna insists on more pasta. Arrabiata this time. With shrimp.

She asks me to prep the shrimp in a quiet voice. One that isn't at all her.

But her sadness fades the more she concentrates. She chops garlic and tomatoes, boils water, seasons sauce.

By the time we're sitting at the table, topping our arugula with Parmesan, she's at ninety percent. Not all the way to her usual badass, bossy self, but close.

Dad texts that he'll be home late. Then some shit about how I should keep an eye on Luna. And by eye he means keep the pants zipped.

For once, I think of the hurt on Luna's mom's face, and I let it go. He's trying. I'm not getting pissed about it today.

He's right.

Luna needs a friend.

And, fuck it, I do too. If I can actually help her—

That's something.

It's the best I can do right now.

Chapter Eleven

Luna

Allison's face stays in my head as I study for my chem test. All the hurt and regret and frustration.

No I'm sorry or I know I was wrong or even I promise I've apologized to my soon-to-be ex-wife for betraying her.

Only worry.

About my well-being? Or losing my respect?

Maybe I'm being uncharitable. It's not just respect with her. I know she loves me. Normally, I know my parents love me the way I know I need swimming.

My favorite dark roast.

The exact shade of eggplant shimmer of my Urban Decay Rockstar eye pencil.

Right now…

I finish the chapter. Check my cell.

A group text about our study group. Sure, I can do Sunday evenings.

An I'm fine, sweetheart, I'm more worried about you from Divya.

And Daisy, checking in, trying to pretend like she's not checking in.

Has Oliver told her anything?

Is there anything for him to tell her?

Daisy: Are you really staying in the spare room? My room has better air flow.

Luna: And everything is pastel pink.

Daisy: You bought me that comforter.

True. And it's perfect for her. She's sweet, innocent, adorable.

Whereas I…

Usually, that's something I know the way I know my purple eyeliner.

I'm Luna Locke, chemistry student, two hundred breaststroke swimmer, lover of dark chocolate.

Fashionista, punk rock pixie, take no shit badass.

All of that is true. Technically.

But I know it the way I know my parents love me.

It's fuzzy, ill-formed, impossible to describe.

Hard to believe.

Daisy: Would you prefer black? I'm sure Oliver has extras.

Mmm. Oliver's sheets. Do they smell like him?

Are they stained with his—

That should disgust me, but it doesn't.

I barely laugh at the joke. Of course, Oliver has black sheets. Of course, Daisy is teasing me about wanting black sheets.

I wear black all the time (even though it's not really my color).

It's not that I want his sheets.

Or him.

She doesn't know that.

She can't know that.

Luna: How about silver?

Daisy: Am I going to come home to find you dressed in all silver?

Luna: Down to the bra and panties.

Daisy: Why can I see your bra and panties?

Luna: Hmm. Good point.

Daisy: Are you testing your sexting material on me?

Luna: I would never.

Daisy: Uh-huh.

Luna: Scout's honor.

Daisy: Are you set on the spare room?

Luna: If I stay in your room, you'll have this obstacle between you and visiting home.

Daisy: Or I'll have an excuse to stay at Holden's.

Luna: Gross.

Daisy: You're the one who told me to fuck him.

Luna: No. Fuck him. Fuck him sideways. Then come here so we can stay up late watching Dawson's Creek.

Daisy: With chocolate?

Luna: I'll buy the seventy percent you like.