Chasing the Moon: A Second Chance Standalone Romance

by S. M. Soto

  Right when I think their horseplay is good and over, another one of the jerks bumps into me as he runs by, and, this time, instead of my book almost tumbling to the ground, it’s me. I lose my footing, causing my knees to skid along the concrete. I let out a hiss of pain, my eyes slamming shut against the burning of my flesh. My kneecaps may be battered, but at least my book is safe.

  “Hey! Watch it!”

  My breath leaves me in a sharp gasp, and my body tenses at the sound of the voice I’d know anywhere. I feel someone crouch beside me, and when I glance up through the curtain of hair that’s shielding most of my face from view, my breath lodges in my throat.

  Endymion Black.

  He’s kneeling in front of me, peering through my dark strands, as those bright green eyes study me. “You all right?”

  Forcing a thick swallow, I’m afraid my violently pounding heart is so loud he can hear it. Perspiration beads along my forehead, and when I brush my hair away from my face to get a better look at him, my stomach dips. He’s handsome. So incredibly handsome. It quite literally takes my breath away.

  Suddenly remembering he asked me a question, I nod my head slowly. His brows draw together, and the muscle in his jaw flexes as though he’s suddenly angry. He looks around us, glaring at the assholes in the distance who knocked me over.

  “You sure?”

  “Y-eah,” I whisper. My mouth is painfully dry. The saliva feels like sandpaper as it goes down. He places his hand between us and helps me to my feet. The second I place my hand in his, I feel a tremor wrack my body. Lightning slithers down my spine, damn near electrocuting me.

  My knees ache a little when I stand upright, and he must sense it. His gaze homes in on my exposed knees, and he frowns. “You’re bleeding. Fucking assholes.”

  Warmth settles in my cheeks, and I avert my gaze, unable to look at him for too long without feeling like I’m in a cartoon and have hearts floating above my head. I can feel his piercing gaze in the depths of my soul. I tighten my grip on the book in my arms, and he takes notice.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a mythology book.”

  “Pretty big book for a little thing like you.”

  Fighting to tamp down my shy smile, I lift my shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “It’s interesting. I don’t mind carrying it around.”

  He smiles then, and hell, it leaves a permanent mark on my soul. It etches itself into every fiber of my being until the very end of time. Endymion jerks his head over his shoulder. “C’mon, I’ll walk with you. Maybe this time you won’t get trampled.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek, so I don’t grin like a lunatic as I step in stride beside him. We walk in silence for a little while until he asks me more about the book.

  “So what is it you like about mythology?”

  I shrug. “The stories, I guess. The ability to believe in higher beings. Shooting for the stars, you name it.”

  He grins. “My mom’s family was the same way. Hell, it was why she named me Endymion.”

  “I like it. Your name, I mean. I think it suits you.”

  He raises a brow. “How so?”

  “He was a handsome shepherd, and you’re…” I trail off, the words getting caught in my throat when I realize what I almost let slip. He knows, though, because he chuckles. The sound is warm and deep, and it travels through me in waves.

  I suddenly have the urge to reach for my necklace. I grasp it, rubbing my thumb along the silver to breathe past my nervousness.

  “It’s a nice necklace. I take it you like the moon?”

  My gaze shoots to his. “How can you tell?”

  His lips twitch as if he’s fighting a smirk. “The necklace. Your shirt. The design on your backpack. Kinda gave it all away.”

  I smile, despite myself. I forgot about all that. Not many people ask why I dress the way I do or why I’m so obsessed with the moon. No one has ever truly cared. Until now.

  “I do like it. The moon. My name…my name belonged to the moon goddess. Guess I’ve just always been a little obsessed.”

  “Ah. Yeah. That makes sense. What did this goddess do?”

  I want to tell him. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say she drove the moon across the sky and fell in love with a handsome shepherd by the name of Endymion, but I don’t say that. I don’t get the chance to because I’m suddenly nudged from the side, and when I hear the high, lilting laughter, I cringe.

