LUNA

"Let me guess," my sister Nova watches in amusement as I stumble out of my room in a frantic mess, "you're late."

My reply is a flurry of curse words as I hop around trying to shove my half-a-size, too small Converses onto my feet before I straighten up, feeling light headed from all the fast movement. "Do you have to point it out?" I blow a curl out of my face, unimpressed by the fact my sister finds it humorous that I'm already losing my shit 5 minutes after waking up.

Nova, still smiling, strides toward me in her impeccably crisp, white button-up and black skirt outfit, heels clacking against the tiled floor. "Here," she pauses in front of me and shoves the piece of toast she had been munching on into my mouth. "At least eat something before you go."

I mumble out a thanks as I chew my impromptu breakfast.

"Want me to drop you off?" She then asks.

I open my mouth to respond but a reply isn't needed. The blaring sounds of the city 8 storeys below answer for me; the resounding honks of various cars and buses indicating the Monday morning traffic. A peek out of my sister's floor to ceiling windows would undoubtedly show the long lineup of vehicles.

I shake my head no anyways.

Nova nods understandingly and pulls open the door to the apartment we both share.

Swallowing the last bite of my toast and wiping away any remaining crumbs, I get on my tiptoes and give my sister a peck on the cheek before slipping out the crack of the door she prised open. "I'll see you later Nove."

"Bring me a red velvet donut!" She calls out behind me before slamming the door shut. I wait until I hear the telltale signs of the door being locked before I turn the corner and head towards the elevators. Although my sister's apartment is located in one of the better neighbourhoods of the city and her apartment complex has excellent top range security, you can never be too careful.

Once the elevator whizzes down to the first floor and the steel doors open, I'm practically running out of the lobby, fluttering my fingers at Stephen, the doorman of the apartment complex but not slowing down to properly greet him.

I then speed walk to the subway station, tugging my headphones on top of my head as I manoeuvre my way through the throngs of people already crowding the street. The morning sun is bright, the sky a cloudless blue. It's a beautiful summer morning but I barely have time to appreciate the good weather before I'm rushing down the steps into the dingy subway station.

I almost miss my train but after picking up my pace, I manage to slide into the carriage before the doors slam shut. I wrinkle my nose as I try to find even an ounce of breathing space in the packed car. My back is practically plastered to the woman behind me and a child is pressed up against my front, deciding to hold onto my sleeve for support instead of a handrail.

I'm still getting accustomed to the hustle and bustle of the city. Having moved out from a small town in Ohio, where everyone and their mother knew everything about everyone, adjusting to life in New York city has been widely different. But different was good. I needed different.

As much as it was comforting living in Lakewood, I needed a change in scenery after being tied to my hometown for 22 years. Although I only moved out here 6 months ago, I have been planning this move since the end of high school. It was one of the biggest items I needed to tick off from my list.

I had created 'The List', when I was 18 and fresh out of highschool. My summer after graduating had been tedious and uneventful and the lack of excitement had left a lot of free reflection time available. And during those many reflection periods, I came to several realisations about myself and my life.

One night, I had been flicking through my yearbook which had been left untouched on my bedside table since the last day of school and on reading over the 4 and a half messages that had been written at the back, a nasty understanding had dawned upon me: only 4 people had signed my yearbook.

4 people.

It made me realise that after 4 years of highschool, I could list all the people that could be considered 'friends' on one hand and even then, calling them 'friends' could be a stretch.

My best friend Ivy since kindergarten was the only person I could actually consider a friend friend, (although I did question our friendship often). The rest; Lucas Miller, Isabella Quintero, Vanessa O'Connell and Jaxon Maddison could all be filed into the category of 'acquaintances'. They were the only few people I had talked to on more than 3 occasions. Even then, Jaxon could probably be taken off the list since his message in my yearbook had read "thanks Lilly for letting me copy your math homework for 4 years".

