by Jordan Marie
“You make it sound like there’s something wrong with dreaming,” I state, not bothering to tell him he’s wrong. He’s not. I do plan. I do dream. I’ve been dreaming about him for years.
“Nothing wrong with dreams, Luna. I have a few of my own,” he says, leaning up on his elbow to look down at me. His hand moves along the side of my face and I swear I can feel his fingers heat my skin.
“Then, what’s wrong with the fact that I plan and dream?”
“Why do you have the nickname Icebox?” he asks, instead of answering.
I frown, my body stiffening at his question.
“I don’t like that name,” I warn him.
“I guess that means you know why you got it?”
“Larry Richards started spreading it around after I wouldn’t go to prom with him,” I mumble, anger and humiliation mixed in with my explanation. I hate the nickname. I let on like it doesn’t bother me, but it does. The fact that Gavin knows about it makes it worse. No girl wants the boy she likes to know that kind of stuff about her.
“Why didn’t you go to the prom with him?” he asks.
“I didn’t want to.”
“But you went to the prom on your own. No date, right? I thought you girls loved having prom dates.”
“I would have liked going to prom with a guy I liked. I don’t like Larry.”
“He’s the football star quarterback.”
“He’s also a douche canoe,” I argue.
Gavin laughs. “You’ll get no argument from me.”
“Then you should know why I didn’t go out with him.”
“Fair enough, but the point is you could have gone out a million times the last two years and you shot every last one down.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m cold,” I mutter.
Words are powerful. They wound you deeply. People thought they were being funny and cute. But, every time I heard someone call me that, it felt like I was swallowing down rusty metal—and choking on it.
“I didn’t think it did,” he says, but that’s when something occurs to me. Something so horrible it feels painful only thinking it.
“Is that what this is about?” I ask, pulling away to look at him.
“This?”
“Did you just invite me out here to see if you could ‘defrost the icebox’, Gavin?”
“Guess you’ve heard that talk, too,” he responds, but at least he doesn’t sound like he’s laughing at me. He even sounds a little… pissed.
“Half the boys that ask me out do so on a dare and a bet.”
“I’m not one of those boys, Luna. Don’t get me twisted up with them in that pretty head of yours.”
“Okay,” I answer quietly, noting that he doesn’t sound a little pissed now. Gavin is simply angry.
“Larry Richards needs his ass kicked,” he mutters, and I don’t respond to that—mostly because I feel that way too.
“You’re upset,” I dare to mention.
“Well, yeah, I am. I just meant to show you that you were waiting for Mr. Perfect to come along and he doesn’t exist. Your dreams and mine are way too different.”
“I wasn’t waiting for Mr. Perfect, Gavin.”
“Who were you waiting on then?” he asks.
I want to tell him the truth. I want to confess that I’ve been waiting for him, but I don’t. He probably would think I’m insane then—or run the other way.
“Mr. Perfect-For-Me.”
He looks at me stunned for a minute before his lips spread into a full grin. I can see them perfectly from the light of the moon that’s come back out from behind the clouds. I see him and he’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than Gavin smiling at me like this and his eyes crinkling in the corners.
“What are your dreams, Gavin?” I ask him.
“Not waiting around for Mr. Perfect-For-Me, I can tell you that.”
“That’s good, because he’s going to be a little busy with me if he ever shows up.”
“I…” he stops when he realizes what I said and it seems impossible, but that grin deepens.
“It takes a lot of work to defrost an icebox, you know.”
“Smart ass.” he laughs, leaning down, and my eyes seem to get trapped in his heated gaze. His head bends down closer and my breath stalls in my chest.
This is it.
This is the moment I’ve been waiting for my entire life.
Gavin Lodge is going to kiss me.
My very first kiss.
My eyes start to close, as I tilt up towards him.
And then….
Gavin kisses my forehead.
Disappointment feels like a living thing inside of me. I swallow it down and the hurt I feel too. I’m left feeling confused, and I pull back to ask Gavin what’s going on, but he wraps a strand of my hair around his finger, not allowing me to withdraw.
“You’re dangerous, Luna,” he whispers. I frown in response, having no idea what he means.
Before I can ask, he shifts us so that I’m once again lying on my side and he’s spooning me as we look out over the lake. We lie in silence like that for a bit, and I enjoy being in his arms. That’s enough for now.
It has to be.
“The moon is beautiful,” I whisper sometime later and more to myself than Gavin. He’s been quiet for so long now, that I figure he might be asleep.
“Whenever I look at the moon,” he responds, “I always think of you.”
“Because of my name.” I smile, liking his answer.
“Everyone looks up at the sky and wishes on the stars, gets lost in them, but it’s the moon that is the queen. The moon controls so much, keeps everything in balance and she does it without realizing it, without drawing attention to herself.”
“That makes you think of me?”
“Trust me, Luna. The moon may have a gravitational pull that controls the ocean, but your pull is just as strong.”
His words move through me slowly, sinking in. They feel huge. They feel deep and thoughtful and they’re so beautiful I can’t wrap my mind around them. We fall silent for a little longer. I can feel myself drifting off to sleep, but before I do, I have to ask one more time.
