Kaya
"Excuse ?" My eyes widen as I try to decipher what she ant by that remark.
Samantha lifts an eyebrow, as if baffled by my confusion. "The moon," she says, then gestures toward my hair, her grin widening. "Your silver hair, your eyes––you look like the moon."
She lets out an awkward chuckle, and it finally clicks—she isn’t that great at joking. Noted. But I suppose that should be the least of my concerns right now.
"Do you drink?" she asks abruptly, reaching for the wine bottle again. Before I can fully process the question, she’s already working the cork loose, her movents practiced and efficient.
"I... yes, I do," I answer cautiously, watching as she expertly wedges the room key into the cork and twists.
"Great!" Samantha exclaims as the bottle opens with a satisfying pop. "I enjoy drinking, but the longer I do it alone, the more I start to think I might have a problem."
I stare at her, montarily dumbfounded. It takes a second to realize she’s trying not to laugh. I force a small, awkward smile, feeling oddly obligated to acknowledge her attempt at humor.
With an easy gesture, she motions for to sit on one of the couches near the window. As I settle in, she pours the wine into two glasses, then flops onto the couch beside , looking perfectly at ease.
For a mont, we sit in companionable silence. Then, with a soft sigh, she takes the first sip.
"Ugh, I almost forgot how good this is," Samantha sighs, smacking her lips in satisfaction.
I hesitate, tilting my head. "Excuse , but... what exactly was that?"
She grins, as if she’s been waiting for to ask. "It’s a little ga I play with a friend," she explains, her voice light with amusent. "We each hide an expensive bottle of wine sowhere in the territory, and the other has to find it. When we do, we leave a ribbon in its place as proof."
She swirls the wine in her glass, watching the deep red liquid catch the dim light. "Since I was the one who found the bottle this ti, it ans it’s my turn to hide the next one. But I’ll have to be clever about it—he’s annoyingly good at tracking them down." She takes another sip and smirks. "Though, I have to admit, his taste in red wine is impeccable."
I pause just before taking my own sip, processing what I just heard. This ga... it’s bizarre. Yet, at the sa ti, oddly intriguing. I never would have imagined sothing like this could exist, let alone be sothing people actually did for fun.
Samantha shifts slightly, turning her attention back to . "So, Moon," she says, leaning back against the couch, "how are you settling in so far?"
The na makes stiffen. My fingers drum lightly against the glass as I lower it to my knee. "Could you... not call that?" I say hesitantly. "I’d rather just be Kaya."
Her brows lift in brief surprise before her expression shifts into sothing more scrutinizing, a flicker of curiosity in her sharp blue gaze. "Fine by ," she replies, though there’s a slight edge of suspicion in her voice. "But what’s wrong with your last na?"
She’s persistent—but for so reason, I don’t mind. It’s been a long ti since I’ve spoken openly with anyone. Maybe... maybe I can do it now.
"Moon isn’t really my na," I say, choosing my words carefully. "But also... well, whenever people hear it, it tends to beco a joke."
"A joke?" Samantha’s blue eyes widen with curiosity. "Why?"
I blink at her, almost taken aback. Is she seriously asking that?
"Co on," I exhale, shaking my head. "Moon? It sounds like whoever nad was suffering from a severe case of creative bankruptcy. The coffee girl in the kitchen certainly thought so."
"The coffee girl?" Samantha cocks her head, still looking baffled. "Wait—soone actually mocked you over your na?"
I hesitate, regretting bringing it up. "Well..." I bite my lip, my gaze darting away. I hadn’t ant to complain, and now I’m worried I’ve just landed that girl in trouble. Maybe if I drop it, Samantha will too.
But clearly, I’ve underestimated her persistence.
"So?" she presses, her frown deepening. "Did she?"
I let out a sigh, finally relenting. "Yes. She said it was la. Honestly, I don’t bla her."
Samantha’s expression hardens. "What did she look like?" she asks, her voice sharp. "Was she alone, or were others involved?"
She looks like she’s ready to commit nas to mory for so grand act of retribution. The thought unsettles .
I hesitate, shifting uncomfortably. I don’t want anyone to get in trouble. I don’t want to get in trouble.
So, instead of answering, I take a long sip from my glass, the gulp louder than it needs to be.
"It doesn’t matter. I’m used to seeing worse."
"Worse?!" Samantha practically slams her hand against the armrest of the couch, nearly sloshing wine over the rim of her glass. "Jeez, Kaya, where the hell did you co from? Care to share?"
I hesitate. Is it normal for soone you’ve just t to be this interested in you? I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had friends—never had anyone try to be my friend. I have no idea how these things are supposed to go.
Still, there’s sothing about her, sothing that makes pause. A part of remains wary, but another, quieter part whispers that Samantha isn’t bad. After all, she trusted to be her so-called partner in cri. She let in on her ridiculous little ga. And now, she’s sharing a bottle of wine with —one that, by the taste of it, isn’t cheap.
I lean forward slightly, debating whether I want another sip, when Samantha suddenly breaks the silence again. Her lips curve into a lopsided grin, her blue eyes glinting with amusent.
"I guess I’m doing this all wrong. Would you like to hear more about first?"
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