I find it almost fascinating to watch Grey talk about his dad. While he gets emotional, there’s also so much happiness in his eyes. I wonder what that would be like to have happy memories with my parents.
“It sounds like he was an adventurous man,” I say.
“He is—was.” He softly laughs, shaking his head. “There was this one time when I was, like, ten, and he tried to outrun a cop to avoid a ticket, which probably would’ve worked better if he wasn’t driving a minivan. He ended up getting a ticket and bribed me with a baseball game if I didn’t tell my mom what happened.”
“Did you ever tell her?”
“No way. I would’ve kept my mouth shut even without the bribe. It’s guy code not to rat out your best friend.”
“Your dad was your best friend?” The idea seems crazy to me, but with how highly Grey speaks about his dad, I’m not that surprised.
He nods with a sorrowful look in his eyes. “He really was.”
“I couldn’t imagine being best friends with either of my parents.” I absentmindedly fold my fingers around my wrist.
“I don’t blame you. You’re parents . . . They’re intense.” He rubs his hand across his forehead. “I saw you at the store the other day with your mom.”
My mood goes kerplunk. “You did?”
He nods with a look of remorse. “I wanted to come up to you, but I was afraid your mom might rip my head off.”
I duck my head and let my hair curtain my face as my cheeks heat. I’m mortified that he probably saw my mom pat me down when I came out of the store. She didn’t even let me get into the car. She made me stand in front of the car and spread my legs and arms out like a criminal while she searched my pockets.
“You don’t need to be embarrassed.” He brushes my hair out of my face and lowers his head, leveling his gaze with mine. “Your parents should be, not you. They’re the ones who made the scene, and they should be grateful that you’re nice enough to put up with their shit instead of making more of a scene.”
“Maybe, but it’s still hard to be the one standing there while they’re doing the embarrassing stuff.”
“I know it is. I wish it wasn’t that way for you. I wish I could somehow make it better.”
“I wish I could make it better for myself and finally stand up to them, be a stronger person.” I bite my lip at my unexpected confession.
“Maybe one day you will. And it doesn’t make you weak because you haven’t yet. You’re not weak, Luna, at all. Some of the stuff I’ve seen you put up with over the years . . .” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hard. “And you’re so forgiving about it.”
We exchange a look of understanding, and I can tell he wants to say more.
“It’s okay,” I say quietly.
He shakes his head. “No, it’s not.” Another swallow. “There’s so much I want to say to you.”
We stare at each other intensely until a group of people walk in, making a lot of noise and crushing the moment into smithereens.
I realize his fingers are still in my hair a split second before he does. He looks at his hand, and then our gazes collide as his fingers tangle through the locks, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away.
Willow coughs as she sets her bag and books down on the table. The noise startles me, and I jump back, leaving Grey blinking in shock.
I hurry and plant my butt in a seat. “What’s up?” I ask Willow.
“Nothing’s up with me.” Her tone carries an underlying meaning, but she doesn’t overload me with questions like Wynter would. She just sits down in the chair across from mine and looks up at Grey. “You wouldn’t happen to have your test from this morning, would you?”
“I have it in my locker,” he says, gripping the back of the chair.
“Would you mind getting it?” she asks. “If I can see which questions you missed, I’ll be able to get a better feel for where we should start.”
“Sure.” Grey flashes me a smile before he saunters off for the doors with a spring in his walk.
I watch him until he vanishes out the doors then turn back to Willow. “What was with the strange look when I sat down?” I ask as I take out a pen from the spine of my notebook.
She thumbs through the pages of a textbook. “I’ve just never heard you talk that much before to someone outside of our group. That’s all.”
I check the time on the clock above the front desk. “We didn’t talk for that long, did we?”
“You do realize that you two were standing there for over five minutes talking,” she comments with amusement lacing her tone. “I was starting to feel like a third wheel on a date.”
“I’m sorry.” I fold my arms on top of the table. “I didn’t mean to do it. We just sort of started talking and I . . . got lost in the conversation, I guess.”
She clicks a pen and jots something down in a notebook. “Don’t be sorry, but I do want to know what’s going on, especially with what was going on with Wynter. She’s never been nice to Grey or anyone in his group before.”
I grimace. “She thinks I have a thing for him.”
“Thinks?” Her brows rise. “Or knows?”
“I don’t know.” It takes all my strength not to smile as I picture Grey and how he had his fingers in my hair. “Maybe knows.”
She doesn’t seem all that enthusiastic. “Has he ever said sorry to you for what he did?”
“No, but he’s a lot nicer to me and he’s done . . . stuff that’s really helped me out.”
“Like what?”
“Just stuff.”
“Luna, you do know I can tell when you’re lying, right?” she says. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, but just say so. It makes me question how good of friends we are when you lie.”
She’s right. I’m not being a very good friend by lying to her. And I’ve lied a lot to her—to all my friends, especially over the last few days.
“I’m sorry for lying.” I pull the lid off my pen with my teeth. “There’s just some stuff that’s been going on with me that I’m not ready to tell anyone yet.”
“But you told Grey?” It’s not an accusation. Just a simple statement.
“It was kind of by accident that he found out,” I tell her right as the chair beside me is pulled out.
“What was an accident?” Grey asks as he sits down in the chair.
Willow sneaks an I-have-this look in my direction then smiles at Grey. “Me and Luna getting invited to Pete Ashfon’s fall/summer bash,” she lies without missing a beat.
“I hate going to that stupid party.” Grey slides his test across the table toward Willow. “It takes forever to get to his house, and by the time my friends and I get there, they’re wasted and ready to pass out.”
“We’re not going, either.” Willow sneaks a glance at me. “Luna and I kind of made this pact.”
He leans forward with interest. “What kind of pact?”
Willow looks at me, and I sigh but explain.
“When we were, like, sixteen or something, we decided that we’d never go to any parties thrown by”—I choose my next words carefully—“the popular crowd.”
“But you go to Beck’s parties.” He rotates to face me, propping his elbow on the table.
“Beck’s not really popular. Yeah, he talks to you guys at school and while you’re practicing, but at the end of the day, he’s ours.” Willow winks at him so he knows she means that lightheartedly.
Grey chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “So what makes someone popular, then? Because, this whole time, I thought I knew, but now I’m not so sure.”
“You know, I’m still trying to figure that out myself,” Willow muses as she looks down at Grey’s test. “I’ll let you know when I do.” She scans over each question he got wrong while muttering under her breath.
He turns to me. “You’re seriously never going to go to a party if it’s thrown by someone who’s considered popular, even if someone asked—no, begged you to go?”
I shrug. “I made a pact with Willow, and you can’t break a pact with your best friend. Ever. It goes against the rules of being a best friend.” I stretch out my legs underneath the table. “Besides, the last time I went to a party, the police busted it up, and my parents had to come get me.”