Chapter Twenty-One. Riley
Chapter Twenty-One
Riley
Luna and I fly to Athens in a private jet.
I don’t know whether she convinced Ashley this was a good idea or bribed the bodyguard who comes with us not to tell Ashley that I’m with her, but no one stops us.
The whole experience is outrageously luxurious, from the way we walk right onto the plane without security to the bottle of chilled champagne waiting for us on board.
Once the doors shut and we’re away from anyone else, I can see Luna relax.
She squeezes my hand briefly as we take off. “Thanks for coming,” she says happily. “I wish we could’ve flown easyJet. I’ve always wanted to fly on a budget airline. It sounds exciting. But at least we have privacy.”
It’s wild to me that she’s able to completely ignore that we have a mid-forties six-foot-tall man following us everywhere we go.
But I suppose that’s just her normal day-to-day life.
“I mean, I’m definitely not complaining about flying in a private jet.
I’ve actually been flying budget airlines, and the seats don’t recline, there’re no tray tables, and you have to pay for water. This is definitely nicer.”
“Nicer isn’t everything! I want to be shuttled to the plane packed like sardines in a hot bus. I want to get the full experience,” Luna explains.
I want to say that she’ll get to try it eventually, but given how much more famous she’s become even throughout her tour, it seems impossible. “I can wear a GoPro next time,” I offer instead.
“My hero,” she laughs.
We settle into the flight, and I edit my social videos while Luna flips through her song notebook, mainly staring at blank pages. About two hours in she nudges me.
“Look,” she says, nodding toward the window.
I turn to my left, and my jaw drops. The Mediterranean is blue and sparkling, and I can see the islands below us.
We go over a mountainous island, and for a moment I swear we’re going to fly directly into the cliff in this tiny plane.
I flinch and turn back to Luna, who hands me a glass and then pops a bottle of champagne.
“I’m happy we met,” she says with a smile, and we cheers.
“I am too,” I say, and I interlace my fingers with hers. No pretense. No brief squeeze then letting go. I’m almost breathless for a moment waiting to see how she’ll respond, but she just holds my hand, tracing her thumb gently over my knuckle.
Now, I don’t know if this feels surreal because we’re in a private jet in Greece flying over a huge stretch of sparkling blue Mediterranean Sea, or because Luna and I are holding hands.
I know I’ve been talking to Luna every day, flirting and getting closer over voice memos, but we haven’t spent that much time together in person, and to be holding her hand—holding Luna Leya’s hand—has a slightly hazy, unreal quality.
We somehow land safely in Mykonos, where a car service meets us and takes us to our hotel.
The driver explains that we’re staying outside Old Town Mykonos, at Cavo Tagoo, a resort hotel that’s famous for hosting celebrities and being discreet.
They have cars available to drive us to and from town at any time, and can arrange any dinners, boat rentals, or excursions during our stay.
When we arrive at the hotel, the concierge greets us with welcome champagne and takes us on a brief tour of the hotel as we sip on our drinks.
When we finally reach our room, the concierge reassures us that our bags are already there waiting for us and then makes a swift exit along with Luna’s bodyguard, who has a separate room that they explain is nearby.
I look around, confused as to why her security is staying in a different wing of the hotel.
“Which room do you think is ours?” We’re in a hallway that leads to an incredible infinity pool with lounge chairs that rise directly out of the water, with a sauna on one side and another hallway on the other.
Luna smiles, amused. “Riley, this is all our room. We have a private villa.”
“This entire space?” I walk forward, taking it all in. There are multiple hallways, our own mini gym, a living room–type space, and as I start opening doors, I find a giant bathroom that appears to be carved into a cave, plus at least three bedrooms.
“It is really beautiful,” Luna agrees. “It’s slightly extravagant. But we don’t get a lot of days off on this tour.”
I follow her outside, where she stands at the edge of the pool and looks out at the ocean. There’s a bottle of champagne chilling in ice, glasses, chocolate, and a bouquet of roses. I pick up the note.