  “Endy! There you are. Why didn’t you wait for us? You know we hate walking alone.” Holly Matthews pouts. Her best friend Reina pouts right along with her. She’s also the one who bumped me out of the way with her hip, nearly knocking me down. Again.

  I’m all but forgotten now that Holly and Reina are here. I slow my pace, falling back as I watch him walk away with them, a sharp ache slicing through my chest. Why does it hurt so much? Having crushes shouldn’t cause this much pain.

  My heart shrivels in my chest when Endymion glances back at me with his brows drawn in. I sense he’s going to say something or maybe call out to me until Holly’s manicured hand forces his gaze back on her. Always her.

  I spend the rest of the walk home gripping my mythology book and fighting back my tears with a sinking sensation in the pit of my gut. I’m a few blocks away from my street when I feel a presence behind me. The hairs at the nape of my neck stand at attention, and when I glance over my shoulder, my brows draw in, realizing no one’s there. Shaking the odd sensation off, I chalk it up to me being alone instead of me being followed.

  As I round the corner of the block, I suddenly crash into something and let out a surprised shriek. A husky laugh follows, and my gaze treks up to the source. My eyes widen when I realize who it is.

  “Thomas?”

  He chuckles, his dark, inky locks hanging haphazardly in his face, as though he hasn’t had the time to brush it away in days. Thomas Wentworth has always been town royalty. Though it seems that title has never really sat well with him, so he became the town bad boy instead. I think he thrives on the attention and loves that the women in this town think he’s an unattainable miscreant. That is, until Endymion showed up in town. All the attention he basked under slowly went from him to End, and it’s obvious he doesn’t like it.

  “Ah, always so formal. Always so sweet, aren’t you, Selene?”

  I force a swallow. “I’m not always sweet.”

  He smirks, clearly knowing better. “Coming home from school?” he asks, his gaze trailing up and down my body, taking in my outfit of choice. I adjust the strap of my backpack on my shoulder, feeling uncomfortable with his scrutiny.

  “I am.” I make it a point to look at his clothes and quirk a brow. “Are you?”

  Something glints in his eyes at my sass. He rubs his mouth absentmindedly, covering his grin. “Nah, I skipped today. Had some other things to do. You should try it sometime.”

  “Try what?”

  “Skipping school.” He steps closer to me. Close enough I can smell him and the distinct scent of marijuana. “With me.”

  My gut clenches and not in a good way. “I can’t do that.”

  He rolls his eyes as if I’m annoying him. “Fine, what about now? Instead of going home, come back to my place with me. We’ll hang out.”

  Something about his proposition seems off. Everything about him right now seems off. Heck, we’re almost four years apart. I’m the last person he should be asking to hang out with him. I’m young. A nobody.

  “You want to hang out with me at your place? To do what?” I ask dubiously.

  He smiles then. It’s not soft or warm. It’s the opposite, actually. It has fear rippling down my spine. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”

  I take a wobbly step away from him, glancing around the quiet neighborhood, searching for help. Conveniently for him, there’s no one to be found. “Sorry, but I can’t. My mom and dad are waiting for me.”

  I try to hurry past him, but his hand shoots out, pressing up against
my sternum to halt my progression. “Haven’t you ever lived a little, little moon?” he asks, stepping into me. I swallow the sudden lump in my throat and work to control my heavy breathing.

  “Bye, Thomas.”

  Rushing past him, I nearly run home as fear swirls in my gut. I force myself not to look back at him, not even once.

  July 2011—Past

  Today is my fifteenth birthday, and I finally feel like I’m at an age where I can keep up with Endymion and stay on his radar. I’ve spent years watching the girls and women in this town gush over him as though he’s a piece of meat. I’ve nursed my battered heart time and time again as I watched him go out on dates with undeserving girls—just waiting, hoping, and praying he’d eventually take notice of me.