“What are your dreams, Gavin?”
“To graduate and leave Stone Lake and the entire state of Maine behind in my dust.”
“Where would you go?” I ask, hating the idea of him leaving.
“Anywhere the road takes me,” he says.
“You wouldn’t miss Stone Lake?”
“Not even a little. Although after tonight…”
“Yeah?” I whisper.
“After tonight, I’ll miss the lake part of it for sure,” he says.
I look out over the water and think about his answer, but Gavin’s not done.
“And I’ll miss a beautiful girl with sunny blonde hair and green eyes, who feels really good in my arms.”
“Gavin…”
“And I know that whenever I look up at the moon, I’ll never fail to think of her.”
I like that. I like that he says it, and more importantly, that he feels that way.
I like it a lot… but at the same time, for some reason, it makes me unbearably sad.
I don’t know how to respond. So, I say nothing.
Eventually, I fall asleep and I do it in Gavin’s arms. He might want to leave Stone Lake behind, but as for me, right now I want nothing more than to stay here forever.
Here, in Gavin’s arms.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LUNA
“I can’t believe you spent the night with Gavin Lodge!” Jules squeals.
I blush, feeling warm all the way through. I look down at my hands and I smile. I can’t stop myself from grinning. Gavin held my hand. I laid my head on his shoulder. He talked to me. He likes me. But…
“What if he goes back to ignoring me, Jules?” I ask, terrified that he will. Terrified that Friday night was merely a fluke.
He didn’t kiss me. He had to know he could. He d
idn’t even try. We stayed out alone all night, hugged up together on the dock and he didn’t try… anything. That can’t be normal. It wouldn’t be with any other guy I know and not only because I’ve become a challenge to see who can “defrost” me. Besides Gavin was held back a year. He’s a year older than me and the guys in my classes. I know it’s a year, but he has to be used to girls who…
Aren’t scared virgins like I am.
An insecure virgin.
“Oh, come on! No guy like Gavin Lodge is going to spend the night with you and not follow up. Not happening chick, especially if he didn’t hit it.”
“I—”
“Oh my God! You didn’t give him your V-card did you, Luna?”
“No,” I mutter.
“You so should have. I would if I were you. Gavin has to be better than Toby Drysen who I gave mine too,” she says with a sigh.
“He didn’t even try to get to second base, let alone punch my V-card,” I confess, almost lying. What I tell her is the truth, but it’s not quite. I’m kind of sketchy on exactly what first, second and third base are. I’m pretty sure that Gavin didn’t even try to get to first base though. I don’t want to tell Jules that, so I tell her he didn’t try to hit second. I have no idea about any of this crap, but I don’t want to look stupid. I get whispered about enough. People think I’m a freak. I’m not. I just want my first time to be with someone I love.
With Gavin.
I’m not a cold fish, and I’m definitely not clinging to my virginity.
“He didn’t even try to touch you?” she asks, sounding way too surprised. She stares at me, and I feel so uncomfortable I squirm on my bed.
Obviously, we made it back from the campout without my parents finding out and the end of the world happening. It’s Saturday night now and Jules is sleeping over at my house and we’ve vegged out watching movies and scarfing down popcorn and candy all evening. I wish it was Sunday. I already want to see Gavin again, and I know that’s not going to happen until time for school. I’m scared about what’s going to happen, but I can’t wait either. I’m a spaz.
The thought makes me smile and I look down at my hand.
The hand that Gavin held…
I keep repeating that, mostly because I can’t get over it. My hand feels different. Sometimes I can almost feel Gavin’s hold… even now.
“Luna?”
“What?” I ask, totally distracted and imagining Gavin’s hand on mine.
“Did he try to touch you?”
“Of course. I mean he held my hand and he kept his hand on my stomach the whole night, holding me close to him,” I tell her, my voice sounding more than a little dreamy as I think of the way he held me.
“He didn’t feel you up?”
“What?”
“He didn’t like grab your boob? Put his hand down your pants? Nothing?” she asks, clearly not impressed.
Those insecurities I’ve been having all come raging to life full force now.
“Well… no.”
“That’s not good,” she mutters.
“It’s not?” I ask, panic thick inside of me as my heart squeezes painfully in my chest.
“Not at all? A guy like Gavin who is rumored to have been with over half the girls at Garrad County High? So not good, Luna.”
I ignore her words about the many girls that Gavin has probably slept with and how bad that makes me feel. Instead, I let the fact that she’s obviously thinking something is wrong as well to feed my panic.
“Do you think it means he’s not really interested in me?” I confess my biggest fear.
“I don’t know,” she says, almost guiltily.
“Crap,” I moan, and I fall headfirst on the bed, burying my face in my pillow, suddenly wanting to cry.
“I mean you would think he’d have to be interested to single you out,” she soothes, trying to reassure me. I feel my hope trying to come back to life and then, the next instant, Jules snuffs it out. “Unless he was just trying to piss off Atticus.”
“Attie? How would asking me to go off with him piss Attie off?” I ask, thoroughly confused.
“Girl, please. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the way Atticus moons over you.”