Welcome to our honeymoon suite.
Luna snatches it from me, blushing. I like seeing her like this, when she’s not made up and her hair is frizzy and her clothes are wrinkled from traveling all day. “I’m sure it was just the nicest room.”
Luna’s always so put together, it’s cute to see her a little frazzled. I dip my hand into the water, and it’s the perfect temperature, just cool enough to be refreshing in the heat. “Should we go for a dip?”
“Definitely.” Before I can turn to change, Luna is peeling off her sweatpants and tank top.
And then her bra and underwear. I turn away quickly, but not before I catch a glimpse of her small, pert, pale breasts and flashes of smooth white skin her bikini normally covers.
Luna jumps into the pool and the splash hits my flaming cheeks.
This can’t be real.
“Come on!” she calls out when she resurfaces. “This is the whole point of having the honeymoon suite. Total privacy.”
I turn back toward her and bite the inside of my lip at the sight of her standing in the water, her hair wet and the water just barely obscuring her dark peaked nipples.
I unbutton the white linen shirt I bought back in Provincetown for this trip and discard it on the ground.
I have nothing on under it, and I expect Luna to avert her gaze, but instead she stares at me hungrily.
Compared to her lithe frame and small breasts, I’m all curves.
I peel off my shorts and underwear in one fluid motion and leave them in a pile on the ground.
I’m not waxed like her, although I did shave my bikini line in preparation for our trip, but other than that I’m unkept, and I would feel slightly self-conscious of it if Luna weren’t looking at me the way she is.
She’s taking me in like she’s starving and I’m a ten-course meal.
I step into the pool, and once I’m deep enough, I dunk and swim toward her, rising out of the water about a foot in front of her.
I don’t say anything still, and we just look at each other.
I can’t make a move. Maybe I should, because technically she’s my boss.
That’s why we’ve been so secretive. But she’s also famous, she’s younger than me—although probably not enough to matter—she’s been dating high-profile men, and she only maybe, probably—okay, definitely—secretly likes women. Likes me. So I wait.
Luna takes her time. She gazes at me with a confidence and certainty that’s unfamiliar to me.
Like she knows I want her. And of course she’s right—I do.
But also like she wants to memorize this moment and lick the water off every inch of my skin.
When she finally, finally steps toward me and pulls me closer to her with a hand on my bare waist, I actually gasp with relief.
She cradles my face with her other hand, somehow pulling me toward her with a firm grasp on the nape of my neck while running her thumb along my jaw in a way that’s driving me crazy.
She lowers her mouth to mine agonizingly slowly, and when our mouths connect, the kiss takes all the air out of me in a gasp of oh my god, this is happening.
Her mouth is so soft, and when she pulls me against her, I wrap my arms around her neck and relish the feeling of her body against mine.
We fit together perfectly, our height difference slotting us against each other, and the way she’s kissing me, I never want it to stop.
I kiss her back just as ferociously, nipping at her lower lip, and then when I run my hand down the side of her chest and her stomach, stopping at her hip bone, she shivers into me.
I’m kissing Luna Leya. I can’t keep myself from thinking it, despite understanding that Luna, the woman I’ve gotten to know, is so much more than the Luna Leya character I’ve followed for years.
She’s so much more human, so much better than I imagined her, but it’s still hard to believe that the girl who’s totally naked in my arms is her.
We keep kissing, pressing closer and closer together, and I can’t get enough of her. We could have been making out for five minutes or five hours when we’re interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the door.
Luna breaks away, her lips swollen, eyes dark, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look more beautiful. I pull her toward me for one more kiss.
“I forgot I booked us massages. Just let me cancel them,” she says breathlessly.
I luxuriate in watching Luna walk out of the water naked, her strong thighs and perfect butt flexing as she climbs the steps. She glances back at me and winks when she sees that I’m looking. I stay in the water while she throws on a bathrobe and sends the people at the door away.
What is my life right now? This is Luna Leya, one of the most famous singers in the world, not to mention my boss.
