She’s not wrong. I uncap the bottle.
Luna lounges on the bottom bunk. She squirts three bottles of the creamy green facemask in a large bowl. “I dunno,” she says. “I kind of like thinking everything is a sign. It’s a reminder that we’re not alone.” Luna also tells us that she’s been taking online classes at Penn on extraterrestrial life in the universe.
Sulli adds, “All I’m saying is that we go with the hard-earned facts. And fact is everyone in this room is fucking awesome. Including you.” She looks straight at me.
I slide on a cloth headband above my hairline to avoid avocado hair. “Thank you,” I say. “I needed to hear that today.” I look between them.
They’re not much younger than me, but in a completely different place in their lives. They can figure things out. Take some time off. But I’ve already done that.
I’m heading into my mid-twenties and it feels like the clock has officially run down. That I should have my shit together by now. Thank God, I’m still on the Cobalt social media blackout. I can’t look online at the tweets or comments on Instagram. I’m sure the majority of them are reaffirming what they already believed.
That I am a complete disappointment. And how could I be the eldest child of Rose and Connor Cobalt?
“Luna, what’s your theory on body-snatching?” I ask.
Sulli gives me a look like no fucking way have you been body-snatched. Luna now squirts body glitter into her bowl. “Body-snatching is not impossible. I once thought I had this out-of-body experience one summer. But I think I was just huffing too much glue.”
Sulli and I look at her.
“Please tell me my brothers didn’t put you up to that,” I say.
“All I’ll say is that it was the summer of a lot of stupid shit, not all I would repeat, and Tom, Eliot, and I have officially dubbed it the Stoopid Summer. Stoopid with two O’s.”
They have a name for a summer. I shouldn’t be surprised.
“And speaking of summer,” Sulli says, a smile burgeoning on her face as she glances to Luna. Like they’re in on something. Can’t be surprised about that either. They do share a room together. They’re practically college dormmates.
I rub the avocado cream on my face and pass the bottle to Sulli.
Luna sheds her shirt and pants, only in a pair of underwear and a bra. She starts lathering her avocado cream-glitter mixture all over her belly. “You know how Moffy will offhandedly mention that Farrow says he smells like summer? Like all the time.”
Yes, Maximoff will do that frequently. Almost like he doesn’t even know he’s speaking out loud.
“Oui.”
Sulli swipes two green stripes underneath her eyes like warpaint. “And then we overheard Thatcher saying you smell like spring. I wasn’t fucking eavesdropping or anything—”
“I was.” Luna raises a green glitter hand.
My heart thumps hard in my chest. Please tell me they didn’t hear anything else.
“Your door was cracked open,” Luna explains.
Thank God.
Relief washes over me. Thatcher and I most definitely always closed and locked the door when we had sex. Very little chance of being overheard.
Luna rubs the green glitter on her legs, about to completely cover herself in the avocado mask.
I try to follow their logic. “So Maximoff smells like summer. I smell like spring.” Where is this going?
Sulli nods. “And Farrow has white fucking hair. And Thatcher always wears those plaid flannels like he’s about to chop some wood in the forest.”
Uh-oh.
Luna beams. “Farrow is winter. Thatcher is fall. Which makes the four of you the Seasons. ” She claps her hands accidently. “You have your own friendship name. We do our best.” She pounds a fist with Sulli.
“The Seasons,” I say with a smile.
“And the best part of it,” Sulli says. “Is that the media doesn’t know about it, so they can’t ruin a good thing like they always do.”
Luna and I share a look this time. Sulli blames the media for picking up the story about Beckett’s texts so quickly.
It spread like wildfire and made it harder for security to remove them. And even with the girl breaking her NDA, all she did was pay a fine. Beckett shouldered most of the consequences. Now he doesn’t text anyone. Not even me. He’ll only call or FaceTime.
A knock suddenly raps on the door.
“Jane.” Thatcher’s deep voice is a bit muffled outside. “My mom wants to know if you prefer white or red pasta sauce.”
I’m meeting his family in a couple days.
Security surprisingly approved the outing. Thatcher isn’t sure why they would, and I know it’s put him on edge.
I want to make a good impression with his family. I’m nervous that I’ll fail at this too. I’ve never had to do this before, and I can’t ask Moffy for advice.
Farrow doesn’t have much of a family. So Moffy didn’t really “meet the parents” in the traditional sense.
I speak to the door. “I like both sauces.”
“Say again?” He can’t hear me through the wood.
“You can come in!” Sulli calls out to him.
He cracks the door. Catching sight of my green face, he opens it wider. He steps in, and then spots Luna in her underwear—swiftly, he rotates. “Sorry.” His eyes are on me, back to her. “I thought everyone was decent.”
“We are very decent,” Luna says. “I’m basically in a bikini. Plus…I’m posting it on Instagram anyway.” I watch as she holds up the phone and snaps a picture. “Sulli.” She hands the phone to her so she can help take a wide shot.
I don’t want to be in the room when her dad sees that photo online.
He might have a stroke.
Hopefully Aunt Lily is with him. She always knows what to say to calm Uncle Lo.
I focus on Thatcher and his earlier question. “I like both,” I say. “Can you tell your mom that whatever she wants is perfect? I, um…” My tongue is caught because he’s staring at me more intensely. “…you.”
I shut my mouth, inhaling a deeper breath.
Thatcher nods and eyes my facemask, not looking below my neck. He casts a furtive glance at my cousins.
They can’t know we’re intimate.
Yet, how much time do we even have left?
“Heyhey, Thatcher,” Luna says. “You should stay.”
“Yeah,” Sulli agrees. “Why don’t you join the facemask party?
Luna nods. “Yeah yeah, Insta Live it for the fake dating thing.”
He can’t see my cousins. But they are both grinning like they’ve discovered fairy dust and fountains of eternal youth. Between this and the Seasons name, I’m beginning to think Sul and Luna are like two impish pixies.
I’m all here for it. Sitting straighter, a smile tugging my cheeks. Seeing Thatcher in a green facemask is something I didn’t know I needed until right now.
“Do you want to?” I ask Thatcher.
He stares at me and nods. But he still adds, “If you think it’ll help with the fake dating op.” It’s a cursory statement. Like he knows he has to say it in front of my cousins. I do believe he’d want to do this with me regardless of the fake dating ruse.
Like drinking whiskey in the garage.
“It should help.” I grab the bottle of facemask, and Thatcher sits down on an alien beanbag.
“I’ll film,” Luna says, using her phone and Instagram account since mine is still deactivated.
I straddle Thatcher’s lap. It’s easiest instead of bending down. His hands fall to my hips, easy and comfortable. Yet tension winds between us. Like we’re both caging our breaths.
There are two factors at play.
One: our Instagram viewers think this is real.
Two: Sulli and Luna think this is all fake.
I know this is real. Every touch has been real since we had sex at the B&B. I’m certain of that. But as we get closer and closer to Halloween, the end is near. I wish I could just…push it out of my mind.
But it’s there.
Present. Like the worst kind of ticking clock.