As fast as lightning, Samson reaches out and grasps my chin, softly forcing my gaze up to his. “I’m going to be more than just your first, Luna—I’m going to be your only.”
Chills sweep over me as a smile turns up my lips. “Yes, please.”
Samson grins, looking all too pleased with himself. Which is surprising; I thought for sure he’d feel guilty and lecture me on making better choices.
Which would have been stupid, because his words would have absolutely fallen on deaf ears. There’s nothing, and I mean nothing, that could make me regret what just happened between us.
“Happy Birthday, Stella.”
I rise up onto my tiptoes and press a soft kiss to his jaw. “Thank you, Samson… for all of it. For everything.”
He steps back, once again putting a bit of distance between us. “The day’s just getting started.”
“What else are we doing?”
He glances down at my barely covered body and fists his hands at his sides. “Get dressed.”
I roll my eyes but turn toward my room anyway. “Well, whatever you have planned, I hope it involves cupcakes.”
“You know it does. Now, come on before I do something I’ll regret.”
My shoulders tense at his words—something Samson’s keen eyes catch immediately.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I try to shrug it off, but it stings.
“Luna.” The tone of his voice freezes in place, but I keep my back to him. “Talk to me.”
“Let me change first,” I say, desperate to buy myself some time.
“Look at me first.”
I draw in a deep breath before glancing at him over my shoulder. He studies my face long and hard before nodding.
“Hurry.”
I bolt into my room, throwing the door shut behind me. How can my body and my brain be in such different places?
My body still feels like it’s burning up for him… for his touch.
But my brain, it may as well be in Antarctica, it’s so cold.
Did I push him too far? Does he regret kissing me? Is he mad? Disappointed?
I’m torn between hiding in my room until he leaves and going out there and facing him. What if he tells me he wants to take a break?
Surely, he won’t, right? Not over a hot and heavy make-out sesh.
I pace in front of my closet before finally pulling on the first outfit I see.
Except, when I step out of my room, he’s not there.
“I told your parents I would.” I slink down the steps, following the sound of his voice all the way into the kitchen. “Plus, you know it’s our tradition.”
I know I shouldn’t listen in on their conversation, that it’s rude, but I find myself holding my breath all the same.
“Sounds like a good time, man. I wish I could be there.”
My hackles rise. Where would he rather be than here? With me?
He’s silent for a minute before a bark of laughter escapes him. “Hey, well, at least without me there you stand a chance.”
Dread pools in my gut. I don’t know how I know it, but I am one-hundred percent certain they’re talking about other girls. Girls Samson wishes he was with, but isn’t because he promised my parents he would spend the day with me.
It kind of feels like I’m dying inside, even as I try to rationalize what I’m hearing.
I’m so consumed in misery that I don’t make out any more of Samson’s words, until he says, “What about me and Stella?” His tone is defensive.
When I was little, Orion was obsessed with superheroes. We would always pretend we could fly. But right about now, I find myself wishing I had supersonic hearing instead.
“She’s my friend too,” Samson says, and I blanch at his casual use of the F-word.
I know it’s what we are to everyone else, but it hurts a little more than usual after what we just shared upstairs.
“Yeah, well, you don’t have to worry about me trying anything with her.”
I clench my fist and storm into the kitchen, knowing I’ll explode if I have to listen to one more second of this conversation.
“Hey, Stella’s ready. Let me let you go.”
He’s silent for another moment before he shakes his head. “Fuck that. Tell her yourself.” He ends the call, pockets his phone, and then looks to me. “You look angry.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
Samson sighs. “Probably because you just listened to half of my phone call with your brother.”
I cross my arms over my chest and nod.
“Listen, you know I love you, right?”
Another nod.
“And you know I want us to be together, out in the open?”
“Yeah.”
“But we can’t yet, Stella. So, if that means I have to lie to your brother—to my best friend—to keep you, then I will.”
“It just hurts.” I bite my lip, feeling like a brat. “I want the whole world to know you’re mine.”
“And they will, Luna. One more year and everyone will know we’re together, okay?”
“You promise?”
He reaches into his pocket, retrieving a black velvet box.
“What’s this?” I ask as he passes it to me.
“Open it,” he says with a lopsided grin.
I suck in a deep breath and then flip back the lid, revealing a simple silver band. “Samson?” I exhale his name, all thoughts of secrets and remorse long gone.
“I know it’s not much, but it’s a promise, Luna.” He plucks the ring from the box. “It’s a promise that every part of me belongs to every part of you. I love you, Stella. I. Love. You.”
Tears burn the backs of my eyes as he slides the ring onto my finger. “I love you too, Samson Carter.”
“Next year, I’ll get you a real ring. One with a diamond.”
I smile up at him, not bothering to wipe my tears. “I don’t give a flip about a ring, as long as I have you.”
“Always.” He leans in and presses a chaste kiss to my lips. “Now, let’s go get those cupcakes, yeah?”
Chapter Three
Stella, Age 18
He never shows.
Chapter Four
Samson
Luna: You suck. Like, you really fucking suck. Tonight was supposed to be the night, but you just had to go and ruin it.
Luna: You told me always. That you’d love me always. That you’d be mine always. What a joke.
Luna: You’re a chicken-shit liar and a thief.
Luna: Okay, not a literal thief, but you stole my heart with your blue eyes and silver tongue. I’d like it back, because frankly, you’re not worthy of it.
Luna: I hate you.
Luna: I want to hate you.
Like the fucking masochist I am, I read over the last texts Stella sent for me the hundredth time in as many days. I read the fucking thread every night before bed, just to torture myself.
She’s right though. I am a chicken shit. I gave her up out of fear. I ran like a yellow-bellied coward.
Not because I didn’t want her, because I did.