I probably should be worried about losing my job if this doesn’t work out.
But honestly, right now I’m willing to jeopardize the rest of the tour for today. Except it doesn’t feel risky.
Because even though I wasn’t sure Luna liked women, that kiss didn’t feel like an experiment. I just hope that this isn’t just some rebound vacation fling, because even though I’ve only known her for a few weeks, I have a gut feeling that at least for me this could be much more than that.
When Luna comes back to the pool, I walk out of the water to meet her and crane my neck up to kiss her, naked and dripping on the stone floor, while she’s still in her robe.
She kisses me back and tentatively touches my breast, inhaling sharply as she cups it.
The way she touches it, so tenderly but hesitantly, tells me that this is new for her.
I kiss her a moment longer—firmly, passionately—but then pull away.
“So,” I say, holding her against me by the string of her robe.
She rests her arms on my shoulders and drops her forehead to mine. “So,” she echoes, laughing. “I may have wanted to do that for a while now.”
I kiss her once. “I may have wanted to do that since I met you.” Since I was seventeen, actually. “But I didn’t think I was ever going to.” A breeze hits my bare skin and I shiver.
Luna jumps up to get me a robe, and anxiety flashes through me briefly.
Please don’t let this mean nothing to her.
I pour us each a glass of champagne, and my experience wins out over my shaky hands and leaves us with two perfect not-too-foamy pours.
I take them and the chocolates over to one of the lounge chairs.
Luna returns with a robe for me and wraps me in it.
It’s gigantic and completely envelops me in luxurious terry cloth.
Luna climbs behind me on the chair and pulls me between her legs so that I’m leaning against her chest while she strokes my hair and we sip champagne. I don’t know if it’s the champagne or her touch, but my fears settle as we sit there. I look up at her. “Have you always liked women?”
She exhales as she thinks. “Hmm, probably? Honestly, I’ve always mainly liked my music. That’s what’s made me feel the most, and my relationships with real people were secondary. But it was … risky and inconvenient to like women. I never gave it any air.”
“But your songs,” I clarify. “When you’re singing them, who are you thinking of?”
“Men, yeah. I’ve only dated men, and until meeting you, I never really considered anything else.
But when I met you, it just felt obvious.
And all the men … it never once was like this.
As soon as I started to like you, I realized that I never really liked them at all.
I mean, maybe I could like the right guy.
But this was so much bigger a feeling than any of that.
” Luna pulls me tighter to her. “How about you? You mentioned an ex-girlfriend once.”
“I’ve always dated women, yeah,” I say. “But it never was an event for me. Because I grew up in Provincetown, where I knew way more queer people than straight people, and I have two dads, I never came out or anything. It would make for a boring first date story.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, on first dates with women, they often share their coming-out story. And trauma-dump, honestly, but that’s a whole different thing.
But no one around me ever assumed I would be straight, so I never felt the need to come out in the same way people who have compulsory heterosexuality put on them from birth do.
I just knew I could like whoever I liked and it would be accepted.
” I raise Luna’s hand to my mouth and kiss it.
“Honestly, if people have to come out as gay, then people should have to come out as straight, too. It’s only fair. ”
Luna laughs, and I love the sound. I love making her laugh, and I want to be the only one who gets to do it. I turn around and kiss her, and when she kisses me back, she tastes like champagne and chocolate.
“We don’t have to decide what this is right now,” I say when we break apart. “And we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We can take things as slow as you want. I’m just happy to be here with you.”
“But, Riley, I want all of you. So badly.” Luna pushes my wet hair behind my ear and then traces her fingertips along my collarbone and the dip of the robe. “I know it’ll be complicated. But I want this, the whole thing.”
The pounding in my chest slows down as I hear those words.
I knew I couldn’t do this and walk away like it was casual without it hurting me.
I was just willing to anyway. I was willing to self-destruct into a million pieces to have this with her.
But something about this does feel more real than anything else I’ve experienced, and hearing that Luna feels the same is like a dream. I hope it’s the truth.