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Luna stares at me for a full minute before shrugging and getting up. “What do you feel like eating while we binge? Pizza or,” she moves a couple things around in the freezer, “buffalo chicken nuggets?”
“Why the hell are you making me choose?”
“Both it is,” she replies, digging both from the frozen pile of food we have stashed. “I also picked up some snacks on my way home.”
“Great. Let me slip into something stretchy and I’ll be right out.” Pushing everything to the side of the counter so my supplies wouldn’t be in the way of our junk food prep, I grabbed my canvas bag and headed to my room. Quickly stripping off my clothes, I dug in my laundry bin – which is filled with all the clean clothes I washed days earlier – and searched for a pair of sleep shorts. Finding them, I throw them on with a built-in bra tank top and a large sweatshirt overtop. I am officially ready to be a couch potato for the foreseeable future.
A quiet buzzing comes from my bag just as I’m about to leave the room. I stare at my bag, debating whether I should go back and dig for my phone. I have a pretty good idea whose texting me, and it fills me with excitement and trepidation. Taking slow steps, I shift my bag until I can see my phone and it’s tempting blinking light. If I didn’t look now, would I be able to concentrate the rest of the night? Who am I kidding? Of course I wouldn’t. And my fidgeting would alert Luna that something was bothering me. Curiosity will kill me one of these days.
Grabbing my phone, the screen lights up, showing me I did have a message. A promo message from the chain pizza shop down the street. The bastards. I snort at my stupidity. Why did I think Grant would message me? Yes, I did give him my number but he’s probably working out, or foam rolling or doing a million other things while not thinking of me. That’s cool. I’m fine with it. Not like I’m thinking of him.
God, I’m a horrible liar. Even to myself.
Swiping the message away, I drop my hand to my side, about to make my way – once again – out to the main area. I’m right at the threshold of the door when my phone vibrates again. Wow, I really needed to delete some food apps from my phone. This was getting….
My thought trails off when I see Grant’s name glowing from the screen. For a couple seconds I stare at the bright screen, not truly comprehending what is right in front of me. The screen dims with my inaction, prompting me to swipe and read the message. A surge of warmth spreads through my chest at his simple message.
GRANT: Have fun with your sister tonight. I’m here if you need someone.
He had to be an alien from another planet. There was no way he was this thoughtful, this sweet naturally. He was a damn donut in the shape of a man – the whole sweet package. The strange part was not even for a moment did I think his concern was a guise or a front for something. In the past, when a guy showed interest, I never believed they really wanted me. Sure, they wanted to sleep with me or spend some time with an energetic goof, but I never felt that they really wanted to get to know me. To fight through all the hesitations and walls that I’d built up over the years in order to protect myself – and in turn, Luna. There was always a superficial reason for them to spend time with me. And with thoughts like that going into a relationship they didn’t last long.
Grant is different. Plain and simple. Somehow that muscled sweetheart has snuck past my guarded walls and infiltrated the castle. The castle being my brain. I have no idea how but he is constantly on my mind, since the night we met. Maybe it’s the way he looks at me. Or the way he stepped in to help me before I even knew I really needed help. Either way, I’m crushing on this man. Hard. And that has disaster written all over it.
Not wanting to leave him hanging, I send him a message back.
LEXI: Thanks! Have a good night too!
I stare at the message for a couple seconds, debating if that’s enough. Was that too many exclamation points? Should I add an emoji to show how chill I am…or how in to him I was? Would a kiss-face emoj scare him off? Mother of Pop-Tarts I’m overthinking this. Grant didn’t need emojis.
I press send. Then, in an act of pure dramatics, I throw my phone across the room onto my bed, so I won’t obsessively look at it and hurry out. I need to focus on Luna tonight. Soak in the little sister time I have left before she heads out on her summer adventure.
“T-minus ten minutes to the food being ready.”
“Oh my God, that’s like forever away,” I moan, dropping down on to the sofa and causing Luna to bounce up.
“Oh you poor soul. It’s a good thing I brought a tube of Pringles.” She digs the long tube out from beside her and passes it over.
“You, dear sister, are the greatest person on Earth.”
“I know right.” I have just taken a bite out of a large stack of the salt-and-vinegar delights when Luna asks me a question that has me choking. “So, there must be a good reason you’re not telling your world-class sister about what happened with Grant today.”
“Wh-what?” The words barely gurgle out as I cough, trying to dislodge the crumbs stuck in my throat.
“Belinda texted me. You really thought you could keep this from me?” Luna’s voice doesn’t hold any malice, but I can tell she’s put out by the thought of me keeping something from her. We are best buds and tell each other everything. Well, almost everything. My stomach churns at my deceit.
“It’s not that I was trying to keep it from you,” I start, voice shaky. “I just didn’t want to ruin our last girls’ night with confusing boy talk. We can talk about creative ways to kill Belinda though,” I try to joke.
“You obviously scare her to death with creepy elf dolls, duh,” Luna says without missing a beat. I rear back, intrigued by this method of murder. I have so many follow-up questions. “But stop trying to distract me. I want to hear more about Grant. Did he eat a donut? Did he ask for your number again? Do we need to think of ways to kill him too?”
I have raised this girl right. She is loyal beyond belief. My shoulders are shaking at her antics as she lists off all her questions. “No. Maybe. Yes and no.”
“He maybe kissed you? That’s a total yes, you big hussy! Ahhh!” She hits me with a pillow and begins invading my personal space. Crawling almost on my lap as she leans into me. “Tell. Me. Everything!”
“Jesus Luna. I knew I should have sold you to the circus, you damn spider-monkey. Get off me.” I laugh-cry at her. She doesn’t stop, making the sofa bounce with every move she makes.
I’m literally saved by the bell. Or the buzzer.
The oven timer goes off. Our pizza and nuggets are ready.
