Page 57 of Moonstruck at Midnight
William took a seat on the empty sunbed beside me. “Sorry.”
Hedoesknow how to use that word. I laid back again on the sunbed, took a long hit of the cigarette.What do you want?
“Isn’t the crescent moon the best moon?” he asked, looking up. He saw me looking at it just before he sneaked up on me and tried giving me a heart attack.
William extended his hand and pulled my right earphone off. He placed it on his left ear. “Regina Spektor?” I nodded. He held his hand out, looking at the iPod. I placed it in his hand. “Aren’t you a 90s girl? Cranberries, Alanis Morissette, Dave Matthews Band,” he said as he browsed through my playlist. This wasn’t my idea of relaxing, but it was surely distracting. “Radiohead? You’ve got a varied taste in music.”
“I like good music.”
“I can see that. I know Dave. He’s a good friend,” he said casually.
“Matthews?”
“Ah, yes.”
“What? How?”
“From work,” he replied. That was vague. William had probably cooked for him or something since he was a chef. “So, what’s your favorite Dave Matthews song?” He extended two fingers my way, asking me to pass my cigarette to him. He gave it a puff and returned it to me. I offered the cigarette box, and he took it out of my hands.
“Crash Into Me.”
“Great song. Mine’s Say Goodbye.” He smiled with an arched brow and opened the box, still looking at me.
“That’s—a great song too.” Just thinking about the lyrics got me feeling all weird inside.
“I didn’t imagine you’d be a smoker,” he said.
“I’m not.”
“Those things will kill you.”
I snorted. “Like you care.”
“I won’t let you die alone.” He pulled the last cigarette out of the box. Caleb had turned it around to have the filter face down on the bottom of the box. “Lucky cigarette. Sure, you don’t want it?” I wasn’t going to smoke three cigarettes. He could have it all to himself.
“I’m done with luck. Starting with those silly midsummer flowers I placed under my pillow—they’ve only brought misfortune.”
“How so?” He sat up straight to face me, and the earphone fell off from his ear. His eyes were filled with curiosity.
“William, if you’re here to torture me, just know there’s nothing left for you to torture.” I placed the hanging earphone back on my right ear and turned away. He rested his forearms on his knees and shook his head slowly as he removed my left earphone.
“I want to know all about your bad-luck midsummer flowers,” he said, lifting the corners of his irritatingly perfect lips into a subtle smile.
“Well—for starters, they made me dream about you, so it all went downhill from there,” I said, trying to discourage a smile, but William’s cheerful expression vanished from his face. Who knew all it took to wipe out that cocky smile of his was to tell him I had dreamt of him? I’d make sure to write that down somewhere for future reference.
“What kind of dream was it?” he asked, his tone analytical. I didn’t know if I regretted having said that, butfuck it.I wasn’t in the mood for caring about William’s opinion. Not tonight.
“Don’t get your hopes up. It wasn’tthatkind of dream. It was really stupid. Drinking alcohol that night might’ve made me thirsty or something, and somehow, I translated that into my dream. You appeared out of nowhere, gave me a glass of water, and left. That was it.” I lowered my chin and looked up at him, making sure he understood it was not a big deal. Plus, it was the truth.
He looked away and snorted with a big smile that lasted a second, but his face went grim again. His gaze fell from my eyes to my cheekbone. “Did he hurt you?”
“No, of course not.” I shook my head and pressed my lips together. “He wouldn’t hurt me like that.”
“So, he would, just not physically?”
“That’s not what I meant I—”
“Then why is your face bruised?” He wouldn’t stop staring. His tone made me nervous and add that deep, rugged timbre of his to the mix … damn it. I couldn’t look away either.
