For Rent and Love

CHAPTER 18

Nico set the two plates on the coffee table and sat on the couch. He left space between them. Not much, but enough. The kind of space that said he wasn’t crowding her, even if his presence filled the whole room anyway.

Luna sat down, legs tucked under her. She picked up her fork, blew on the pasta, and took a bite. She paused.

Nico glanced at her without turning his head. “Edible?”

Luna nodded once. “Yes. Better than I expected.”

“Because I cooked it,” Nico said flatly. He picked up his fork and ate without looking at her, like this was just another Tuesday.

Luna ate quietly for a minute. Then she frowned at her plate. “You used too much butter.”

Nico didn’t look up. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. My fork is swimming.”

Nico reached over with his fork and stole a piece of pasta from her plate before she could stop him. He chewed, thoughtful. “Hmm. Tastes like you were wrong.”

Luna stared at her plate, then at him. “You have your own food.”

“I’m checking for seasoning,” Nico said, like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. A minute later, his fork was in her plate again. “Still swimming. Still good.”

Luna pulled her plate closer. “Stop stealing my food, Moretti.”

Nico kept eating from his own plate, unbothered. “Then eat faster.”

Luna narrowed her eyes. “That’s not how sharing works.”

“This isn’t sharing,” Nico said. “This is quality control. You’re welcome.”

Luna huffed but didn’t argue. She ate. Calm. Reserved. But she kept her plate tilted away from him now, like he was a thief.

After a few minutes, Luna set her fork down and really looked at him.

Nico was leaning back, one arm resting along the back of the couch. Hair still damp from the shower, falling over his forehead. He wasn’t checking his phone. Wasn’t scrolling emails. Wasn’t frowning at the ceiling like he did every other night she’d seen him here.

He looked lighter. Easier. The sharp edges on him were still there, but they weren’t cutting tonight. The tension in his shoulders had dropped half an inch. Maybe more.

Luna wondered why he seemed lighter and happier. She studied him without meaning to.

Nico noticed. He turned his head slightly. “What?”

Luna hesitated. Then said it, quiet but direct. “You seem different.”

Nico didn’t ask what she meant. He didn’t look away. He just held her gaze for a second, then said, “You don’t like this version?”

Luna flushed. Immediately. The question caught her off guard because it was too honest, too close. She dropped her eyes to her plate. “I… I didn’t say that.”

Nico’s mouth curved. Not a smirk. An actual chuckle. Low and warm. “So you do like it.”

Luna’s ears burned. She agreed with him, even though she tried not to. “It’s… fine. This version.”

Nico chuckled again at her reaction. He leaned back, satisfied, like he’d gotten exactly what he wanted without trying.

Luna noted to herself how she loved the sound of his laughter. She’d heard him laugh before, but it seemed different now. She loved the fact that he was laughing because of her. It did something weird to her chest.

She cleared her throat and picked up her fork to hide her face. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late,” Nico said. He stole another bite from her plate. “I’m already used to you making me laugh.”

Luna choked on air. “I don’t make you laugh.”

“You just did,” Nico said. “Twice.”

Luna rolled her eyes. “You have a low bar for humor.”

“My bar is exactly your height,” Nico shot back, deadpan.

Luna blinked. Then snorted. She slapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. The laugh escaped anyway.

Nico paused mid-bite. He looked at her like she’d grown a second head. “Did you just snort?”

Luna’s face went red. “No.”

“You did,” Nico said, delighted. “Again.”

“I did not,” Luna said, but her lips twitched. “You’re imagining things.”

Nico leaned closer, studying her. “Do it again.”

Luna threw a piece of pasta at him. He caught it between two fingers without blinking.

“See? Reflexes of a cat,” Nico said. He popped the pasta in his mouth. “Waste of food.”

Luna crossed her arms. “You’re the one who wanted me to snort.”

“I wanted you to laugh,” Nico corrected. “Snorting was a bonus.”

