Nobody Like Us (Like Us #13)

by Krista Ritchie

“Is it important?” I ask Mr. Wagner. “It’s kinda cold.” “Do you think the role of CEO is important?” Mr. Wagner shoots back. Okaaaay… “Yes.” “Then yes.” Uncle Stokes gives him a half-warning look, but it’s feeble. My dad’s would be lethal.

I grip the bottom of my sweater but stop myself. “This is more appropriate than what’s beneath.” “The sweater,” he snaps.

“She’s trying to tell you no while being polite about it,” Ben cuts in, and my head swings backward, surprised that he was the first to say something. He’s visibly pissed. “What’s ...

“What’s the point of taking her sweater?” Eliot asks Mr. Wagner too. “You didn’t ask for my suit jacket.” “He must be a perv,” Ch...

“What reason would he have to see under her sweater?” Charlie retorts with less fire than Ben and Eliot. “Give me one.”

“We’re at a mock press conference. A publicist would ask Luna to take off her sweater before she confronted a single camera. She can’t wear anything with that word on it.” Weirdo? “Being a weirdo isn’t a bad thing,” I end up saying. Ms. Kapoor smiles, and yes, it’s a pity smile, but at least I’m winning someone over.

“Mock press conference,” Charlie emphasizes. “It’s pretend. Don’t tell me in a real scenario someone wouldn’t have a jacket on hand for her. And in that real scenario, you wouldn’t see under her sweater.” “You’ve made your point,” Mr. Wagner glares. To shut down this topic, I jump in, “I’m keeping my sweater on, thank you.”

“I’ll do as I’m told like an obedient son, but you?” He drums the table, staring Ben down. “Your soul is so fragile and delicate. You think it’ll even survive a week in a corporate blender?” Ben addresses the board, “What Charlie is implying is that he’s soulless.” “I have no soul to take,” Charlie agrees. “Perfect for corporate bargaining.” He spins back to the board and spreads his arms like choose me.

Eliot puts a hand over his own mouth, trying to be quiet—or maybe he’s hiding how distraught he actually feels. All Eliot has ever wanted is for his brothers and sisters to be as thick-as-thieves, but Ben is the outlier. The odd peg that doesn’t always fit into the Cobalt Empire mold. The black sheep among lions.

“What’s your unbiased opinion?” she asks again, since I told her she was the mock panel winner in my eyes. I dip my head to whisper against her ear. “I’m always gonna be partial towards you, babe.”

We’ve been roleplaying most of the night, and she said she drank something to where she needs human touch for 24-hours to survive. Skin-to-skin contact. If I stop touching her, she dies. It’s why we’re showering together. I’m attracted to Luna alone, but add in these weird scenarios, and she might as well be smothered in pheromones that I can’t escape. I’m starving for her.

And I whisper against her ear, “I’m the only one who can keep you alive, yeah?” She moans out an uh-huh. “You’re dreaming about my cock, aren’t you?” Luna struggles to jerk me off, hypnotized by my words, by the way I thread my leg between her thighs and break them apart. “You want me buried inside you?” I cling to her pleasured gaze, and those eyes—her eyes—might as well be fisting me with hotter friction than what her hand is creating. “You want to feel every inch of me in your tight, wet pussy so you can survive the night?” My lips brush her ear. “You want me to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before?” “Without restraint,” she murmurs. “Fuck me without restraint.”

I keep talking to her. “You want me to come inside you? Make you mine?” She’s nodding into another moan. “You want me to rock so deep and hard and rough? That no one but me will ever feel your pussy again?” “Please,” she begs.

“I really, really like Dr. Frisk,” Luna says. “We spent fifteen minutes just talking about our tattoos. She has an aardvark with a bifocal on her arm.”

“I’m sure that the next time I’m naked in a shower with you, I will fuck you in there, Luna,” I tell her. “Very sure about that.” Her lips part. “Glad we nailed that down.” “Jesus wasn’t the only carpenter,” I say. Her smile hits her amber eyes. “You’re a carpenter with magical hands,” she tells me. “Keeping me alive is so very thoughtful of you.” “Would never let you die.”

She releases the sexiest breath, like I just entered her. She clutches the bathrobe at her thighs, and I harden again. Especially as she says, “If I need it, we’ll have to do it immediately and in weird public places.” Fucking in weird public places—that has my name written all over it. Hers, not so much. She’s famous, but I think I can manage this without anyone seeing. “Public bathrooms, private planes, the back of a car, then we’ll get weirder,” I say. “I’ve got your needs covered, girl.”

“I love you, you know that?” “Yes.” Her eyes well. “I love you too, do you know…that?” She blinks, her gaze drifting beyond me, as though she’s thinking hard about something. Her brows pleat, and her lips fall farther open. My face drops. “Luna?”

