Page 76 of Unlucky Like Us
@rise-of-the-seasons:His days are numbered. No way is he staying a bodyguard after this. Prob for the best tbh
@moomoopants242:Banks & Akara should be fired for ruining Sulli long before Donnelly is considered getting axed, come on. Stupid af
@Iluvcharliecobalt:Just happy it’s not Thatcher feuding with Connor. My heart couldn’t take that.
@MarrowIsLife:u think Farrow is the reason Donnelly is still around? Aren’t they friends? I hope Loren doesn’t hate Farrow by proxy too.
@AvengeMe17:Good riddance! Can’t wait to see someone Loren LIKES be Xander’s bodyguard. Fuck Paul Donnelly.
15
LUNA HALE
“Shitshit,”I say quickly as my phone slips out of my hands like a wet fish. It drops in the dark crevice of the security vehicle—the space between the passenger’s seat and the middle console, which is typically a graveyard of fast-food crumbs and old receipts.
At least, my car is crumby. Omega’s SUV is pristine with vacuumed floor mats and a strong scent of men’s cologne.
I unbuckle to try to dig into the crevice.
Donnelly is behind the wheel. He’s not reprimanding me like most bodyguards would—and it’s been kinda clear he’s driving me as a bodyguard, not just as a friend, since we left the Calloway Couture headquarters.
It’s rare that he’s ever assigned to my detail.
So Donnelly as my bodyguard feels odd. I don’t like questioning whether he’s here for a job or because he’s my natural, tried and true friend who still has feelings for me.
While I try to stick my hand in the narrow crevice and reach down, his eyes dart over to me more than a few times, seeing my struggle.
“I’ve gotta get gas,” he says. “We can fish out your phone at the Sunoco.”
Sounds smarter. I wedge my hand out and fall back into my seat. “This is what I get for looking at Fanaticon.” I mutter, “Like I didn’t regret checking the reactions to the article enough. My phone has abandoned me too.”
“Maybe you just have slippery hands. Lemme see.” He reaches for my palm, and I start to smile as I let him hold my hand while he drives.
Really, we press fingertips to fingertips, and slowly, his fingertips glide down my palm with featherlight affectionate touch. It’s electric, tingling my veins, and my breath catches in the quiet.
“Verdict?” I ask.
“More soft than slippery. Your phone definitely fucked you.”
“Knew it.” Neither of us pulls away too fast, but I do the good thing, the right thing, and retract my hand. “You really think it’s possible to outrun curses and bad luck?” On Halloween, after he confessed he coined theHale cursephrase, he told me that it was.
“Yeah,” he nods. “I’m not gonna let it catch us.”
I breathe in his hope.
He adds, “And so you know, I don’t care what they say about me online. People like to speculate and shit. It’s what they do.” He picks up his Lightning Bolt! energy drink from the cup holder. “Sometimes I do it too.” He takes a swig.
Dark circles shadow his blue eyes, like he’s slept poorly, and despite fatigue and the outings with his dad and the article, he’s still so…light. Not necessarily weightless, but more soluminous.
It reminds me ofStar Wars, but I don’t mention it as we roll into the gas station. Donnelly parks at a vacant pump, and once the car is off, I hop out of the passenger side. He’s already swiveling off the gas cap and sticking the nozzle in the hole.
We left Tom and Eliot sort of abruptly at their mom’s fashion headquarters since the seamstress needed the room. I said a quick goodbye to them and promised I’d catch them up on the details of how I fell for Donnelly. The start of it all.
They texted soon afterwards.
ELIOT
Since you’re just friends at the moment with Donnelly, I propose that the friendship trio become a quartet.