The Accomplice(17)

“Yes. No. You should do what you want to do,” Luna said.

Luna felt a medley of uncomfortable emotions, including annoyance and jealousy. She was disappointed in herself for feeling hostile toward Scarlet. To compensate, she offered another, more specific piece of advice.

“If you sleep with him again, make sure you leave first.”

Over the next two months, Scarlet repeatedly came to Luna seeking counsel. She’d listen to Luna for a while and follow her advice to a T. Then she’d get comfortable, thinking that her relationship with Owen had finally found its footing, and slip up. Luna eventually gave up and told Scarlet to listen to her gut, just be herself. That was a good rule of thumb in general, but it wasn’t going to improve matters with Owen. Scarlet’s surprise visits to Owen’s dorm had increased in frequency. Her availability, as far as Owen was concerned, was limitless. Owen spent more time than usual at the library or in a local café just so he wouldn’t be home for Scarlet’s increasingly common drop-ins.



* * *



—

With a week left before winter break, Owen hoped to limit his Scarlet interactions. His dorm was no longer a safe place, and he’d grown tired of the unforgiving chairs in the library. Owen waited for Luna as she filed out of the Walter Hughes Humanities Building. Luna had just taken her Ethics exam, her brain still in the classroom. She didn’t even see Owen until he was standing right in front of her.

“What are you up to now?” Owen asked.

Luna didn’t want to answer the question. She glanced at her watch, just to buy time. “I got a thing,” she said.

“What kind of thing?” Owen said.

Luna should have known better than to offer a vague answer. Owen could never rest on an ambiguity.

“What is it with you and specifics?” Luna said. “I have an appointment. I’ll be gone for a few hours.”

Normally Owen would have kept pressing for details, but he had other priorities. “Can I borrow your room key?” he asked.

“Why?”

“I’m tired. I really need to take a nap,” Owen said.

“Who’s stopping you?” Luna said.

“Scarlet always drops by in the afternoon, and I need some me time.”

“Did you really just say that?”

“I did,” Owen replied, turning up his palm, waiting.

“You’ve been seeing Scarlet for how long now?”

“We’re not seeing each other,” Owen said. “It’s very casual.”

“Here’s the problem with having occasional sex with a woman for over two months,” Luna said. “She starts to think you like her, because it’s very unlikely that she would repeatedly hook up with someone that she doesn’t like. Now that you have that information, maybe you’ll think before you fuck.”

“I appreciate that insight,” Owen said. “Can you help me out?”

Luna was trying to figure out the best way to say no, but Owen pressed on. He was desperate.

“Luna, I just want to be alone. I don’t want to talk about meaningful things. You more than anyone should understand that.”

Luna took in a big breath and let an absurdly long sigh.

“Is there a problem?” Owen asked.

“I don’t like people in my space when I’m not there.”

Owen tried to recall if he knew this about her. Had he ever been alone in her room? He knew she was anti-snooping, but those were different things, right?

“I’m just going to rest in your bed, on top of your covers.”

Luna was aware that denying the request might appear suspicious, so she reluctantly handed over her keys. “Take off your shoes and don’t touch anything.”

“You’re the best,” Owen said, kissing her on the forehead.

As Luna watched Owen jog back to the dorm, her gut twisted into a tight knot.



* * *



—

Owen had fully intended to nap. He removed his shoes and lay on top of Luna’s duvet. He closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would come. It did not. He sat upright and decided to study. He fished through his backpack for his French book and sat on the floor, translating a short passage about a trip to Greece. When his pen ran out of ink, he opened the drawers in Luna’s desk. He knew very well that he was searching for more than a pen, but in some part of his brain, he could still insist on the innocence of his trespass.

In the bottom drawer, Owen found an old Adidas shoebox. After checking that Luna’s door was locked, he removed the box from the drawer. He knelt on the floor next to the desk and opened the lid. Inside were a baggie of weed and a pipe. Owen returned the box to the drawer. After that, he fully committed to his search.

Owen understood that breaching Luna’s privacy was the kind of transgression she was unlikely to forgive. He could only manage one flimsy rationalization for his behavior, which was decidedly out of character: He told himself that he was worried for Luna’s safety. That was true, to a certain extent. But that wasn’t all of it. Owen knew that something had happened in Luna’s past. If he knew what it was, it might explain why she’d never told him.

Owen stood on a chair and rummaged through everything on the top shelf of her closet. He checked between the mattress and box spring. He peered under the bed and found two dusty pieces of luggage. Inside the smaller suitcase was an old cigar box that held about a half dozen letters, sent to Luna at a Colorado address.