Luna shook her head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re still talking to me,” Nico said. He nudged her plate back toward the middle with his foot. “Eat. Before I steal the whole thing.”

Luna took a bite to prove a point. Then another. “Happy?”

Nico watched her for a second. “Happier.”

Luna looked down, hiding her smile. She wasn’t good at this. At easy. At banter that didn’t cut. But with him, it felt… natural. Like they’d been doing it for years.

She decided to test it. “Did you know that if you eat pasta while thinking about work, it tastes 40% more like regret?”

Nico raised an eyebrow. “Is that a statistic you made up just now?”

“Yes,” Luna said proudly. “But it’s accurate.”

Nico’s mouth twitched. “Then I’ll eat while thinking about you instead. For science.”

Luna pointed her fork at him. “That’s cheating.”

“That’s adaptation,” Nico said. He stole another bite. “See? 100% better.”

Luna laughed again, softer this time. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous and funny,” Nico said, like it was a diagnosis. “Dangerous combination.”

Luna gasped, mock-offended. “I am not ridiculous.”

“You are,” Nico said. “You tried to cook pasta with a YouTube tutorial titled ‘for absolute dummies’ and you still almost burned my kitchen down.”

Luna threw her napkin at him. He caught it.

“You survived,” Luna said. “So technically, I saved your kitchen.”

Nico leaned back, amused. “Technically, I saved your kitchen.”

“Technically, we saved each other,” Luna said without thinking.

The words hung in the air for a second. Too honest. Too soft.

Luna froze. She looked away fast, pretending to be very interested in the last piece of pasta on her plate.

Nico didn’t tease her for it. He didn’t make it weird. He just said, “Technically, yes,” and kept eating.

The quiet that followed wasn’t awkward. It was warm. Comfortable. Like they’d both agreed not to ruin it.

Luna broke it first. “You know what your problem is?”

Nico didn’t look up. “Enlighten me.”

“You think you’re funny, but you’re just fast,” Luna said. “You talk fast so people don’t have time to realize your jokes are bad.”

Nico paused. Then he grinned, sharp and real. “My jokes are bad because you’re the audience.”

Luna gasped. “Rude.”

“Accurate,” Nico said. He took the last piece of chicken from his plate and put it on hers. “Eat. You need it if you’re going to keep insulting me.”

Luna stared at the chicken. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“I know,” Nico said. “Eat anyway.”

Luna ate it. She didn’t thank him. He didn’t expect her to.

When she finished, she leaned back against the couch and exhaled. Full. Warm. For the first time since she got here, the apartment didn’t feel like a battlefield. It felt like… home.

Nico picked up both plates. He stood. “Stay there.”

Luna watched him walk to the kitchen. No performance. No audience. Just him, carrying plates because they were dirty and needed washing.

From the kitchen, his voice came, casual: “You did fine today. With Marcus.”

Luna blinked. “I know.”

“Didn’t say you didn’t,” Nico said. Water ran in the sink. “Just saying it.”

Luna smiled into her empty plate. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Nico said.

He came back a minute later and sat down again. Same distance as before. He pulled his laptop onto his knees but didn’t open it right away. He just sat there, like he wasn’t in a hurry to be anywhere else.

Luna glanced at him. He still looked lighter. Happier. The smile was gone now, but the effect of it stayed on his face. Softer eyes. Relaxed jaw.

She found herself talking without planning to. “Do you always laugh like that?”

Nico didn’t look up from his laptop. “Like what?”

“Like you mean it,” Luna said. Quiet.

Nico stopped typing. He looked at her. For a long second, he didn’t say anything. Then he said, “Only when it’s worth it.”

Luna’s chest did that weird thing again. She nodded once and looked away.

Nico opened his laptop. Started typing. But every few minutes, his mouth would twitch like he was holding back another laugh because Luna muttered something ridiculous under her breath about “butter conspiracies.”

The apartment stayed warm. Safe. Just them.

Just Luna, making Nico laugh despite himself. And Nico, sharp tongue and quick retorts intact, letting her.

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