06 another distance

Luna’s POV

I trudge through Royal Heights’ halls, my heart heavy from yesterday’s coffee shop talk with Max. What if someone saw us? I shake off the paranoia. No one from school was there. I picked that secluded spot by my favorite bookstore for a reason—quiet, hidden, safe. Still, I cringe at how I opened up, rambling about galaxies, moons, my parents’ tragic love story. Why did I do that? I’ve kept everyone at arm’s length since last year’s disaster, but Max’s questions slipped past my guard. It felt… good to talk, even if it was embarrassing.

My grip tightens on my backpack straps as I sense the usual stares. They always look, like I’m a puzzle they resent solving. Why bother if I irritate them? I’m almost at my locker when I freeze. Tyler’s there, leaning against it, Mikaela’s arms around his neck. They’re laughing, carefree, until their eyes land on me. The air shifts, more students turning to watch. Tyler’s gaze meets mine for a split second before he pulls Mikaela close, kissing her hard, possessive.

My chest tightens. Their public display is a spectacle, Mikaela’s moan echoing as I focus on opening my locker, grabbing my biology book. Tyler and Mikaela are the golden couple—six months strong, her architect dad and supermodel mom’s genes making her a vision. Long, dark hair, amber eyes that rival my brother’s, a body made for billboards. I envy those eyes, that confidence. I keep my head down, ignoring their heat as I pass.

“Hey, Loony Luna! Always alone, huh?” Mikaela’s sneer cuts through. Tyler chuckles, whispering “Baby” before pecking her lips. I clutch my book, heart burning, but I’m not sure I have the right to feel this anger. They’re together. I’m nothing to them but a punchline.

Max’s POV

Lunch break hits, and I lean against the desk in front of Luna’s, arms crossed. “Same time, same place?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

She’s packing her books, frowning like I’m speaking another language. “After school?” I clarify. “We need to finish the conclusion for the assignment by tomorrow.”

Her jaw drops, and she shakes her head fast, like the idea’s toxic. “I don’t think we need to. It’s okay, Max. I’ll do it.”

I squint, irritation flaring. She’s shutting me out again, avoiding my eyes, shifting in her seat. I glance around—classmates are staring, then quickly looking away. Weird. “You think you can handle it alone?” I snap, not hiding my annoyance.

“I don’t mind,” she insists, gaze fixed on her lap.

“What about my input?” I press. “The conclusion’s half the grade. I don’t get a say?”

She goes quiet, and I sigh, exasperated. “We need to discuss it one more time. It won’t take long.”

Still nothing. She clears her throat, voice small. “I just don’t think we should waste time when I can help us both. Email me your part.”

Waste time? Her words sting, like yesterday’s progress—our actual conversation—meant nothing. I thought we’d cracked her shell, but she’s back to being a brick wall. “Hey, Max! You coming?” a guy shouts from the doorway, classmates hovering, waiting for me to join them for lunch.

“Yeah, in a bit,” I call, waving them off. They leave, curiosity lingering in their glances. I turn back to Luna, studying her. She’s fidgeting, clearly wanting this over. “Do you fucking hate being paired with me?” I ask bluntly, done with her evasions.

Her eyes widen. “No, of course not. Why would I?”

I scoff. “You don’t find my company pleasant, do you?”

“What are you talking about? It’s not like that.”

“I see.” I lean closer, voice low, challenging. “Then why won’t you look at me when we talk?” She freezes, then forces her eyes to meet mine, like it takes all her courage. Those chocolate eyes lock with mine, and the air thickens, tension crackling. I straighten, stepping back to break it, noticing classmates snapping their gazes away again. Caught staring.

Luna looks down, desperate to end this. It’s not just me—she hates the attention. Always has. “Give me your phone,” I say, startling her. She hesitates, confused. “Just give it, goddamn it.”

She hands it over, and I punch in my number, saving it. “To keep in touch about the project,” I say, tossing it back. “And you better fucking pick up when I call.” I walk off, joining the others for lunch, but my mind’s stuck on her—on the way she flinched under those stares, on Tyler’s anger yesterday, on that “Lunatic” jab. There’s a story here, and it’s more than her just being a spoiled brat.

Luna’s POV

Max’s confrontation leaves me rattled. I didn’t mean to push him away, but I can’t risk being seen with him again. Not after this morning, with Tyler and Mikaela’s display, the hallway’s eyes boring into me. Max doesn’t get it—being near me is a liability. The whole school hates me, and if he’s too friendly, they’ll turn on him too. I can’t let that happen, not when he’s new, already fitting in.

I clutch my books, heading to biology, replaying his words. Do you fucking hate being paired with me? No, I don’t. I liked talking to him yesterday, laughing over Harry Styles, sharing bits of my parents’ story. But I can’t afford to like it. I can’t afford friends, not when every interaction feels like a minefield. His number’s in my phone now, a small tether I’m scared to use. You better pick up. His voice was firm, like he won’t let me hide.

As I slip into class, I keep my head down, ignoring the whispers. Tyler’s kiss with Mikaela flashes in my mind, a reminder of what I lost—of Rory, of him, of everything. Max is a risk I can’t take, but part of me wants to answer that call, to let him in, just a little. And that scares me more than anything.