  Sadly, he never did.

  A few months after he turned eighteen, he left town for work, and I was sure I’d never see him again. Without having him in town, I felt the suffocating weight of my homelife creep in on me. I didn’t have anything to look forward to anymore with him gone. I didn’t have anything to distract me from the constant fights and bickering. There was only so much tension a teen could handle. I felt like I was walking on eggshells every day, trying to do everything I could to keep things civil between my parents.

  Half the time, it didn’t work.

  Since my parents got in a huge fight about money last night, any thought of sharing cake or dinner at the table together for my birthday was out of the question. So instead, I told them I was going to hang out with some friends. I wasn’t really interested in the party everyone planned on going to tonight. I was more interested in the man who, I’d learned only a few days prior, was back home for a few weeks. Since we share a birthday, I know today Endymion is turning nineteen, and even though the years between us might be a cause for concern to some, I don’t think it matters. I’ve loved him since I was kid, and that won’t change anytime soon.

  I’ve never been more sure of anything.

  I spend most of the night looking for him at Seth Ferguson’s party, but he is nowhere to be found. Even though I just started at Dunsmuir High, and, normally, attending parties is a rite of passage, they aren’t exactly my scene. It’s too much chaos for a girl like me. I prefer to be at home curled up with a good book or outside, staring up at the moon.

  I finally give up and decide to head home. And almost as though it was meant to be, as I am crossing the street on my way home, too busy staring up at the moon distractedly, I don’t notice the guy running in my path. An oompf of air escapes my lungs and echoes down the quiet street. When I glance up, all I’m able to process is the blood rushing through my veins and my heart pounding violently in my chest. It is like the organ is trying to break free at the sight of a sweaty Endymion.

  He’s shirtless, his broad muscles on display, and it’s an impossible task not to stop and gawk at all the muscles, protruding veins, and the droplets of sweat rolling down each rivulet.

  “Shit, sorry,” he breathes out, plucking a white earbud out of his ear. The music on his iPod must be on full blast because I can hear the strains of rock music screeching through the earbud, even from here. His hair is a drenched mess, the longer strands sticking to his damp forehead in these cute little swirls that have me itching to reach up and tuck them back.

  “No, you’re fine. I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” I ramble, and instead of brushing past him and continuing on my way home, I stand there, still gawking at him as though he’s a Greek god. His brows suddenly dip, his face clouding with a frown as he glances around us.

  “What are you doing over here? It’s not exactly safe to be walking home alone at night.”

  My stomach does somersaults and backflips at the fact he cares about my well-being. Heat creeps up my neck and settles on my cheeks, but I force a nonchalant shrug, shifting on my feet.

  “Nothing has ever happened before. Plus, I know everyone in the neighborhood. I only live a few more blocks away.”

  He still looks uncomfortable with the thought of me walking on my own. And be still my little heart, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this giddy.

  “Which way are you headed?” I point behind him, and he follows the trajectory of my finger and nods. “C’mon, I’d feel much better if I knew you got home safely.”

  It’s a struggle to pull air into my lungs as I walk alongside End. His breathing is still heavy from his run, yet it’s controlled, much more controlled than mine would be if I went for a run.

  “So you run at night?”

  He shrugs. “It helps me clear my head when I need to think. And there’s more privacy.”

  I snort under my breath. “Too much fanfare during the day?”

  He shoots a bashful smirk my way. “Noticed that, have you?”

  A grin pulls at the corners of my lips. “You’ve been here, what, four years? I think everyone has noticed.”

  He shakes his head, his gaze focused ahead of him. “I hate it. The attention.”

  Surprise flits across my face. “You do?”

  His gaze narrows as he stares off into the distance; the corners of his eyes pinching, and for a fraction of a second, he almost looks pained. “With all that attention comes expectations of me and what I’m doing with my life. I graduated high school, yet…I’m still here. In this small town I swore I wouldn’t stay in, no matter how much my family loves it.”

