Chapter 7 Mascara , Mayhem & Maple Granola Luna
Mascara, Mayhem & Maple Granola
Luna
The image staring back at me in the mirror is quite frankly terrifying.
Is that even salvageable? A massive yawn stretches my mouth wide as I run a hand through the snarled mess on top of my head.
It better be. I have to make at least one quick video to tease our little adventure tomorrow, which I’m dreading but also a little excited for.
Watching the great Beau Whitaker scrubbing a cage should be a good show.
Everything about him screams never-done-a-day-of-manual-labor in his life.
From the smooth wave of golden hair to the blindingly white sneakers on his feet.
I hope he wears those tomorrow. They won’t be so white by the end of the day.
The glaring light of my makeup mirror does nothing for my tired skin.
I pull out the heavy-duty concealer to deal with the dark shadows under my eyes.
If the makeup mirror highlights the flaws, my ring lights will only intensify them.
It’s almost tempting to try out a filter, but I’ve been careful not to use one over my years on social media, and I’m not planning on starting now.
The layers of makeup provide enough of a shield.
My lashes are hanging on precariously. I’m going to need to get them redone ASAP. Because obviously, I needed one more expense.
The transformation is fantastic, but I can still see the strained lines at the corners of my eyes.
Three hours of sleep is not enough for anyone, even me.
Why did Radison have to spring a test on us when we’ve barely had time to catch our breath after the holiday break?
I think his kink might be sadism, but aren’t you supposed to sign an agreement before you inflict your brand of pleasure on someone else? Much less an entire class.
A loud bang at the door has me jumping out of my skin, and my hand slips as I’m swiping on a layer of brick red lipstick. I swear under my breath at the slash of color leading up to my nose.
“Wilder? You coming?”
Beth sounds way too chipper for this early in the morning, but then she always does. I’m not sure if it’s the melodic tone of her voice or her general positive-vibes-only energy, but she never sounds angry. Not even when we lose a game and our opponents chirp at her.
“Yeah, I’ll be down in a few. Just have to film a quick vid. After I fix my lipstick. Thanks for the scare.”
“My pleasure. Wait, can I be in your video?”
There’s a rattle as she jiggles the handle on my door, then I see her peering through the crack, blonde bob swinging over her cheek, eyes sparkling.
I shake my head. “Not today. This is just a quickie.”
“Ooh, a quickie. I’d rather a marathon sesh, but a quickie can be fun too.” She winks at me, ducking back out the door before the makeup brush hits it with a clatter.
“JK!” Her voice is muffled through the door, but then I hear her feet pounding down the stairs. She makes way too much noise for one tiny human.
I flick on my lighting setup, straighten out the miniature hockey players on the shelf I use as a backdrop and get myself in frame. Throwing on my best smile, I hit record on the remote.
“Hey, Wildlings! I’m popping in for a quick update.
I know you’ve all been asking in the comments when you’re going to get to see more of the guys of Lakeview, and I’ve got a super fun surprise for you.
So make sure you tune in to my live tomorrow.
We’ll be hitting one of our favorite places.
” I tilt my head to the side, raising an eyebrow.
“Can you guess where? Let me know in the comments. I’m so sure you can that I’ll pick a few people who guess right to get a shout-out and a tag tomorrow.
Sorry this is a quickie. But I’m heading off to visit the fam today, so I don’t have time for more.
Tomorrow will be worth the wait, though, I promise.
And have I ever let you down? Hockey Gal signing off.
” I wiggle my fingers at the camera and mime shooting my stick before ending the video.
My shoulders relax, smile slipping as I grab my phone off the tripod. My fingers dance across my screen as I tweak and caption the clip. I hit post and grab my bag, slinging it over my shoulder.
The sweet scent of coffee draws me to the kitchen.
Beth and Krista are chatting between handfuls of homemade granola, but I can feel their eyes on my back as I’m reaching into the cupboard.
Thankfully, there’s still some left even after I fill my stainless-steel tumbler to the brim.
I have to dip down to take a sip, cursing as the coffee scalds my tongue.
The tumbler wobbles as I yank back. I snatch at it before it topples, but it sloshes over the edge, sending pain shooting through my hand. Great start to the morning.
I scrabble around for a dishcloth to clean it, and a warm hand falls on my back. “You okay?”
Jenna grabs a cloth, soaking up the mess.
“I’m fine. Just a little tired.” As if to prove my point, I yawn again.
“You’re working too hard, babe. If you need anything, let us know.”
“It’s good. I’m good.”
I busy my hands screwing on the lid and turn back around. “You good to go, Beth?”
“I’ve been ready for literal hours. You know me. I’m all about the morning.”
She is, and normally I am too, but last night pushed me over the edge after a brutal week. I can’t remember the last time I got more than six hours of sleep.
“You going to grab anything to eat?”
My aching stomach is begging me for some sustenance, but I’m already running late. “Nah, I’ll grab something at my parents’ house.”
Jenna shakes her head at me, popping the top of the big container of homemade granola. “Krista made this. She’ll be hurt if you don’t eat any.”
“Yup,” Krista says, looking anything but offended.
Can’t fight the lot of them ganging up on me. “Fine, but hurry.”
I grab the container Jenna holds out, giving her an air kiss.
“Thanks, and thank you for making it, Krista. I’m sure it will be amazing.
” She’s the best cook in the house. Her mom was one of those crunchy types and taught her all kinds of recipes from scratch.
