Chasing His Kickass Luna Back

But Karl isn't the only one who has changed. A few years ago, I would have spilled everything to my friends and I wouldn't have done a quarter of the damage control that I do now. I think part of the reason why Chloe is the way she is with me is because I set that precedent of telling her every little detail of my personal life from the very beginning.

And while I value being open with my friends, I'm older and more reserved now. I've realized that I don't need to be an open book all of the time. It's okay to keep some things to myself and not feel bad about it.

I guess we both have done a lot of growing up, huh?

Then, much to my surprise, Karl leans in and plants a gentle kiss on my forehead. The gesture is tender, so unlike the fiery passion we've shared in more private moments recently. It's a side of Karl I'm still getting used to, a side that makes my heart flutter in a way I thought it had forgotten how to.

“Thank you, Karl,” I whisper, my eyes meeting his. There's a softness in his gaze that I haven't seen in a long time, a vulnerability that he rarely shows. It makes him seem more human, more real.

He steps back, giving me space, but the warmth of his touch lingers. “I just want you to be comfortable with all of this,” he says, his voice sincere. “I know it's a lot to process, and I'm here for you, in any way you need.”

I nod, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over me. Karl's support means more to me than I can express. The complexities of our relationship, the arrangement we've made, it's all uncharted—and terrifying—territory for me. But knowing that he’s here, that he’s willing to stand by me through it all, gives me a sense of courage I didn't know I had.

Karl and I fall into another comfortable silence as we sip our wine in the quiet kitchen. My glass is almost empty, and I can feel the effects of the alcohol beginning to set in, making my mind fuzzy around the edges. The alcohol loosens my tongue, too.

“Do you ever think about what this could become?” I ask suddenly, the question slipping out before I can stop it. “Us, I mean.”

Karl's expression shifts, a hint of surprise flickering across his features. “What are you saying?” he asks.

I shrug. “I don't know,” I admit, my cheeks flushing red. “Nevermind. I'm just tipsy.”

But Karl doesn't relent. He levels me with a stern and serious gaze, causing my heart to skip again. “I've been trying not to think too far ahead lately,” he admits. “But I'd be lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind.”

I feel a flutter in my chest, a mix of hope and apprehension. “And?” I prompt, needing to hear more. "And..." he pauses, choosing his words carefully. “And I think there's potential for something more. Something real.”

The honesty in his voice catches me off guard. The possibility of “something real’ with Karl is both terrifying and exhilarating. It's a future I hadn't allowed myself to consider, not seriously anyway. "What about you?” Karl asks then, taking another sip of his wine. “What do you think of it?"

I flush an even deeper shade of red, and out of instinct, I quickly knock back the remainder of my wine and set the glass in the sink. I feel raw and vulnerable, and I'm suddenly regretting bringing it up at all—because I'm worried that I just opened Pandora's box.

“I... 1 think I'm tired,” I murmur, turning back to face him. “And that I shouldn't be having this conversation right now.”

Karl's eyes flash with something unreadable, but he simply nods. Without another word, I scurry out of the kitchen, away from his knowing gaze.

And away from the reality of what was just said between us.