Unlucky Like Us (Like Us, #12)

by Krista Ritchie

“Dancing in your bedroom at four a.m. Eating homemade turkey sandwiches,” she says, recalling the new memories she’s been creating. “Kissing that makes my whole body sing. Talking so late into the night, I wished morning never came.” I start getting choked up. “Loving when I should be grieving. Smiling when I believed I couldn’t be happy. Hopeful when I only knew to doubt,” she whispers. “I’ve experienced plenty of amazing things already on Earth, and they’re all because of you.”

“My heart is a chasm of everything I know and love, and it will always be filled with you.” I can’t look away from her. “I love you, Luna. I love you so bad, not having you just hurts.”

Memories are threads sewn into a magnificent tapestry of life, and following this one teeny string led me back to him. They all keep leading me back to him.

Donnelly loves me. This me. The Luna of Today. The Luna of Yesterday. And I hope he’ll continue to love the Luna of Tomorrow and each version of me thereafter.

“If you ever find this, you should know there are good people on Earth. He’s worth knowing. He’s worth remembering.”

“And when the world has decayed and all I’ve ever known has disappeared in time, you should know the very best of humankind is him.”

a new white comforter replacing the floral one. He’s taken down most of the grannie décor in favor of his own style. A Van Halen tour poster is tacked to the wall, along with the signed Bass poster from the convention. The only thing he left was Jane’s oil painting. I’ll find him. It’s a desire, a need, an obsession, possibly, but mostly, it’s a yearning to simply exist with him. And I really want to exist with Paul Donnelly.

“You beautiful shingled bastard, don’t let me down on the ground,” I say and squat to grab a heap of colorful Christmas lights I brought up here. Goal: Don’t slip. Don’t fall. I balance well enough. Shingles still beneath my boots, I smile. “Good, roof. I knew we were friends.”

The Hales deserve a happy holiday, after all they’ve been through. They’ve been so preoccupied the past month, they haven’t put up any decorations, and it’s five days till Christmas. Even the fir tree in the front yard looks barren and pitiful. Gonna fix that too. There might be ornaments and ribbons in their attic.

Smells like progress, with the lights and my relationship with Lo. Sure, I’m not his best friend (yet), and he hasn’t invited me over for a bagel and cream cheese.

The sharper lines of his cheekbones say otherwise, but that could just be his morning I hate the world face. He begins to retreat inside the house. “See ya, Luna’s dad!” I shout to him. “Bye, Paul.” Win some, lose some.

and I’m just standing here on the roof, grinning at the cutest sight in my universe. As long as she’s with me, I don’t really care which planet we’re on: hers or mine. I just still hope it can become ours.

Reading the preface silently, overpowering emotion of disbelief and awe and love swells like a full-body rush. “I found a piece of her,” Luna says softly. “It’s a diary.”

It’s nothing short of amazing, but I can’t even be completely surprised. Because amazing is what she’s always been to me.

“You’re the Unearthly Reader.” I wipe a tear that falls down her cheek. “Always knew you were too extraordinary to be only human.” “Humans aren’t so ordinary,” she says quietly, staring into me. “You are extra-spectacular.”

“But I have enough of her and all of me to know what I feel today, and I don’t want to keep fretting over a past I lost. I just want to move forward into the future I have. One where I get to experience so many more things than I ever did. New things, weird things, wishful things, daunting things, romantic things.” “All the things,” I start to grin, my heart pounding. “You’ll get that, Luna.”

“Will you give me that?” Luna suddenly asks, her voice pitching a little with nerves. She’s hanging onto my belt loops. “And I know it’s a big thing to give. Yourself. But I just really want to experience every possible thing with you.” She adds more strongly, “I choose you, Donnelly. I want you. I’m falling in love with you.” With me.

“I can keep giving you who I am, and just so you know, the weirdest, strangest, most beautiful Luna will always be the one you are. Not the Luna you think I want.” Her body bows closer, and I say, “You’ve got me. I promise. And I know how promises are made on your planet.”

Her hands fist the back of my shirt. Clinging. This isn’t a quick two-second peck. We make out on her parents’ front lawn in an endless, hot, heart-pumping moment. I don’t want time to stop with Luna. I want to live each second, each minute, each perfect hour—so we’re all over each other’s timelines. I’ve lifted her up in a front piggyback, my hands on her ass, and her legs are wrapped around me. Deep, hungry kisses.

“Do not desecrate my lawn!” Our heads turn, but the voice came through a window. Her dad. Luna laughs, and I set her on the ground before Lo finds a hose to spray us.

After fucking up her birthday present, I wanted to be better prepared. So I did some online shopping, and I could wait until the 25th to give it to Luna. But the moment is now, and I’m capturing it. I keep it hidden in my fist, and while she comes closer, I explain, “You once told me all about the balance in the Force. How light and dark exist together, but it’s up to us to choose the light.” I open my hand, a pool of silver chain in my palm. Luna sees, and I lift the necklace over her head. She touches the new green kyber crystal at the end of the chain. “In dark times, you found the light side, Luna Hale,” I say. “Think that means you need one of these.”

She touches the tips of the crystals together like it’s a power-up move. I start grinning. “Is this where we self-combust together?” “And merge into our final forms.” “Bet my final form is me inside your pu…”

“Looks like your kid wants to be a pro-wrestler,” I tell him instead. Farrow’s smile stretches while chewing gum. “And just yesterday he cried over a goldfish cracker.” Luna chimes in, “Goldfish crackers are kinda sad. They’re dried up like they’ve washed ashore and crusted in the sun.”

“Wherever Luna goes, unless her dad—” “He won’t,” Farrow says, “and if he does say you can’t spend the holidays with us, then my family will be spending them with you.” It slams into me. He’s choosing me over the Hales. Farrow has always put action to his words, and if there’s any proof that I am his brother, his family, then this is it. But I can’t accept that offer.

“There’s been a death in the family.”