Page 129 of Wishing for La Luna
Sel smiles, and because she’s an agent of chaos, says, “Rio’s here too. Want me to put him on so you can say something to him?”
Luna doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, tell him I wish he was here. I would kiss him so I can shove each and every single one of these Norovirus germs down his throat. I want him to feel as good as I do right now. Maybe he can fucking dance it off and barf or shit himself onstage.”
“Luna,” Sel yells, tapping manically on the phone screen. “Stop, you’re on speaker.”
“I don’t give a fuck. I feel like shit and that fucker?—”
Her voice cuts off.
Tito bursts out laughing. “Man, she sounds like my girl.”
Sel comes back to the sitting area, a little red and apologetic. “I’m sorry. She’s not feeling well. She beasts out when she’s sick—always has. And the Norovirus is no joke.”
I remember her in the hospital after she got drugged. She was nasty work back then, too.
“It’s fine. Tell her all I heard is that she wants to put her tongue back in my mouth.”
Sel’s eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “Hell no. I don’t gaslight my cousin when she’s sick. Luna has a temper.”
Tell me about it.I have the texts to prove it.
“I’m going to send her some soup from our fave Dominican restaurant. Let me call her back.”
She heads to the room, and Tito chortles. “Jesus, that was…something.”
I shrug like it’s no big deal. “I hope she feels better soon or not. I don’t care.”
But I jump on my phone. Maybe I’m crazier than her, because I’m on the site, ordering her something before I can question it.
“Want me to distract Sel so you can be Luna’s hero?”
And it’s almost pathetic the way I nod, and he springs to his feet.
Fuck, I’m a simp.
I go to my room and sit in my bed with my notebook in hand.
Soy prisionero
De tu Orgullo
De tu ira
De tu falta de corazon
A restless soul at your mercy
You beat my heart
Stomp on my feelings
Blame me for it
But I don’t run
At the first sign of distress
Stockholm kicks in
