Damaged Like Us (Like Us #1)(89)

Kinney lies on Xander’s bed, flipping through the television channels. She shrugs. “Seemed easier than going to the mall to buy a present.”

You know Kinney Hale as the Princess of Goth and all things supernatural. A lot of you worship the fuck out of her, and you hope to one day be the recipient of her insults and death glares. You’ve even made video compilations of her epic eye rolls and “no bitch” face. And you wish you were part of her girl squad that includes Winona Meadows, Audrey Cobalt, and Vada Abbey.

I know her as my thirteen-year-old, tough-as-nails little sister who has a soft side that she only allows family to see. And I love the hell out of her.

Fair warning: I used to change this one’s diapers and feed her peas that she’d throw at me. You fuck with Kinney, I’ll slit your throat and then she’ll shove you to the bottom of a volcano.

Luna eyes the piercing gun in Farrow’s hands, then turns to Xander. “You’re still going to get your ear pierced, right?”

“Yeah.” Xander sits on the edge of his bed. “But Moffy’s going to do it. Not you.”

Farrow tilts his head at my brother. “How is he any better than Luna?”

“Five years older than her,” I defend myself.

“Tell me one body part you’ve ever pierced, wolf scout.”

“Burn,” Kinney says, still flipping TV channels.

“None.”

Xander rakes a hand through his bed-head hair. “Moffy is the best at everything.”

Farrow laughs hard.

“Shut the fuck up,” I tell Farrow, trying not to smile as I near him and Luna.

“I’m serious,” Xander says to Farrow, causing his laughter to fade. “Moffy’s never been below average at anything. Every time he tries something new, he’s practically a pro on the first try.”

“It’s magic,” Luna says certainly.

“He’s a demon,” Kinney says. “One of the ugly ones that live in toad holes.”

Farrow’s smile has split his face in half. Because my sister called me a toad hole demon. He finds a way to focus, and he tells them, “I can guarantee all three of you that I’m better than your brother at everything.”

They perk up.

“Very few things,” I correct.

“Some things,” Farrow amends.

“Maybe.”

His brows jump when I concede. I’d much rather Farrow, who’s experienced, pierce my siblings than me fuck it up. Still, I don’t get why we’re doing this at all.

“You seriously want to do this, Luna?” I ask. “After all the shit that your tongue piercing got you in?”

“It healed though, and I love it.” She sticks her tongue out, a lime-green ball in the center. “And if all of you get piercings, we’ll be linked in sibling solidarity. It’s something the Cobalts would do. Don’t we have that too?”

Luna stares at each of us, even Farrow, like she’s mentally grouping us together as the Hale family. A band of fucking weirdos.

We’re all smiling.

“Yeah, sis,” Xander says and then points at Farrow and the piercing gun. “I’m trusting you, man.”

“I’m not piercing you with a twelve-dollar Claire’s gun.” He turns to Luna. “You need piercing needles—”

“I bought some of those too…or really, Eliot did. His birthday gift to me.”

“Get those, rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, and an apple.” Farrow listing out random items shouldn’t be hot. My cock is obsessed with the weirdest shit.

“Got it. Be right back.” Luna darts out of the room.

“Is this gonna hurt?” Xander asks.

My brows knit. “It’s a needle. In your ear.” Of course it’s going to hurt.

“Moffy, I’m asking the guy with real piercings.”

Farrow leans on the bedpost. “Getting smarter.”

I shoot my bodyguard a middle finger.

To aggravate me, he makes a point to only acknowledge Xander. “It barely hurts.”

“Okay, good.” Xander bites his nails, a bad habit. Any physical changes to our bodies, the media hones in on—hair color, piercings, tattoos, even bruises and cat scratches. So knowing the extra attention will come, I’m kind of surprised Xander would want a piercing. It’s either out of his love for Luna or he’s hoping it’ll distract tabloids from his sudden growth spurt.

I check my watch. Mom and Dad should be home any minute.

Xander spits out his nail. “What are you getting pierced, Moffy?”

My jaw tenses. “Probably nothing.”

“I told you,” Kinney pipes up from the bed. “He’s a prude.”

Farrow pops a piece of gum, his James Franco smile at full-force right now.

“I’m not a prude,” I tell my sister who looks very similar to a gangly, round-faced Luna except for the dark hair, jet-black eyeliner, mascara and lips. “And even if I were, there’s nothing wrong with being a prude.”

Kinney clicks the remote absentmindedly. “That’s exactly what a prude would say.” Then the TV lands on a tween channel, and a familiar, catchy pop song blares.

“Shit, no!” Xander rotates on the bed to restrain Kinney who lunges towards the television.