“I won’t stay long,” Moon mumbles, looking a little sheepish.
“No—no, I’m glad you came,” I say quickly, my face going hot. “Come in.”
He steps over the threshold, a little hesitant, then pulls a heavy tote bag off his shoulder. From it, he takes out a big glass container and hands it to me. It’s warm, filled with glass noodles, beef, and vegetables. I can already smell the sesame and soy.
“I brought japchae,” he says, handing it to me. “It’s a Korean dish my mom always makes for Christmas.”
“Oh, thanks,” I say, thrown for a second. “And tell your mom thanks from me, too.”
Moon nods, and I wait while he takes off his boots and unzips his coat. Nick helps him shrug it off and hangs it in the wardrobe—shooting me a meaningful little smile behind Moon’s back.
I keep my expression neutral, even though I’ve got a million questions. Like how Nick even got in touch with him, what made him think secretly inviting Moon to my Christmas party was a good idea—and why Moon actually said yes. I’m confused as hell, and my body suddenly feels halfway drunk, even though I haven’t even finished my third gin and tonic. And underneath it all, there’s this ridiculous, quiet part of me that’s…stupidly happy he came.
It’s only when the three of us walk back into the living room that it hits me—Moon showing up is going to throw everyone else off, too. And I’m right, because the second we step into the room, every head turns, and the place goes dead quiet.
“Guys, this is Sawyer,” I say, hoping the lamplight doesn’t make it obvious how red my face is. I don’t look at anyone in particular, but I can practically feel the Centaurs staring, stunned.
“Hi,” Moon says, and there’s a ripple of quiet hi’s in response.
“What would you like to drink?” I ask, trying to ignore all the eyes on us. “We’ve got wine, Champagne, and gin and tonics.”
“Wine, please,” Moon says—and that’s when the room finally exhales. Conversations pick up again, the game of wine pong resumes, and it’s like someone hit play after a long pause.
I head to the bar and grab the wine bottle. “Do you drink red and dry?” I ask, glancing at him over my shoulder.
He nods, arms folded across his chest. I can tell he’s uncomfortable with all the attention—even though most people have gone back to minding their business.
“Hey, man,” Eric says, walking over and holding out a hand. “You alright?”
“Hey,” Moon says, shaking it. “Yeah. You?”
“Great as always,” Eric replies—and I can practically feel the tension humming between them. “You look nice.”
“Thanks.”
I glance up at the two of them just in time to catch the way Moon’s expression shifts. Technically, what Eric said was a compliment—but the tone made it land more like a dig.
I know he’s just being protective. He always has my back, but sometimes he holds onto grudges like it’s his job—and acts more like a big brother than my actual one ever has.
Moon does look good, though. He’s wearing a simple but clearly expensive black button-down, stretched just enough across his chest and arms to make it obvious he’s been hitting the gym in the off-season. Black pants, a belt with a gold buckle. His blond hair’s pulled into a loose half-up tie, the rest falling straight over his shoulders.
“Here’s your wine,” I say, handing him the glass—and shooting Eric a blank warning look. Anyone else would miss it, but Eric knows me too well not to catch the meaning. He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head like,What?I look away, making it clear I’m not about to spell it out for him right now.
“Hi,” Samia says, walking up and greeting Moon with her usual warmth—the kind that makes people want to be around her. “I'm Samia. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, I’m Sawyer,” Moon says.
“Are you hungry?” Samia asks, and from the soft, easy way she says it, I can tell she’s been in on the wholeinvite Moonto my partything with Nick from the start. “I can bring you a plate.”
I wonder what those two have been scheming behind my back—and what their actual agenda is. Not that it’s hard to guess, considering how carefully polite Nick’s been every time Moon’s come up over the past two months.
He hasn’t said anything to me directly, but I think my brother knows my feelings toward Moon have shifted. That I don’t hate him anymore. That whatever this is—it’s been gnawing at me, and I’ve got no idea how to untangle it on my own.
“Thanks—maybe later.” Moon takes a sip of his wine, then turns to watch João beating Louis at wine pong.
I step up beside him.
“He’s good,” Moon says, nodding toward João, clearly impressed.