This realisation had me sitting on the floor in my room for hours, thinking about the past couple of years of my life. Highschool hadn't necessarily been a bad experience for me, just a boring one. I didn't have any core or memorable moments from those years that I would cherish. Aside from studying and hanging out with Ivy, I didn't really do much. Most of my time was spent at home, or alone in my own company. I didn't socialise with people in my grade, the only times I went to parties or school events was if Ivy needed someone to drive her. I also then realised that I was essentially a shadow to my best friend.

I didn't realise how much this all affected me until that evening. It mostly affected me because I realised I only had a boring experience because of me. I didn't make a greater effort to make my experience more enjoyable. I refused to step outside my comfort zone or talk to people or make friends. I was a shadow to Ivy because I let her treat me as such.

So at the back of my yearbook I created a list. I wrote a bunch of things to do that were out of my comfort zone and things that would ensure I wouldn't ever feel like I had wasted several years of my life again. I had both ticked off items and added to the list continuously over the last couple years. The most recent and prominent item that I had crossed off was moving out of town and 3 years later I was finally achieving it.

To be fair, this move wasn't 100% out of my comfort zone as of yet, seeing as I had moved in with my lawyer sister in her fancy apartment in Manhattan, but it was only until I got on my own two feet and I had plans to save up and move into my own place by the end of the year. So for now, I was allowing myself the luxury of my sister paying for most of the rent and bills, letting my adjustment to the city be a more smooth and comfortable one.

The train screeches to a halt, drawing me out of my thoughts as I almost lose balance and topple onto the child in front of me. I manage to steady myself as well as gain greater breathing space as several people get off the current stop.

I plop down onto an empty row of seats as the next couple of people file onto the carriage. As I'm doing so, I make eye contact with a man as he steps on and somehow he takes that as an invitation to come and take a seat right next to me. As in right next to me when the rest of the row is pretty empty.

He looks like he's about to start a conversation with me so I busy myself with increasing the volume of the song blaring into my ears on my phone and trying to ignore his presence.

That turns out to me quite hard as I end up hyperfocusing on his body next to mine. It's hard not to when it seems like his hand is beginning to inch toward my thigh. Motherfucker.

I cross my leg on top of the other and tug down my skirt, shuffling to the edge of my seat trying to increase the space between us. It doesn't work seeing as the way he sits, with his legs spread apart, minimises all the surrounding space. From my peripheral vision I see the man's head turn to face mine, a weird smile pulling on his face which gives me the major creeps.

I'm able to firm my discomfort until my stop, which is thankfully the next, and when the train slows, I jump up from my seat to rush out onto the platform. Unfortunately for me, the creepy man gets off as well. I feel his presence behind me as I'm stuck behind the rush of people trying to clamber the steps towards the entrance.

Once I'm out of the station I turn my head to look behind me to see that the man is still in my line of vision. We lock eyes again and he smiles creepily yet again and I don't know if I'm paranoid or what but it seems like he begins to speed up his pace.

I begin speed walking myself, determined to lose the guy on my 10 minute walk to the café in which I work at. I stay near a crowd of tourists hoping to blend in and continue my fast pace.

I'm certain I've lost the guy when I near the café and turn to see that I don't spot him behind me. I breathe out a sigh of relief and slow down my pace just a tad but apparently I let my guard down too much as when I'm rounding the final corner, I feel a hand wrap around my arm. Without thinking, in both reflex and fear I turn and punch the person in the eye.

"What the fuck," a man groans and for a second I'm filled with a sense of satisfaction at the pain lacing the guys voice. That feeling is short lived when I remember the predicament I'm in and I'm ready to start yelling bloody murder when the voice crying in pain registers in my mind.

I quickly whip around and realise that the person I punched was not in fact the creepy man.

My eyes widen into saucers.

"Milo?" I exclaim, in utter disbelief.

"Hey Luna," he wheezes , still clutching onto his eye, "It's good to see you."

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AUTHORS NOTE:

HELLO omg it feels so good to be back, I missed writing and I missed you all so incredibly much :,) I hope you enjoyed this chapter!! Lot's of love always – Mai ♡