Page 27 of Lucky Strike

He said nothing in response but pointed to his paint-smeared jawline as if this was all the explanation required. Luna had started everything. He tried his best to avoid being drawn into her provocations. Every interaction felt the same as verbal clickbait. Before her, he preferred keeping his head down and moving through his day without causing trouble for anyone. He was done being the brash, smartass version of himself—at least, he’d thought he was. Except, Luna had a way of revitalizing it, like a zombie version of Past Sam. Every time she pushed, he couldn’t stop himself from pushing back.

“You dropped the paintbrush on yourself and then on poor Luna?” Zabe asked.

He opened his mouth to correct her, but Luna responded first. “Yup. That’s exactly what happened. Who knew he was so clumsy, right?”

“Oh, Sam is always getting hurt doing this stuff. In fact, just last week—”

“Okay, I don’t think we need to get into all that,” he said. He missed the blissful half hour of total silence he’d had. That was actually relaxing. This was not. He didn’t want to spend another weekend in close proximity with Luna. It was dangerous to his self-control, which already felt as threadbare as his painting clothes. Sam had no choice but to get the cabinets done today, no matter how long it took.

The kid bounced on her heels, full of excitement. “But I’m not clumsy. I’m really good. I can help, right?”

“Does your dad know you’re up here?” he asked.

“He’s still sleeping. He had to work a double shift at the hospital yesterday.” She grinned at Luna. “He’s a nurse, so that means he helps save people’s lives. He doesn’t have a girlfriend. Do you like nurses?”

“What happened to Bethany?” Not that Sam cared about Jason’s love life. The petite redhead had seemed nice, although perhaps she didn’t give Zabe enough attention. Other than that, she was perfectly fine for Jason. The tenant downstairs wouldn’t appreciate his kid trying to set him up with random people in the apartment complex. Besides, Luna didn’t have red hair. Sure, the strands on her head were a glossy, rich tapestry of luxurious mahogany, but this still had to put her in the category ofnot Jason’s type. Again, not that Sam cared.

Zabe gave a casual shrug. “I don’t know. Dad just said Bethany was moving on. I didn’t really like her. One time I came home early from hanging out at my friend Noel’s house and she was—”

“I’m sure your dad doesn’t want you gossiping about his love life.”

“If I had something to do, I probably wouldn’t talk so much.”

“You can help me,” Luna said. “We don’t have any extra brushes but you can hold my paint cup for me and keep me company since Sam doesn’t like talking with me.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. He thinks I’m annoying or something.”

Sam shook his head as he continued his task. That was one way to describe Luna. Annoying, stubborn, fussy, lovely, and—Lovely? Wait…he meantlousy. Yes, lousy was more accurate.

“Can I tell you about Bethany?”

“Zabe,” Sam warned with a sigh.

He caught Luna bringing a finger to her pursed lips. Zabe squeezed her hands to her mouth and attempted to suppress a squeak. Sam spent the following hour switching between painting and rolling his eyes as Luna and Zabe stage-whispered gossip to each other, but at least they were managing to leave him alone and he could focus. The faster he finished, the sooner he could leave.

“Do you think you can help me fix up my room?” Zabe asked Luna at one point. “My dad is always too tired to help me.”

“What about your mom?”

The girl shrugged. Sam didn’t know the whole story but he did know her mom wasn’t in the picture anymore. “She lives somewhere else.”

Luna immediately set her painting stuff aside and broke out her phone. “We can create a board of what you like. Do you have a favorite color? Of course you do. Who doesn’t have a favorite color?”

Sam for one. However, he suddenly found himself drawn to colors like peacock blue these days. He should have said something to discourage any more renovations, especially when it was spreading into other apartments, but he didn’t have the heart, not when both Zabe and Luna were energized by this topic. The brightness of the moment glittered with their excitement and joy. For once, he’d rather wrap himself up in it for a little while instead of squashing it.

“I like the name Zabe. Is that your birth name?” Luna asked.

“Elizabeth. I like Zabe better. Do you have a nickname?”

“I was raised by my grandfather who used to call me Lulu, but he died several years ago and it…kind of makes me miss him so I’d rather go by my real name: Luna. Although, if I’d known I’d be living in an apartment building with a dog also named Luna, I might have gone with my middle name Rose. Let me tell you there’s nothing worse than listening to your neighbor yell,Come on, Luna. Go potty, Luna.”

The girl cackled at this, and he couldn’t resist smiling as well.

“Do you have a nickname, Sam?” Zabe asked, drawing him into their private club.

“Sam is my nickname. It’s short for—”

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