Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Tom pinches the guitar pick, hugging the instrument to his chest. “You sure you want to know this? You could just wait and see if your memories come back—”
“They might never.”
Eliot slides his fingers through his wavy brown hair a few times. “We’ve taken Ecstasy and cocaine. That’s all we’ve done together.”
I’d rather guide her away from anything I wouldn’t do. The list is short, but some drugs will always make me uneasy and those two are definitely on it.
She asks, “Was there anything I took without you two?”
“No. Not that you told us,” Eliot says.
At this, Luna lifts her eyes to me, and a pit tries to burrow in my ribs. I slowly shake my head, just once. I have more to say, but the words are tar in my throat. Can’t get ‘em out fast enough. I’m resisting sharing anything too deep in front of her friends.
Luna thinks out loud, “Charlie might know.”
Eliot straightens. “Why would our brother know?”
“Um, my diary.” She takes about fifteen minutes to explain the Unearthly Reader and her new memory guardian. Eliot and Tom are supportive, genuinely good-hearted friends, and they’re both smiling by the end. They see how this’ll help Luna.
Plus, Eliot adds, “You know what this means? You now have the power to pester Charlie at all hours. I would abuse the fuck out of it.”
Tom wraps his arm around his brother. “Which is why he’d never give it to you.”
Luna smiles. “I’d call him now, but he likely hasn’t read it all yet. I’ll text him tomorrow.”
They leave it at that, and I ask Tom about whether he likes listening to the same emo-punk music he plays. I learn he listens to a wider variety of rock, and we go down a music rabbit hole. My favorite kind. From grunge to indie rock to jazz to bluesy love songs, we drink and let the songs pour through the room.
I imagine scooping Luna up and setting her on my lap—my hands sliding up the back of her neck and into her glittery hair.
Must be a shared fantasy because as our eyes crash together, I see the same desires pool in her amber orbs.
I cup her cheek, and I kiss her slowly, tasting her against my lips, my pulse thumping with a soothing calmness. The whiskey buzz has nothing on kissing this girl. Feeling her soft lips, feeling her needy hands gripping my waist, feeling her body trying to draw closer to mine—it’s heady. I skate my fingers into her hair and deepen the kiss.
Luna scoots nearer, and before I even touch her thigh, she moans.
Fuck.
22
PAUL DONNELLY
Her tiny frame goes rigid, her cheeks roasting against my palm, and I’m less embarrassed ‘cause I just don’t care who the fuck sees us and they’re not my cousins. Truth be told, I could fuck in front of an audience. I have before, but it doesn’t turn me on any extra. I’m just not bothered by voyeurs.
This isn’t that though.
And Luna—what I’ve been through with her—it’s changed some things in me. If I picture fucking her in front of other guys, like O’Malley, I want to slam the door in his face. He’s not getting off on her.
No one is.
While Luna avoids her cousins, I take a glance.
Tom is oblivious, strumming on his guitar as he tries to match the chords of the song. Eliot was in a music daze, staring at the ceiling—and I’d bet he’s pretending to still be in one, for Luna’s sake.
“Maybe we should call it a night?” Luna whispers to me.
Yeah. This isn’t gonna end well if we’re up here together any longer, and I’m doing my best to kill a hard-on. Thinking about Orion drooling and the Birds losing in the fourth quarter and redheads.
I kiss her cheek. “See ya in the morning, space babe.”
She reluctantly lets go of my waist. “May your dreams be of the wonderous kind, Donnelly.”
“Yours too, Hale.” I hold her gaze for another beat. Then I scale down the bunk without using the ladder. I pat Orion, glad she has this big, beautiful lug here. Even if I wish I could be the one pressed up against her.
After we say our goodnights to Eliot and Tom, we all hit the hay. I’m lying on the narrow bottom bunk beneath Luna, and Eliot switches off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
I can’t see the rafters above my head.
I stare into the nothingness. Pitch-black. I wait for my eyes to adjust. They never do, so I shut them and hear the soft grunting breaths of the Newfie.
Time ticks.
Each creak of the bunk snaps my eyes open. My pulse spikes. I hear her flipping over on the mattress several times. I hear sounds of the Cobalt boys shifting and the hum of the heat flooding the room.