MOONBOUND

05. 🌶️

HAYLEY

Make-up shouldn't be this complicated.

Yet here I am, overthinking what various shades of lip gloss might mean. Red? Too intense. Black? Gothic and cool as hell, but maybe not the best fit for this evening. Pink wins, and I draw a line over my lip, before dabbing mascara along my lashes. A few seconds later, I set the wand down, stare at my reflection in the small vanity mirror before me, and bask in the glow of my new look.

My silver-gray hair is pulled into a neat ponytail, tied with a pink bow, and my white cottage gown accentuates the brown of my eyes. My rosy lips glow under the small light taped to the mirror.

I dab my palms around the edges of my hair, smiling in appraisal at my reflection. “You’re a thing of beauty, aren't you?” I beam at my reflection. Yes, you are. Even if this little beauty session isn't for you, but for him.

I suppress the smile curling on my lips as I drop my make up instruments into my bedside drawer, my fingers quivering with anticipation.

Ten minutes ago I'd been lying down on my bed, idly scrolling through my phone when a text from Axel popped up. Said he needed help with a couple of arithmetic problems ahead of our class quiz.

And just like that I'd invited him over.

“It’s just a casual tutorial for a few minutes, Hayley,” I whisper to myself. The words sound true to my ears, but the eagerness in my belly feels anything but casual.

I turn away from the mirror, glancing around my room and for a brief moment, my thoughts drift to the only boy who’s ever stepped foot in here—Theo. Memories of our moments together flood my mind like an avalanche. I shut my eyes and inhale deeply, pulling myself back to the present as I will away the dull ache in my chest.

Theo’s gone. Forget him.

Just then, a soft knock raps at the front door downstairs. At the sound, my heart skips a beat. Axel’s here.

I glance at myself one last time in the mirror, running a hand down my dress and flashing my best smile before stepping out of my room, and down the stairs.

I swing the door open to find Axel in a grey and white striped shirt and shorts, wearing a charming grin. God, that smile.

“Hey,” he greets, beaming. “I'm really sorry to drop off like this, but I suck at math, and according to Lucas, you're the only one who can save me.”

I stifle a chuckle. “It's fine, Ax. I'm happy to help. Come on in.”

I lead him through the sitting room and into my bedroom, silently thanking the universe that my mom isn’t home. If she were, this little study session would be happening at the kitchen table with the door wide open.

As we step into my room, Axel’s eyes go round. “Wow.” He walks around, his gaze slowly taking in my purple and white themed room. “It's a beautiful place you have.”

“Thank you.” My knees feel wobbly, and I can't tell if it's the warmness in his compliment, or the effect of standing for too long. I move to my bedside table and lean on the wood.

He glances around the room again, then pauses to squint at a framed picture above my bed. “Who's Mr. Ginger Hair?” He asks with a teasing grin, pointing at the heart-shaped photo frame of Theo above my bed. I glance at the frame, and a wave of awkward embarrassment rushes over me.

I quickly yank the picture down and stuff it into an empty drawer. “It’s… no one.”

Axel’s eyes glint with suspicion for a split second, then he smiles, raising a hand in mock surrender. “Alright. If you say so.”

He settles comfortably on my bed and pins me with a soft gaze. “You’re just as I remember,” He beams.

I sink into the bed beside him, matching his smile. “I doubt you remember much,” I tease. Grabbing a bunch of class notes from the table, I spread the books open between us. “It’s been seven years, Ax.”

“True,” he says with a quiet smile. “And yet everything still feels the same.”

He props a hand on the bed, chuckling. “I still remember all of it, y’know. All the troubles we got into, those late nights in your backyard...”

Heat creeps into my cheeks, and I pause, my fingers stilling over the pages. When I look up, I find him watching me with a gentle, tender look in his eyes.

He blinks softly. “You were my favorite person in the world.”

Butterflies erupt in my belly, fluttering wildly. As those striking green eyes hold my gaze, my skin flushes and I swallow hard.

I pull my gaze away, staring at the textbook before me. “And now? What am I to you now?” I say the words like I'm being a tease, but adrenaline ripples underneath my skin with the small silence that lingers between us.

I glance up, watching his gaze trace my hair, before falling to my lips—and only then do I realize how close we are. He leans forward to brush a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers grazing my cheeks with a tenderness that makes it hard to breathe.

“Ax…” I whisper faintly. When he inches closer, every nerve under my skin burns with a craving that's beyond me. What the hell is wrong with me? Like a moth craving fire, I drink in every bit of his glorious features as his face hovers over mine, with only our breath between us. Pure desire in his eyes is the last thing I register… then our lips meet.

My eyes flutter shut, and I tilt my head backwards, letting him in. His fingers graze my nape, sending a shiver racing down my spine. A soft gasp escapes my lips, and Axel takes the opportunity to plunge deeper, moving his tongue deliciously over mine. I dig a hand through his hair, sucking on his lower lip with a hunger that sets every part of me on fire.

This pulsing ache between us is, it's more than teenage crush. It's more than childhood fantasy. It's more. Our breaths are hot against each other's, and I hold on to his shirt, fisting a handful of cotton in one hand. My free hand explores his body, gliding from his chest to his back… then I stop.

There's something underneath his shirt. It feels rough, like a wound. My fingers hesitate, pressing against it long enough to know it's real. Instinctively, I pull away from the kiss, my breath shaky. “Ax, there's something. On your back.”

He pulls back and stares at me silently. There’s conflict in his eyes, like he’s weighing something heavy. Then, slowly, he reaches for the hem of his shirt and lifts it up, turning slightly to reveal a scar slicing from his ribs to his back. The mark is shaped like a claw scratch, jagged and healed.

I run my fingers gently over the scar. “What happened to you?” My voice trembles.

Axel draws in a breath. “It's from the day my parents were killed. I was attacked by the bear too.” His expression turns solemn. “But unlike them, I survived.”

I reach for his hand, immediately feeling the need to comfort him. But as I hold his hands in mine, I see his index finger twitch. The reaction is subtle, almost imperceptible. But it's one I know all too well.

Unease twists a knot in my stomach.

As kids, Axel had a tell every time he told a lie. We'd tease him for it. Make jokes about it. Twitchy Axel, we called him. Because each time he lied, his fingers would jerk.

It was a harmless tell then. But now? Now I don't know.

Axel releases his hand from mine and pulls his cloth down to cover the wound. He smiles softly, like he's reminiscing about our moment seconds ago.

A smile of my own forms on my lips, and I push the doubts in my mind aside. For the next hour, we work through arithmetic problems, consciously keeping our thoughts on the books in front of us, even as our gaze linger on each other for an unhealthy amount of time.

After our tutoring session, I walk Axel back to his place, then return home.

••••*••••*••••

Later that night, just before I crawl into bed, I glance outside my window toward Lucas’s house. The light upstairs is on and the window is only partly shut. In the small opening, I catch a glimpse of Axel, standing in his room, pulling his shirt off.

My fingers tingle with the memory of his hair in my grip, the solid shape of his body… the scar.

And then there was the twitch in his finger—the slight jerk just when he talked about the bear attack. I close my eyes, fall onto my bed and try to ignore it, like it’s nothing. But I can’t shake the feeling.

It's almost like my heart is tangled in the past, in the memories of the boy I used to know. But my mind? My mind knows better.

Something about Axel Grey is puzzling—and it’s more than just a scar.