I’m jealous that this douchebag gets to be with the girl I wish I could be with. I’m jealous of their future time together, a future kiss that I’ll never have with her, a future at fucking all—when all I got is present, fleeting moments that slip through my fingers.
Donnelly tries to side-step and she bounces in front of him. Still in X formation.
He goes to the left. She bounces to the left.
Donnelly comes to a halt in front of Luna.
They’re both staring at one another for a long beat.
“Hale,” he says.
“Donnelly,” she replies.”
“And Luna?” Donnelly asks before even Quinn.
I stare into him. Why is he asking about Luna? I have a weird feeling, knowing Luna is sheltering some kind of secret that we shouldn’t know. And he was the most vocal about the “tentacle porn” leak.
Please tell me they didn’t fuck.
Ripped jeans, an old Van Halen shirt, chestnut brown hair and tattoos—Paul fucking Donnelly is here. He opens doors, not even giving courtesy knocks like me.“You see Luna Hale?”
“Luna Hale is here?”
He shuts the door.
Opens another, does the same.
We release and I look to Donnelly “Don’t you dare hurt her.”
“I’d rather die.” Seriousness coats his voice. This is also the same person who has Cobalts Never Die
tattooed on his kneecap and is incredibly close to Beckett—my most honest brother.I think there’s a reason for that.
She glances to Donnelly. “I don’t think frat parties are my thing.”
“Nah?” He assesses Luna, up-and-down, then nods to her. “They’re not mine either.” He pauses. “You okay?”
She shrugs.
“We’re getting out of here,” Donnelly says. “That alright?”
She nods vigorously.
Luna watches the tattoo machine, lost in thought. “He’s not all bad. He gives okay head.”
I pop another bubble. “Okay head sounds like bad head.”
Donnelly wipes my skin clean. “If you’re just lookin’ to be eaten out, I’ll eat you out—”
“Comms crackle, the signal distant. “Donnelly to SFO, I found the space babe.”
Relief strikes, then confusion. How the hell did he find Luna Hale? Look—a part of me suspects that Donnelly eating Luna out wasn’t a one-time thing like they told Jane”.
“If she asked you to push her off a cliff, what would you do?”
“I’d say let’s grab some parachutes first, babe.” He smirks. “Then I’d clasp her hand and we’d go down…” He jumps forward and then slings an arm around Oscar.
“Nah, man.” Donnelly slips the condom back in his pocket. “These are for you three then.” He looks between Oscar, Thatcher, and Luna. “In case you need them. I’ve got my guys and girl.” His eyes flit to Luna for a second longer.
She smiles.
“Maximoff opens the door, and glaring fluorescent light pierces my eyes. A harsh spotlight shines down on a foldout table. Where Luna lies sideways in only a white tee and green thong. She’s careful not to move.
Donnelly glances up at me, a tattoo gun in his black-gloved hand.”
“And it was legitimately awkward. You know what, he stared at me for a full-second like I spoke fucking Thebulan from Luna’s tentacle smut.”
Donnelly hops up on the balcony railing. “That’s my favorite smut.”
“Mmah…Lun…Luna…”
Jack and I exchange a confused look. Why is my best friend muttering Luna Hale’s name in his sleepwalking haze?
(…)
“…Lun…yeah…lemme help you, babe.” He’s about to run into the pull-out couch. He bumps me, then turns back towards the hall. “…best pussy…”
Luna pockets the note about Donnelly, and the tattooed, chestnut-haired bodyguard keeps his thumb up for Luna. Close to each other, he uses his thumb to pick an eyelash off her cheek.
“Make a wish.”
“You make it. I’m not as lucky.”
“What’s up?”
“I asked Donnelly if he wanted to go to Wawa with me, and he kinda blew me off.”
He blew her off? That fucking dick. I try to drop my voice to a whisper. “What’d he say?”
“It was over text. He left me on read, and then today, he messaged: Sorry. Couldn’t go.”
“She’s back,” Donnelly says off the appearance of Luna Hale. Only he’s referring to the green marker on her cheeks, the blue-painted eyebrows and graphic tee. She makes a Spock symbol at the camera, and she looks genuinely lighter, happier.