Page 79 of Lunar Diamonds
I carried on crying, covering my face, wishing for the floor to swallow me up. What the hell did I look like? I tried getting myself together, but that only made me weep harder.
I can’t be strong.
I can’t be together.
“What’s wrong?” Drake said.
I sensed him inching closer, heard his bare feet on the floor. I was too mortified to look, but I knew he crouched beside me, dangerously close.
His scent tickled my nostrils, a thick bouquet of mint breaking through my sorrow.
I sniffled, keeping my face covered. “Sorry.”
“Did my ass upset you?”
I giggled, the sorrow lifting a little more. “No…” He sounded like the other Drake—the winking guy with the killer smile.
“Good. Want to talk?”
I sniffled again. “I should be mad at you.”
“Then be mad at me.”
My hands remained glued to my face. “What’s the point? It doesn’t change a thing. We’re bonded, I’m The Moon, and a hot mess. Damn.”
“You’re not a mess.”
I wanted to ask if that meant I was hot, but that would only embarrass me more. “Thanks.”
“I am sorry, Riley. Desperation got the better of me.”
My fingers twitched. “I need to get off this floor.”
“You can look at me,” he said so softly my toes tingled. “Don’t worry, I’m wearing a towel.”
What a shame.
I dropped my hands, meeting those twin pools of darkness and a sympathetic expression. His eyelashes really were a work of art, along with his wet hair, jawline, and muscles. A swimmer’s build, I think they called it.
He crouched before me, a white towel the only barrier between us.
“You can hate me all you need to,” he said. “Forever, if you like.”
Tempting, but what was the point of hate? I’d already poisoned myself with self-hate, forever scaring my spirits with my eating disorder. Why let more hate in? It wouldn’t do me any good.
I spoke from the context of my well-being, of course. Everyone else was free to feel however they wanted. But I’d seen the power of hating someone else, how it twisted my mum. Despite moving on with my stepdad, she held onto her rage over my dad’s betrayal. I couldn’t blame her. Who was I to say anything? Maybe if something like that happened to me, I’d flip the hate switch.
Sometimes I really needed to shut the hell up and drop my peace-and-love sensibilities. They enraged Mum whenever she was in one of her moods, putting me on the receiving end of her vicious tongue many times. She told me I had a misguided view of things, especially after what I’d been through. A little too positive for my own good, apparently. Where was the jaded attitude, the rage?
“Stop living in the fucking clouds!”she’d often cried.
Not fair. Yeah, I liked it on the sunnier side of the tracks, but that didn’t mean I was averse to the ignorant of reality. At least, I hoped so. And what was so wrong with being in the clouds? I liked it up there, dreaming of love, aiming for the sweet spot of happiness.
Wasn’t that better than letting my demons beat me?
She’s not your mum…
Would she have ever told me I was adopted? Did she know about my heritage?