“You…told me…to stay…in the…car.” He blows back. His eyes become haunted, and he’s shaking his head over and over. And I know, I know this is the last thing he wanted me to remember. He wanted to shield me from it. Protect me. But he could never protect me from what’s inside my head. The night I was attacked. I remember it. All of it.

After the mock panel, the rankings are as follows: Charlie Keating Cobalt Xander Hale Eliot Alice Cobalt Ben Pirrip Cobalt Luna Hale

you’ve got to be kidding me 🤦🏼‍♀️

“There aren’t any alarms. It’s quiet and peaceful in our spacecraft, and the lights—they’re shades of purple.” “And pink,” Donnelly says. “You’re bathed in pink.” “And green,” I smile with him. “They’re the kind of colors you’d see at a club on Thebula.” Donnelly grins into a laugh. “Turning an emergency into a dance floor. I love us.”

Us. There is an official us now. A Donnelly and a Luna bound together. It’s not a sad us. It’s a vibrant, grinning, buoyant us, ascending higher and higher. I haven’t thought much about where we’ll land. Staying on this voyage with Donnelly matters more to me. “I love us too,” I tell him, just as our phones ping.

We check the texts from my bodyguard. Frog has sent a few photos of us on the fountain. Where we’re smiling at each other. Where Donnelly has his hands on my head and stares affectionately into my eyes. Snowy Philadelphia, the stars, and fountain are perfectly framed in the background. It looks like a Philly love story. It’s beyond beautiful. “Sorry!” Frog calls out. “I’m preserving the moment! Not trying to ruin it! Shit,” she curses to Quinn. Then shouts to us, “Continue as you were! Make out! Kiss. Do ...

“No one knows what triggers her memories or why that one came first. Even Redford doesn’t have that answer. So stop thinking you own a crystal ball or that you’re a death knell for Luna. You’re not that. For anyone. Legitimately. You’ve only ever been a harbinger of life.”

“You saying I’m a good omen or what?” I asked quietly. I thought he’d rib me, but he was serious as he said, “That’s exactly what I’m saying. You’re the precursor for good things to come, Donnelly. I’ve known you for over a decade, and you don’t bring harm or toxicity to the party.” He kept going. “You won’t let anything drag you down. Not your family, not a shitty situation, not a drunk fuck at a bar, and not yourself. And don’t blame yourself now, bro. I highly doubt Luna would want that.”

“Finished,” I say, relinquishing her leg. “Really?” She sits up and tucks her knee to her chest to get a closer look. Her smile is instant when she examines the fresh ink. It’s a pinky promise between a feminine alien and a masculine human—just their hands. One is shaded a vibrant lilac purple, and the other is grayscale. I framed their hands with stars, a comet, and a ringed planet. It’s identical to the tattoo on my thigh.

I skim the length of her body while she falls back onto the palms of her hands. Luna is hot. Like out-of-this-world, I could take her in point-two seconds if I don’t control myself hot. The hem of her shirt rises on her thighs, and her bare skin teases my dick. Our eyes latch again, and I tell her, “I’ve got some ideas.” The suggestion is clear. I’m not hiding how much I want to fuck her. She swings her knees, left and right. “I could use a professional tattoo assessment.”

Before I blink, Luna pulls the AC/DC tee over her head. No bra underneath, her nipples are already perked mounds. And the band of her lime-green thong rides high on her hips. She spreads her legs open, and every feral button is pushed inside me, sending me on overdrive. I want to mount her and attack her with pleasure—she’s looking at me like she’s pleading for it.

My brain is shouting something else at me. And it’s not to stop us. I jump off the pool table again. This time, I head to the door and flip the lock. Don’t need anyone walking in. I’d like to thank Lily Calloway for this inner growth.

oh thank god

“I know you said…you said you’re not waiting for my memories to come back, but it feels like you are.” Tears prick my eyes, and I wipe at them to stop the waterworks, but it wets my hands. “You’re waiting for when I’m whole and okay and for when you know you won’t hurt me because this version of me is too broken⁠—” “No, Luna—”

I’ve tried to be better—to be more open with the people I love this time around—but I can’t be this ripped apart in front of my roommates. I don’t like this feeling, and there’s only one person I really want around me right now.

Luna lets me tuck the blanket over her shoulders, so I’m thinking this hole I gotta climb out of might not be as deep as I feared. And then she says, “You want in?” She opens her arms to welcome me into the warmth of her blanketed embrace.

It crashes into me. Her love. Yeah… I want in, and without listening to anything but my body, I walk into her arms. She’s gentle and sweet and everything I could’ve ever dreamed of having from a girlfriend during an intense…situation? I definitely wouldn’t call it a fight. It’s a missed signal. She’s speaking Thebulan, and I can’t get the translation back fast enough, not any more than she’s been able to receive mine.

I hate seeing her cry. Think a baby lamb dies every time Luna sheds a tear. It’s a million times worse knowing I’m making her cry. I’m slaughtering lambs. I’m making it hard for little kids to count ‘em to go to sleep. A generation of insomniacs—my doing.