  My heart cinches at the thought of him leaving again. He was gone for a while to community college a few towns over after he graduated high school, but he didn’t last long. His dad needed help in his automotive shop, and I heard through the grapevine here in town that his parents couldn’t afford the extra expense of college.

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know.” He lifts a shoulder noncommittally. “That’s the problem. I considered football, but that’s not a plausible career. At least not anymore. College is out of the question. I guess the second-best thing would be to continue working at the automotive shop with my dad, but the thought of fixing cars every day for the rest of my fucking life? I can’t stand it.”

  I fall silent. In all the times I pictured myself talking to him, I never thought the conversation would get so serious. I like that he doesn’t have it all together—that he has higher aspirations for himself. A part of me also feels bad for him because, at nineteen, one would think you have everything all figured out, but Endymion? He doesn’t even know who he is at this point.

  Dread settles in the pit of my stomach once we turn down my street, closing in on my house. The walk was too fast. There’s never enough time when it comes to being with Endymion.

  “Well…” I let out a breath. “Whatever you do decide you want to do, just make sure it’s something you love. Something that’ll make you happy. Reach for the stars, Endymion.”

  We pause in front of my house, and I fidget before him, anticipation swirling through my veins as I wonder what will happen next.

  Nothing apparently.

  End smiles. “Thanks, kid. I needed that.” He lets out a loud yawn, jerking his head back toward my house. “Well, good night. And maybe stop walking around in the middle of the night, yeah? The crime rate might be low here, but that doesn’t mean everyone in this town is a saint.”

  With that quick parting statement, he breaks into an unhurried jog. I can feel the moment between us slipping away, so much so that I begin to panic. Swallowing thickly, I call out after him, causing him to jerk to a quick stop.

  “End!”

  He turns, brows raised in question.

  “I just wanted to say…Happy Birthday.”

  He smiles then, and it’s the most beautiful sight. It settles in my stomach, causing warmth to filter through my veins.

  “Happy Birthday, Selene,” he calls out, his gaze pinned to mine. I feel a current travel between us. It’s electric and damn near shocks me. He has to feel it, too. Right?

  Severing the connection, he turns, and I’m left standing there, completely deflate
d as I watch his form disappear into the night.

  Kid.

  Would he ever see me as anything else?

  Once inside, I head straight for the bathroom in the hallway. Flicking on the light, I cringe at my reflection. With long, boring, wavy brown hair, alabaster skin that makes me look like I’m a vampire, and a face that won’t stop anyone in their tracks, I can definitely see why Endymion isn’t exactly falling over himself for me. When I was younger, my hair had a lighter tint to it, more like my father’s dirty blonde, but as I’ve gotten older, the color has evolved.

  Placing my hands on each side of the vanity, I lean forward and scrutinize every part of my face. Making comparisons between myself and every other girl he’s dated. My skin is smooth, like porcelain, which means my cheeks are always unnecessarily rosy. My brows, though shaped and plucked, are still dark and bushy. In my younger years, my “caterpillar brows” were the cause of incessant teasing. My eyes, a simple caramel brown with a ring of green, are identical to my father’s, and I have a slender nose that upturns the slightest bit at the tip, just like my mother’s. My lips are much too big for my face, and when I smile, it only makes it worse. I usually try to keep my mouth closed when I smile, just so I don’t blind everyone by looking like Jim Carrey from The Mask. Even without lipstick or colored lip balm, my lips are naturally a pinkish red, which is annoying since half the popular girls in my class think I’m trying to one-up them. The icing on the shit-cake that are my looks? The smattering of freckles I was cursed with that decorate the bridge of my nose. My grandparents think it’s cute. Me? Not so much.

  With one last self-depreciating glance at myself, I blow out a discontented sigh before heading upstairs. I jerk my gaze up at the sound of stomping feet. My mom’s face is twisted with anger as she flies past me without really seeing me.