Damaged Like Us (Like Us #1)(25)

I can’t say I’m surprised. “We’ve officially established that you think way too much about what other people are thinking.”

“I have to,” he refutes. “People judge my family every damn day, and if there’s any way I can save my siblings and cousins from harassment—then I’m taking it.”

Using the syringe, I suck up the saline solution. His parents pay people to predict headlines, soften fallouts, and obsess so he doesn’t have to. They’re called publicists, but Moffy tries to be everything for everyone.

The quality that I like the best about him may also be his worst trait. He’s too caring.

“Most likely,” I say, “your sister isn’t that worried about other people’s judgment.”

Maximoff shakes his head, skeptical.

“Do you see me?” I ask, motioning to my facial piercings. My left ear is also pierced, but I took out my earring last month for a change. And a barbell is hooked through my right nipple. “Those of us who get piercings and tattoos generally don’t give a flying shit what people think of said piercings and tattoos.”

Maximoff rests his elbow on the counter and faces me. “Generally, most people aren’t the kind of famous where internet trolls Photoshop your head on two humping rabbits.”

That happened to his mom. Not Luna.

Slowly, I put on the white latex gloves. “You should remember that your sister is used to ridicule.”

He lets this sink in for a second. Luna isn’t defenseless against cruel headlines. She has a bit of grit that her brother doesn’t take into account.

“And realistically”—I snap my last glove up to my wrist—“she could’ve picked a tongue piercing with oral in mind.”

He grimaces. “No.”

“Little sisters can like giving blow jobs,” I say and laugh as his scowl appears.

“Because you have so many little sisters.” He knows that I have zero little sisters, zero brothers, and one much older stepsister. Sibling relationships are uncharted territory for me, but I like seeing his and how much they all mean to each other.

It’s endearing.

Maximoff leans closer and lowers his voice. “As far as I know, she’s never been kissed.” He pauses, thinking. “Wouldn’t the security team know if she’s been with anyone?”

“Epsilon would know,” I correct, “and if I radioed them to ask, they’d tell me to fuck off.” I’m not interested in Luna’s sexual history enough to extend an olive branch to SFE. On the list of important things, it’s very, very low.

While Moffy contemplates this, I shout, “Luna!”

Spider-Man mask now off, Luna waves and trudges into the small kitchen, and Maximoff jumps on the counter by the toaster. Sitting up high so she has room to stand next to me. Her features are a mix of her mom and dad: soft round face, amber eyes, and long light-brown hair.

Luna slurs a little as she says, “If I die from this, please tell the world that I got into a fight with a space alien and the alien won.”

Maximoff says certainly, “You’re not dying, sis.”

She takes a deep, relieved inhale, happy about being alive.

I hand her the cup with mouthwash and saline solution mix. “Swish and spit.”

Luna swishes and winces, and she tries to say dammit with a mouthful of salt water. Saliva drips down her chin. I guide her to the sink.

“Spit.”

She does, and bloody salt water hits the metal sink basin. “That stings so badly,” she breathes, clutching the edge of the sink.

“It’s happening again,” I warn her. “Stick your tongue out.”

Luna winces already. “Right now?” She wipes her forehead with her arm, her cheeks beet-red. I need to take her temperature.

Maximoff glares. “You plan on going somewhere, Luna? What else are we doing?”

“Jane promised a movie night, and we could always watch the movie, then come back.” She shimmies her shoulders awkwardly. “Yeah?” She gives me a thumbs-up.

“Stick your tongue out,” I say.

Luna frowns. “Moffy is supposed to be the hardass.”

I roll my eyes. “I was a hardass first, and then he copied me.”

Maximoff interjects, “Sounds like fan fiction.”

“Man, I was born before your parents even officially started dating.” I give him a look. “Five years older, ten times smarter.”

He shoots me a middle finger.

I smile and focus on his sister. “Luna.”

She reluctantly extends her tongue. Red streaks run from the silver ball to the tip of her tongue, a little swollen. At least she bought an actual barbell. I leave the jewelry in place to avoid an infection closing inside the wound.

Luna leans slightly over the sink, and I use the syringe to wash near the piercing, places that just swishing wouldn’t reach. When I finish, she spits into the sink again.

“Done?” she asks.

“Not yet.” I dunk a cotton ball in saline solution. “Hold this against your tongue.” She looks ashen, and her forehead glistens with a sheen of sweat. While I stick an ear thermometer in her right ear, I go over shit that I know.

“No kissing or oral sex until the infection is clear.”

She nods, but her brother cuts in, “Have you been kissed before?” No one said Maximoff Hale isn’t just as blunt as me.