She unravels it and slides her arms into each sleeve, I get a flash of her breasts and cute belly button before she pulls the sweatshirt over her head and covers her body up. She reaches behind her neck, freeing her hair from the collar.
“So is your lady friend okay?” she asks, coming to a stand.
Tilting my head to the side, I sense a tone of jealousy. Why else would she ask? The corner of my lip curls up, fighting a smile.
“Um, that lady friend was my mother, and yes. She is fine,” I inform her, sitting down on the couch. Her face is stoic, and she crosses her arms.
“O-oh. I didn’t. I mean…” She stumbles on her words. I ignore her flustered state and pick the pillow up to find the remote to the TV, turning it on.
“What about you, do you have family?” I dig.
She sits in the chair across from me, folding her legs Indian style. Her neck muscles flex as she stares at the screen.
“I don’t have a family. I don’t have anyone.” Her head slowly turns before pinning me with sallow eyes. I should have asked, I know she doesn’t have parents. I was informed of that information at the state hospital when we were kids. I was told she killed her parents, I open my mouth to ask her if it’s true but think better of it.
Leaning forward, I put the remote on the coffee table and rub my chin, the prickle of hair under my palm telling me I need to shave.
“How about we order some Chinese food and watch TV? I bet you haven’t seen a lot of the good movies that have come out.”
She looks down, her fingers messing with the sleeves of her hoodie.
“I’ve never had Chinese,” she whispers, and I smirk, that felicitous feeling coming back to me. Fuck, how long has she been captive?
“I know what’s good. I’ll order.” Pushing up off the couch, I head into the kitchen to find the menu in one of the drawers that’s open. Taking out the small piece of paper with Chinese writing on it, I begin to close all the drawers and shut the cabinets that Luna left open.
The sound of Luna’s footsteps has me lift my head up and catch her walking towards me, a timid look crosses her pale face.
“I’m just going to wash up.” she informs before looking away, as if staring into my eyes caused a strike of fear.
“Of course.” I keep my tone gentle. I hate that she’s so scared; traumatized even.
Just as I pull out my phone to order for us, it dawns on me that I’m excited. I’m fucking excited to be staying in, eating Chinese food and showing Luna some of my favorite movies. Shaking my head of the thought, I dial the number.
This is just temporary, I tell myself. She’ll get better and want to leave. Like her, nobody wants me either. Which is fine, it’s best that way.
Luna
Lying on the couch in a food coma, half asleep, I try to keep my eyes open to watch the rest of Bird Box. We already watched Lakeview Terrace and Jurassic Park. I’m so comfortable and at ease, I just want to sleep here. To be that person who falls asleep on the couch watching TV. I’ve never done that before.
My eyes blink heavily, and before I know it, the sound of the TV fades out and I’m slipping into a peaceful sleep.
Stirring awake, my cheek stuck to my hand from sleeping on it, I sit up and look around the dark room. The TV is off, Romeo isn’t on the other couch, and all the Chinese food is missing from the coffee table. Darn, I could go for another one of those ragoon thingies. A weird noise has the hair on the back of my neck stand on end and I sit up, listening for it again.
I hear a strangled moan that sounds like Romeo, and I throw the blanket off me to find him. I pass his chair, the lights from the city shining in on the polished floor and into his room. He’s in his bed, tossing back and forth, a disgruntled moan echoing through the room. He’s having a bad dream. I’m no stranger to those. They feel so real sometimes that when you wake your mind is still in the state of the nightmare. Goose bumps on your arms, your heartbeat racing, and your mind silently whispering it’s just a dream.
Coming inside a little more, I stand on the other side of the bed and watch him, curious if he’ll settle down. His eyes move under his lids, his face pinched together as if he’s in pain. Lifting the blanket, I climb under and scoot next to him, he’s just wearing a pair of loose shorts, his chest bare. I can feel his body heat. I look around the room frantically, my hands fidgeting with one another. I reach out to touch him, my hand quivering at the thought of touching him. Holding my breath, my finger gently presses into his arm, and his forehead wrinkles. I freeze and watch him, curious if he’ll wake up and be upset I’m in here. He moans again, and for the first time I don’t see grown-up Romeo, I see the kid in the hospital who was terrified. I want to help him, like he did me. Swallowing my own fear and problems down, I thrust forward, wrapping my arms around him. Trying my best to imitate a straitjacket. His skin soft and dewy from sweating, the smell of musk and honey all over me at once, he stills in my arms. He curls into me and my eyes widen, not expecting that. His chin rests on my head, my arms barely able to fit around him he’s so full of hard muscle. His weight is