“He does not,” I deny, but I do it while blushing, because I know Atticus has a crush on me. But, he’s only a friend and after last night with Gavin, that’s all he could ever be.
“Get real. You know better,” she laughs, not buying my denial in the slightest.
“We’re just friends,” I mumble.
“Maybe on your end. But Atticus and Gavin hate each other. The whole school knows that.”
“Yeah, I think they might.”
“So, there’s only one solution,” Jules announces.
“What’s that?” I ask, desperately wanting to do whatever I can so that Gavin doesn’t slip through my fingers.
He’s the one for me. I love him. I can be the girl who gives him the happiness that he doesn’t get because of his dad now. I can fix everything wrong in his life and show him how great our lives will be together. Then, he’ll want forever plans, too.
I just know it.
“You have to flirt with Atticus.”
“I will…. Wait. What?”
“You have to make Gavin jealous so he will notice you and claim you as his. You have to let him think you might go to Atticus if he doesn’t pay you attention,” she plots, nodding her head for emphasis.
“I can’t do that, Jules,” I respond, shaking my head.
“You gotta. It’s the only way to handle boys. You have to make them want what belongs to someone else.”
She sounds so positive.
I get this sick feeling in my stomach.
I want Gavin. I want him so much… but…
“What if I do it with someone else besides Atticus? What about Larry?”
“No. It has to be Atticus. There’s competition there. Remember how Atticus always talks about Gavin being held back a year and forced to be in the same grade with him? They compete over everything. Nope. If you want Gavin, you’re going to have to flirt with his brother.”
I fall back into my pillow, completely deflated and full of despair.
Crap.
CHAPTER EIGHT
GAVIN
“I guess you’re proud of yourself,” Atticus growls as I walk into the bedroom.
I ignore him and flop down on the hard, twin mattress of my bed, grab a baseball that is sitting on the nightstand and start tossing it up in the air, catching it.
Our beds used to be bunks, but we separated them years ago—his moved on one side of the room and mine all the way against the wall on the other side. They’re as far apart as we can physically get them, and if there was another bedroom, or hell, even room in the garage, they would be even farther apart. I think it kind of symbolizes how our relationship is.
“You just couldn’t stay away from Luna, could you? Had to make your play because you knew that I liked her.”
He’s not wrong. I couldn’t stay away from her, and I hated that my brother was getting close to her. I could watch her with anyone but him—at least that’s what I tell myself. The truth is, seeing Luna with any guy would probably piss me off.
“Talk to me, damn you!” he yells.
The only thing that Atticus and I have ever agreed on, is the mutual hate of our father. It’s a dick move, but since he wants me to talk, I decide to point out the obvious.
“You sound just like our father right now.”
“You bastard,” he snarls then launches himself at me. I’d just caught the baseball and I hurl it toward him in reflex. It hits him on the shoulder, bouncing off to crash against the window. The sound of glass shattering registers for nearly a second before Atticus’s body connects with mine and his fist slams under my chin. The force of the blow jerks my head up, and I ignore the pain as I connect with Atticus’s ribs. We trade blows, and I throw him off of me. He crashes on the floor but gets right back up and charges ag
ain. I fall back, hitting the table by my bed. It scrapes against the worn, hardwood floors. I feel the edge of the wood cut into my back, as I push back against Atticus.
We’re pretty evenly matched. I’m a little taller than him and maybe a little broader but blow for blow we’re not that different. I might be the first to draw blood, but his next punch cuts my lip and the coppery, bitter taste of it hits my tongue.
“What the fuck?”
Atticus and I both freeze solid as our father storms into the room. His question is surprisingly sober, no slurring at all. When I look up however, I can tell he’s been drinking. His salt and pepper hair is mussed and sticking up in a million different directions. He hasn’t shaved in a few days and the scruff is mostly gray. He’s wearing a torn white t-shirt that has oil stains on it and barely covers his growing beer belly. There’s a bottle in his hand too. Our father might be wondering what was going on in his sons’ room, but not enough to put down his drink.
“You two assholes cut down the racket. A man can’t even enjoy his drink around here anymore. Keep this shit up and you’ll find yourselves on the street. It’d serve you right. You’re getting too old to depend on me for a roof over your head. That’s not the way the world works.”
I hate him.
I. Hate. Him. That’s all there is to it. He hasn’t paid one bill on this place in so long that I can’t remember the last time he did. The only groceries he buys would be alcohol and maybe the stray loaf of bread. That’s it, but yet he acts like we owe him everything. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know that whatever it is, I want it to be far away from him.
I wasn’t lying when I told Luna my kind and hers don’t mix. This is just more proof.
He turns away from us and walks out of the room, staggering.
That’s dear old dad in a nutshell.
I loosen my hold on Atticus’s shirt and shove him away from me. He goes, not bothering to keep fighting, and I’m glad.
“You should have left her alone,” he mutters as we’re picking up the shit that fell to the floor while we were fighting. I’ll have to find some cardboard to put over the window. Tomorrow I’ll find a piece of wood. There’s no way in hell my father will repair it—that much I know.
