Misfits Like Us (Like Us #11)(65)

Luna eyes the tail of a scorpion inked in line with my waist. She’s grinning. “You tattooed your dick?”

“It’s not on my dick. Above.”

She keeps smiling. “I wish you could tattoo me again,” she admits.

Me too. A question pushes at me. The night I sleepwalked into the kitchen and made a pretzel house, I thought more about Farrow’s offer of the guest room. I don’t want to scare the rookies of SFO with another episode like that.

And if I’m closer to Luna, maybe I’ll stop sleepwalking altogether.

“Would you be okay with me moving into the penthouse’s guest room?” I ask Luna on the beer-spilt floor of a nightclub, shirtless. “If it’s something that’d make you uncomfortable, I won’t do it.”

Surprise has jumped her brows, but something bright touches her eyes, and I watch her lips lift higher. “Uh-huh, I’m okay with it.” I can’t tell if she’s flushed in the club’s green light. “Orion will be too. He loves you.”

I’m on a high, and I’m about to respond when Korey steps over my foot. With three beer bottles in hand and a cup of vodka Fizz, he towers above us, and Luna freezes.

He chokes on an ill-humored noise. “Slut.” His hand begins to tilt, and without pause, I slide over Luna’s body while he dumps the vodka Fizz onto my back instead of her chest.

I can’t see him. I’m just staring at her wide, frightened eyes.

“We should get out—”

“Donnelly!” Luna screams just as a bottle is smashed against the back of my head. Pain searing.

All hell breaks loose behind me, and I’m not thinking about retaliation. I’m just picking Luna up in my arms as I stand.

“Donnelly, Donnelly.” She’s scared. I hate that she’s scared. It’s just a club fight.

“Watch your feet!” Maximoff yells at Eliot and Tom, maybe. “Luna?!”

“Motherfucker!” Farrow is yelling.

Oscar is yelling. I catch one glimpse of my friends in fistfights with more than just Korey. The club has become a mosh pit of knuckles and sucker-punches. A fight I’d be joining, but I want to help Luna out of here.

“I have her,” Frog takes Luna’s hand. “Go.”

“He’s bleeding,” Luna says.

“Out, out!” Jack shouts, trying to usher Joana away from the mess. “Come on, Jo, please. For me.”

“I literally just knocked a girl unconscious tonight. I can help.”

“Violence isn’t how everything is solved,” he starts when she darts off. “JO! OSCAR, YOUR SISTER!”

“Stay by the amps,” I tell Frog and Luna.

“You’re bleed—” Luna’s voice fades as I push through the crowds. Decking, swinging, and I drag Joana away from two hefty-set men three-times her size as they come at her.

Farrow sees. “HEY!”

Guy turns, Farrow decks him.

Oscar races forward and takes care of the second guy.

Maximoff nails someone who tries to push Eliot, all before Vance Wreath, the SFE bodyguard, registers what’s happened.

“Time to go,” Farrow says swiftly, passing me to reach his husband.

I’m slipping through just as quickly, and I find Luna where I left her. Frog is waiting tensely, and I motion with my head. “Run.”

We’re all running out.

Up the stairs.

“Hey, hey!” a manager shouts at our group. “Names—all of you.”

No one slows. I’m holding Luna’s hand, pretending we came here together. I pretend we’re leaving together, too.

“HEY!” The manager tosses his hands exasperatedly.

On our way out, the bouncer at the entrance just nods to Jack like he knows him. Oscar makes prayer hands at his husband. “I love you.”

We’re all laughing, and as we head to the parked cars on the curb, ignoring a few camera flashes from paparazzi, pain catches up to me.

“Farrow, he’s bleeding,” Luna calls up to my friend.

He spins around, eyes cast on me. “Your head?”

“Barely hurts.”

Farrow slows and checks the back of my head without touching. “Shit.”

Luna goes pale. “Is he okay?”

“Dr. Hale, am I dying?” I joke with a grin.

She’s not laughing. I’ve never had a girl care that much about my well-being, honestly. And this isn’t the first time I’ve been hit with a beer bottle.

“He needs stitches,” Farrow determines. “I’ll clean it back at the house.” We’re both watching the entrance to The Green Room as more people leave the club. We all parked close, and we’re trying to run away from a bigger brawl, not take one to the streets.

“We gotta go,” I say.

“No shit.” He calls his husband over. “Wolf scout! Can you get the med kit in the back?”

“Yeah.” He eyes Luna.

“It’s Donnelly. I just want to stop the bleeding while we’re in the car.”

“Luna!” Tom calls, holding out her motorcycle helmet.

Is she leaving with him? My pulse pounds heavier. The night is on fast-forward when I wish I could press pause.

Moffy asks Tom how much he’s had to drink.