None of us protests since she seems to enjoy cooking.
To me, it’s just a chore. Something else to add to my overflowing plate.
I crack the top of the container, and the sweet scent of maple and toasted oats elicits another rumble from my stomach.
Beth swerves out of the driveway, and I’m glad I have something to focus on, stuffing a handful of the protein-packed treat in my mouth.
I’ve been a little nervous in cars since the accident, and Beth has a toxic relationship with the gas pedal.
If she hadn’t offered, I would have taken the bus.
But I really can’t afford the extra hour it would take to get there on public transit. Not when I have a ride.
I’m washing down my last bite with a gulp of coffee when we pull into the familiar driveway.
The cream paint is a little more worn than the last time I saw it, and the driveway hasn’t been shoveled, but otherwise it looks the same.
I appreciate the familiarity. Life is so hectic and stressful.
So much happening that I don’t have the time to relax at college.
And while I’m not here to relax now, I can let my guard down.
My family doesn’t expect me to be anything but myself.
I’m not the team captain or the social media star. I’m just Luna.
Beth returns my wave, then I slide my key into the door, and it feels like I’m stepping back in time.
“Lulu!”
I brace myself as my little sister hurls her lithe body at me. She’s tiny, but she’s got the advantage of speed to throw me off balance.
“I’m so glad you’re here. I have to go to Gemma’s house. We’re working on our act for the school talent show. And then I’ve got dance for the rest of the afternoon.”
She drops back to the ground.
Her strawberry blonde hair is pulled up into a perfect ballet bun, not a strand out of place, and she’s got a pair of loose green sweats hanging off her pronounced hips.
I run my eyes over her. She’s always been willowy, but I worry about the pressure she puts on herself.
It wasn’t something I thought about when I abandoned dance at the age of six, but as we grew up, I watched my sister struggle with the stringent body expectations of a dancer.
I’m glad it wasn’t the sport for me, but I worry about her.
“Hey, sis. Are you looking after yourself?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Ugh, I can look after myself. You know we’ve already got a mom, right?”
“I can still look out for you.” I try to keep my tone light and teasing, even though the knot in my chest is burning.
Yes, I know I’m not her parent, but I also know things haven’t been the same around here since Mom’s accident.
On a bad day, she has trouble getting out of bed.
The pain from her headaches is too much to handle.
“Whatever. I’ve got to go. Gemma’s here.” She waves her fingers at me, dancing toward the door, but I snag her arm, pulling her back to me before she can open it.
“Get your coat. It’s freezing out there.”
“We’re going to be in a car. Relax.”
I blow out a breath, swiveling my eyes up to stare at the ceiling. She’s only sixteen. She can’t help herself.
“Please take a coat. What if the car broke down? You’d be an icicle before anyone could get to you.”
“Fine. You’re so dramatic.” She snatches the thick winter coat to appease me, but she drapes it over her arm instead of putting it on. At least she has it. It takes the slightest edge off the constant worry that lurks in the back of my mind.
“Look who’s talking?”
“Kay. Bye.”
I wrap my arms around her too-thin frame before she can escape. “Drive safe.”
“We will. See you later.”
“Love you.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She twists around before walking out the door. “Love you too, Lulu.” It might be barely audible, but it still warms my heart.
“Hey, hon.” Mom’s voice is thready, but she’s up and about, so she must be having a decent day.
I turn around to see her standing in the doorway to her bedroom with a tired smile on her face, leaning on her cane.
“Mom. You don’t need to get up for me.” I rush over to hook my arm through hers.
“Of course I got up to see my baby. I’ve missed you. How’s everything going?”
“Come on, let’s go sit down, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
She’s leaning on me, but she lets me lead her over to the couch that’s been a part of our family longer than my sister. The beige plaid print is several shades lighter than it used to be, but I can’t imagine them getting rid of it, even if they could afford to.
The arm she slides over my shoulder after we settle down might be even thinner than my sister’s.
“Are you going to stop fussing over me and tell me about school? How’s hockey going? Any new boys? Tell me everything.”
I smile, happy to be here even if it’s just to keep her company.
After everything she sacrificed for me, I can show up to be here for her.
Even if the weight of my schoolwork combined with my hectic hockey schedule is causing my anxiety to flare up.
It’s okay. I’ve got techniques for dealing with it now. I can handle it.
“Hockey’s great. It’s been good seeing the girls again. The team is really coming together. School is good too.”
“And boys?” There’s a hopeful tone to her question.
I press my lips together. Mom and Dad met in college, and they’ve been madly in love ever since.
She’s always said she has a feeling I’ll meet the love of my life in college, too.
She claims she’s a little psychic. And while there have been a few instances of minor predictions coming true, they’re coincidences, nothing more.
It looks like that one’s a flop. Haven’t met the one yet, so I think I’m in the clear.
“Mom, I barely have time to breathe. Dating is definitely not on the syllabus.”
“I know. But you know me and my feelings.”
“Uh huh. Well, there is a guy I’ve gotten involved with.”
Her hand tightens on my shoulder. “Really?”
“Not like that. He’s on the men’s hockey team. We’ve been ordered to work together. He’s a total ass, though. And since he might be the only guy I’m spending time with this semester, I’m pretty sure your feeling is going to let us down on this one.”
“Maybe.”
Great, now she thinks I’m going to get together with Beau Whitaker. Never. Not in a trillion years. Not even if he was the last man left on a dying planet.