Misfits Like Us (Like Us #11)(18)

I want to say that I’ve never been in love, but I’ve never admitted that out loud to anyone. I’ve never admitted that I have been in love either.

Sometimes, I picture myself with my fingers pressed to glass. Unable to touch the kind of love that exists within the things I so clearly watch and see. The romantic bits in my sci-fi fics and the star-crossed love on Battlestar Galactica and Roswell. I’m a voyeur to love. To soul mates.

I used to think mine might not exist.

Now, I’m more worried mine is out there and no matter what I do, I’m always unable to reach him. He’s always going to be stuck on the other side of the glass.

An image of Paul Donnelly swims slowly into my brain. I see him and hear him. “As long as you’re letting me stay,” he said before coming towards me with the beginning of a grin.

Two years ago, I let him stay in my room and give me the most epic head. He left on good terms.

We became friends.

The kinda friends who text a little here and there. The kinda friends who gravitate towards each other when we’re at a bar with others.

Not the kind of friends who do things alone together. Not outside of the galaxy tattoo he ended up inking on my leg.

It’s better this way. I think of my dad, and I know it is.

“Luna?” Eliot calls loudly and seizes my gaze.

I speak before he asks what I was thinking. “What’s your non-scheme-y plan in the name of love?”

“We can title this plan: Pure Intentions.” He motions outward like the title is on a marquee. “Firstly, Tom’s secret crush is probably someone who’s completely unattainable.”

I can’t disagree with Eliot. Tom crushed on Farrow Keene, who is now very much—and very proudly—a Hale. And when we were younger, Tom would crush on the cute lifeguard (way older than him) or even the Cobalts’ chef (again, very unlikely to happen). So it’s highly possible his new secret crush is again not a viable option for him.

“Tom isn’t living in the clouds,” I say while tugging at the itchy neck of my Spider-Man suit. “He knows these crushes go nowhere because he never actually pursues them.”

“Exactly. He’s turning into Audrey 2.0—and while my little sister is adorable, she is to never be replicated in this context. We aren’t fifteen. We aren’t teenagers any longer. Tom taking a page out of Audrey Virginia Cobalt’s textbook is verging on a romantic tragedy of tragic levels.” He motions between us. “You and I—we need to divert his attention to a crush that will end up somewhere.”

I start to connect the dots, just as Eliot blurts out, “I’m going to set him up with Cody Lancaster.”

Lancaster. That name is kinda close to Lannister—the villains in Game of Thrones. Xander would say this setup is already doomed.

“Cody Lancaster,” I say the name hoping it will trigger a memory. I don’t know if I’ve met this Cody person.

“He’s the pianist at the Sun & Thorn.” Eliot opens and closes a Zippo lighter absentmindedly. “He told me outright he thinks Tom is hot, and Cody had a short modeling stint for Aloriam’s cologne. Only the hottest for my dear brother.”

“Aloriam,” I repeat with crinkled brows. “Isn’t that the luxury fragrance brand that Ben hates for not being cruelty-free?”

“A short modeling stint,” Eliot emphasizes, his face reddening. He sighs. “Ben isn’t even here to be upset that I’m mentioning Aloriam. You’re more likely to see my little brother these days than I am.” Hurt flashes through his face.

Ben is a freshman at the University of Pennsylvania in Philly, an Ivy League where I’m also picking up college courses. He had the option to move to New York and be with his brothers, but he turned them down. I know the rejection still stings for Eliot and Tom, who believe they’re trying their best to pull him into the folds.

From Ben’s perspective, I think he still feels oceans away from all four of his brothers, no matter what they do.

“Tom will like Cody,” Eliot returns to the setup. “…I think.”

He thinks.

I blow out a breath and focus on my computer. “You’re on your own with that one, Alice. I’m not sure I’ll add anything to your Pure Intentions.”

“On the contrary,” Eliot refutes, flame in his hand. “You and I have important parts to play. We need him to think he’s attending a friendly get-together, but when he realizes it’s a triple date—he’ll immediately fall into Cody’s arms.” He clicks the lighter closed.

My fingers hover over the keyboard. “Triple date?” Oh no.

“Brilliant, right?” He grins. “The idea came to me after you mentioned Moffy’s triple date.”

Greeeaaat. So this is my doing. Moffy offhandedly told me that he’s going on a triple date with Farrow and Farrow’s two closest friends. Which include Oscar (with Jack) and Donnelly (with whoever Donnelly decides to bring). Apparently that last part is still up in the air.

I try not to think about it.

I can’t.

Instead, I concentrate on the current subject at hand. “You want me to be a part of this triple date?”

My stomach knots. I don’t bring my hookups places. I usually go to them. Hang out at clubs. It’s easier that way.