“You don’t think I want you?” My brows jump, my stomach in knots hearing that. “Most hours, having sex with you is all I can think about. I want inside you so badly, I’d rip through space and time just to get to you.”

“I can’t bear the thought of…” hurting you. I cut myself off from saying it. ‘Cause I am hurting her. I thought prolonging sex would help her in the long run, not cause her pain. If I keep pulling away when she thinks I’m getting closer, I’m gonna keep hurting Luna. And myself too. Her hurt is my agony. That much is clear.

“You won’t hurt me if we sleep together,” she assures. “I was right when I wrote that you are the best of humankind. Because being close to you has only brought me the best that humankind can offer. It’s made me feel strong and whole and loved. The very inverse of what you’re afraid of.”

“Think you have a new talent. The banishment of fears.” Her smile lights up my whole world. “They better be afraid of me. Because I’ll come after them again and again, and my bite is deadly. They’ll never win.”

“You hear that? It’s the sound of my fears scurrying away from your poisonous teeth.” She chomps them, and fuck me, I’m in love. Drop everything, I’ll die for her kind of love. She’s the last name I’ll whisper on my death bed kind of love. The universe makes no sense without her k...

So I tell her, “I love you, Luna Hale.” I look deeper into her. “You’ve made me feel more loved than I ever have been, and I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to figure things out.” “Don’t be,” she whispers. “You were always with me. You never left me alone in our spacecraft, and I know what you went through that night to find me. I can remember, and…” She draws closer into my ch...

I won’t ever be a reason we’re suffering. We’ve withstood enough, and I only ever want to embrace the light with Luna. It’s right in front of me now. I’m staring straight into the moon. Her eyes shimmer radiant amber hues. We share an emerging smile.

He curves an arm around my shoulder and kisses the side of my head, making me smile. “You didn’t have to do anything to be worthy. You just are.” That hits me extra hard—and I turn my gaze to a bottle of green veggie juice, trying to stop myself from sudden waterworks. I can’t cry in Wawa! It’s a hallowed space.

“You said I’m worthy by just being me,” I confess. “Some days I feel that too. Other days, I’m sitting in Television and New Media, and everyone reminds me I’m a Hale in a way that makes me feel like I’ll never stop having to prove myself. Even my uncle’s feedback kinda confirmed this. He said there’s no reason why I’m last other than everyone just outperformed me, and it’s like in order to win, I need the Cobalts to fail. Because who I am isn’t enough.” I lift a shoulder and swallow the growing lump in my throat. “But you make me feel like I don’t have anything to prove at all. I am worthy. I think I just needed to hear that today.”

“What’s the best part of this place?” I ask him as we reach the kiosk. “Wawa can turn any day around and right side up.” I didn’t expect that answer. He’s scrolling through the menu, not realizing my smile is so big that it hurts my cheeks. “Has it been officially tested?” I ask. “Over and over. By the world’s second-best test subject. Me.” He slips me a grin. “Which is also why I brought you here. Can’t give it the stamp of approval until the world’s first-best test subject tells me what’s up.” I like how he calls us both test subjects. We both love trying new things—it’s something I’ve known, but it slams into me more profoundly today.

Donnelly is both much older than me and much more experienced in earthly things. What attracts me most isn’t his age or how he can lead me if I’m lost—it’s that he’s as comfortable in his skin as a person can be.

“If you get your Italian hoagie un-toasted, we won’t be anything to each other, Hale.” I’m grinning now. “It would turn you off that much?” “Complete turn off.” “What if I crawled into your bed naked? You still wouldn’t sleep with me?” He’s shaking his head. “Nope.” I can’t stop smiling. “What if we’re the last two people in the entire galaxy? The survival of our respective species would depend on it.” He makes a face. “Nah.” He’s struggling not to grin now. “I can’t fuck a Toasted Hoagie Hater.”

“Your turn-offs are mighty specific.” “Give me yours.”

“Guys who hate glitter,” I nod. “It might be messy but it’s shiny.” “That’s a good one,” he nods back at me.

We’ve been dating for two months, so this isn’t a first date on that account—but something about this date feels magical and easy. Like…we’re just meant to be. It’s a welcoming feeling after some of the tougher moments we’ve weeded through, and I think, right here and now, Wawa is special. It can turn everything around.

“Guys who are embarrassed by me,” I add. “You mean my enemies?”

“Frog wants Italian on ciabatta. Not toasted.” He makes a noise of disgust. “Buffalo doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She’s getting it toasted.” He types it into the kiosk. It’s also the first time I’ve ever heard him call Frog Buffalo. She’s from Buffalo, New York, and I’m guessing the nickname doesn’t happen often because he said it like a pseudo-insult. I prickle in defense like she’s my…friend. She is wearing the emerald green and bright pink striped scarf I knitted her.