Page 91 of Headstrong Like Us
Maximoff knocks on her bedroom door.
“Hey, Luna,” I call. “I left my med kit in there.”
“You can come in!”
Maximoff opens the door, and glaring fluorescent light pierces my eyes. A harsh spotlight shines down on a foldout table. Where Luna lies sideways in only a white tee and green thong. She’s careful not to move.
Donnelly glances up at me, a tattoo gun in his black-gloved hand.
My first thought is,Maximoff.
Cheekbones sharp, his forest-greens are fixed on the sparkling fabrics hanging from the ceiling. Avoiding looking at his partially naked sister. “Luna.”
“Sorry, Moffy! I didn’t know you were with Farrow.”
I kick the door shut behind me.
Maximoff lowers his daggered gaze on Donnelly. “You have my sister in athongon a table in her bedroom—”
“Moffy!” Luna interjects, face bright red.
Donnelly lifts the tattoo gun higher. “It’s for a tattoo, man.”
“No shit,” I say casually as I cross the room and inspect the design.
He was in the middle of an extremely intricate galaxy tattoo that begins at her hip and cascades down the side of her ass, thigh, and stops above her knee. “Shit, this line work is insane.” His main tattoo style consists of bolder outlines. But these are perfectly straight and curved ballpoint-pen fine-lines.
He smirks. “You’re not the only one with good hands.”
“What thefuck, Donnelly?” Maximoff pins his glare everywhere but at his sister. “My dadliveshere. He eats, sleeps, and breathes in this fucking house.”
Luna groans, hands over her eyes.
“Yeah, I know.” Donnelly glances from Luna to my fiancé.
Maximoff is looking at me like I’m not registering the enormity of the situation. I am, but I’m not as hotheaded as him. Not unless he’s on the chopping block, then I’m easier to set off.
“Could be worse, wolf scout.” I grab my med bag off a star-painted trunk.
“How?”
“We could’ve walked in on them doing other shit together.”
“Noooo,” Luna says slowly. “Me and Donnelly—that was a one-time experiment.”
Donnelly elbows his slipping reading glasses up his face. I chew my gum and try to decipher his feelings, but it’s hard. He’s not really a heart-on-the-sleeve type of guy when it comes to girls.
Unpopular opinion time: I don’t hate them together.
But this is also way too fucking complicated. Which is why Maximoff is a six-foot-two G.I. Joe.
“Dad’s going to see this tattoo,” Maximoff tells his sister, his voice firm, “and he’ll know Donnelly inked it and saw you half-naked.”
“I can do what I want with my body,” Luna tells him. “Mom already said she’d calm Dad down if I got another tattoo.”
Med bag strapped on my shoulder, I come back to the door where Maximoff stands rigid, and he asks me, “How big is the tattoo?”
I’m not lying to him. “It’s a leg piece.”
