Lost In Your Words

Chapter 4: Luna’s Perfect Routine — Luna’s POV

I like routines.

Routines make things predictable. Manageable. Easy.

Wake up. Get ready. Coffee. School. Rehearsal. Home. Repeat.

There’s comfort in knowing what comes next. In not having to think too hard about anything outside of what’s already planned.

And right now, I need that.

Because everything is fine.

Completely fine.

Nothing is different.

Nothing has changed.

I stir my coffee a little longer than necessary, watching the swirl of cream disappear into something uniform. Smooth. Controlled. The way things are supposed to be.

“Luna.”

I blink, looking up.

Maya’s standing across from me, arms crossed, eyebrow slightly raised.

“You’ve been stirring that for, like, a full minute,” she says.

“I like it mixed properly,” I reply, setting the spoon down a little too quickly.

She doesn’t look convinced.

She never looks convinced.

“Right,” she says slowly. “And the staring into space thing? Part of the routine too?”

“I wasn’t staring into space.”

“You absolutely were.”

I grab my coffee, taking a sip just to have something to do. It’s still a little too hot, but I don’t react.

“I’m just tired,” I say.

Maya hums, like she’s filing that away under things she doesn’t believe.

“Sure.”

We start walking, and I focus on that—on the rhythm of it. Step, step, step. Something steady. Something normal.

Because everything is normal.

Rehearsal is normal.

Being around him is normal.

Thinking about him—

No.

That part doesn’t count.

I tighten my grip slightly on my cup.

“Okay,” Maya says beside me, way too casually. “So are we going to talk about it, or—”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“That was fast.”

“Because there’s nothing going on,” I insist, maybe a little too quickly.

Maya glances at me. “I didn’t say there was.”

I don’t respond.

Because if I respond, I’ll say something wrong. Something I don’t want to think about.

We walk the rest of the way in relative silence, which I appreciate. It gives me time to settle back into something familiar. Something safe.

By the time we get to rehearsal, I’ve almost convinced myself again.

Everything is fine.

I push open the door and step inside—

—and immediately see him.

Liam’s already there, sitting near the stage, script in his hands.

Of course he is.

He always gets there early.

I knew that.

I always know that.

So why does it still catch me off guard?

I look away quickly, like I didn’t just notice him within half a second of walking in.

“Hey,” Sofia’s voice cuts in as she drops into step beside me. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“I didn’t.”

“Mm,” she says, clearly not buying it. “Sure.”

“I’m serious,” I say, setting my bag down. “I’m fine.”

There it is again.

Fine.

I keep saying it like if I repeat it enough, it’ll become true.

I pull out my script, flipping it open to a random page just so I have something to focus on. Words. Lines. Something that isn’t—

“Hey.”

My entire brain short-circuits for half a second.

I look up.

Liam’s standing there.

Of course he is.

Why wouldn’t he be?

“Hey,” I say back, hoping my voice sounds normal. It doesn’t feel normal.

“Um—are you, uh… running the scene today?” he asks, gesturing vaguely with his script.

I nod. “Yeah. Probably.”

A pause.

Not a long one.

But long enough.

“Cool,” he says.

“Yeah.”

Another pause.

This is fine.

This is a normal conversation.

People talk like this all the time.

Right?

“Okay,” he adds, shifting slightly. “I’ll—uh—see you up there.”

“Yeah,” I repeat, because apparently that’s the only word I know now.

He nods once, then walks away.

And the second he does, I exhale.

Like I’ve been holding my breath the entire time.

“Wow,” Sofia says from somewhere behind me. “That was painful.”

I turn around. “What?”

“You two have the conversational flow of, like, broken Wi-Fi.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is exactly true.”

I shake my head, flipping another page in my script even though I’m not reading it.

“It’s not a big deal,” I say. “We were just talking.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Normally.”

“Totally.”

I glare at her. “Sofia.”

She raises her hands. “Hey, I’m just observing.”

“Well, stop.”

She grins. “Can’t. It’s too entertaining.”

I look away again, back toward the stage.

Liam’s there, already getting into position.

Not looking at me.

Which is good.

That’s good.

That’s what I want.

I think.

“Alright,” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else. “Focus.”

Routine.

Stick to the routine.

Lines. Blocking. Movement.

Nothing else.

I step up onto the stage, forcing myself into place, forcing my thoughts into something structured.

Something controlled.

Liam glances at me briefly as I take my mark.

Just a second.

Just enough.

And something in my chest tightens.

I ignore it.

I have to.

Because everything is fine.

I know my lines.

I know what I’m supposed to do.

I know how this goes.

This is safe.

This is predictable.

This is—

He starts the scene, and I miss my cue.

Just slightly.

Just enough that it throws off the rhythm.

“Sorry,” I say quickly, jumping back in.

“It’s fine,” he replies, just as quick.

But it’s not.

Because now I’m aware of it.

Of him.

Of the way his voice sounds when he’s this close.

Of the way I have to not look at him directly for too long or I’ll forget what I’m supposed to say next.

This isn’t part of the routine.

This isn’t supposed to happen.

I push through the scene anyway, sticking to the lines, sticking to the motions, like if I follow everything exactly, it’ll cancel out whatever this is.

It doesn’t.

If anything, it makes it worse.

Because now every small thing feels bigger.

Every glance.

Every pause.

Every almost.

By the time the scene ends, I step back a little too quickly.

“Good?” I say, even though I’m not sure what I’m asking.

“Yeah,” Liam says.

Another pause.

Of course.

I nod, like that settles it.

Like that means something.

“Okay,” I say.

And then I walk off the stage before anything else can happen.

Before I can mess something up.

Before I can think too much about why this feels so different now.

I grab my bag, my script, anything—just something to keep my hands busy.

To keep my mind busy.

To keep everything exactly where it’s supposed to be.

Routine.

I just need to stick to the routine.

Because as long as I do that—

As long as I don’t think too hard about any of this—

Then everything will stay simple.

Everything will stay normal.

Everything will stay fine.

Right?