Chapter 12 – Ambrosia

My heart stops beating for a second. Has anyone ever received an autopsy report that just said "cause of death: girl was too adorable"? If not, I'm about to be the first.

"Let's... go grab our lunches?"

Luna nods, holding her backpack in front of her like it's a shield against the world. Which, knowing her, it basically is.

We walk down the hallway together, and it's like watching a nature documentary on the world's two most timid animals. She's hunched over, hair curtaining her face, eyes locked on the floor tiles like she's conducting a passionate study on floor design. I, apparently, also have a special interest in floor design. Our poses are practically identical, my back is hunched, and I have my head down, trying to occupy as little space as humanly possible.

I catch her glancing at me from behind her purple hair shield. She must notice how similar we look right now because her lips twitch. It's not quite a smile, but it's close.

We grab our lunches from our lockers, me with my sad little brown bag containing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and Luna with a small, bland gray lunch bag decorated with anime character stickers. Even her choice of lunch bag is adorable. It's perfectly her: unassuming enough not to draw attention, but personalized with the things she loves. She's so cute it should be illegal. It's like she min-maxed her character creation and dumped every stat point into adorable.

The cafeteria is its usual chaotic mess. Popular kids gathering together in the middle tables like royalty, middle-tier kids clustered in their various friend groups, and then... the void. The empty spaces. The no-man's land where people like me exist.

Luna looks like she's about to have a small panic attack.

"This way," I say, taking the lead.

I navigate us through the social minefield, heading straight for my usual seat: the corner table in the back, hidden behind a pillar.

Luna surveys the spot with careful violet eyes, like she's analyzing a potential hiding spot in a stealth game. Then she nods approvingly.

She sits down daintily, and shuffles a little, as if she’s still uncomfortable. I hover awkwardly, sandwich bag in hand, suddenly faced with a life-or-death dilemma.

Where do I sit?

Across from her would be safer. Normal. But then we'd have to talk at a reasonable volume to hear each other. No, thank you.

Sitting next to her means we can whisper about our interests without broadcasting to the whole cafeteria. It means we can keep existing in our own little bubble. But also, it feels kind of... intimate?

My heart is going to explode. Actual cardiac arrest is imminent.

I sit down next to her.

Luna glances at me, her cheeks going slightly pink, but she doesn't move away. Victory.

We eat in silence for a bit, and I actually feel... comfortable. Peaceful, even. I unwrap my sandwich: smooth peanut butter and grape jelly, held in between two pieces of white bread, and I take a bite. Luna pulls out her lunchbox and opens it.

I nearly choke.

"Holy shit," I say, then immediately clap my hand over my mouth. "Sorry. Language. But... wow."

Her bento box looks like something out of an anime. And I don't mean that as a generic comparison, I mean it literally looks like the kind of lunch that would get a five-second glamour shot with sparkles and dramatic lighting. There's rice shaped into a little bear face, vegetables cut into stars and flowers, and these tiny octopus-shaped sausages that are so unnecessarily adorable it should be illegal.

"Wow, even your lunch is cute," I say without thinking.

Luna's entire face goes red. "I... I made it myself… This morning… It's not... it's not that good..."

"You made this?" I'm genuinely impressed now. "This looks like professional work. Like, you could charge money for this."

She ducks her head, hiding behind her hair again, but I can see the pleased smile tugging at her lips. Then, in a move that nearly kills me on the spot, she carefully picks up one of the octopus sausages with her chopsticks and holds it out toward me.

"Do you... want to try one?" she asks, so quietly I almost don't hear it over the cafeteria noise.

My brain short-circuits for a solid three seconds. Is this... are we sharing food? Is this a thing that's happening?

"Uh, yeah, sure," I manage, taking the tiny octopus from her chopsticks with my fingers

I hold the octopus sausage carefully, reverently, like it might dissolve if I'm not gentle enough. Then, because I can't let her be the only one sharing, I tear off a corner of my sandwich, the corner with the optimal peanut butter to jelly ratio, and hold it out to her.

"Trade?"

Luna takes the piece with the kind of delicate care you'd use when handling a small animal, and we both eat our respective offerings at the same time. The sausage is good, savory and perfectly cooked, but I'm more focused on the fact that Luna seems to be genuinely enjoying the sandwich piece, her eyes closing briefly in what I can only describe as contentment.

We both eat our traded food in silence, not looking at each other, both probably dying of embarrassment.

Then I feel eyes on me. I look up and immediately spot them: Selene and Bianca at their table, heads bent together, whispering. They're not even being subtle about it. Selene keeps shooting glances my way, and Bianca is trying to act nonchalant, but I can see her smirking.

They notice I've caught them. Selene gives me this bright, enthusiastic double-thumbs-up.

I get butterflies. Why is she so ridiculously cute?

Bianca grins and mouths "cute girl" before winking.

More butterflies. Why is she so stupidly hot?

I love them. I really do. But I also know with absolute certainty that I'm going to get interrogated the moment I get home. There will be questions. So many questions. Probably some teasing. Definitely some teasing. And knowing Selene, she'll turn it into some elaborate scheme to "help" me, which will somehow make everything worse while also being weirdly sweet.

I mouth back, "leave me alone," but Selene just wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. I give up and look away, groaning internally.

At least Jack Richardson seems to have forgotten I exist. I spot him at the same table, arm around a cheerleader's shoulders, chatting her up, she’s one of the newer ones, not a part of the main squad. She's laughing at whatever he's saying, twirling her hair in that way that suggests she's either genuinely interested or really good at faking it. He looks completely focused on her, which means he's not focused on making my life miserable.

Thank God he's distracted.

Jack's been mercifully absent from my life lately, which is the kind of blessing I don't take for granted. Usually, he's got a sixth sense for when I'm trying to exist peacefully, showing up to remind me that I'm beneath him on the social hierarchy with a well-placed shove or a creative insult about my height. But recently? Nothing. It's like I've fallen completely off his radar.

I turn my attention back to Luna, who's eating her bento with tiny, precise bites. She looks like a squirrel storing nuts for winter, her cheeks puffing out slightly as she chews. It's absurdly, illegally cute.

And then my eyes drift lower.

Her chest is... right there. Impossible to ignore even when I'm actively trying to. The hoodie is doing its best, but physics is physics, and there's only so much fabric can do when faced with that kind of volume. The material stretches across her breasts in a way that can only be described as mesmerizing, pulled taut with each breath she takes. They look impossibly soft, the kind of soft that could ruin a cloud’s self-esteem and send pillows into an existential crisis. Even through the oversized hoodie, I can see how they curve, how they press together, creating this shape that my eighteen-year-old brain is absolutely not equipped to handle in a mature way.

I find myself genuinely wondering about the logistics of it all. How does she even support those things? She's so small, and yet she's carrying around what has to be an absurd amount of weight on her chest. Doesn't her back hurt? Won't they just... tip her over? Is there some kind of engineering marvel happening under that hoodie that I don't understand?

Wait.

Maybe her bottom half acts as a counterweight?

My eyes drift lower without my permission, and oh God, that's not helping my situation at all. Her thighs are pressed together as she sits, thick and generous even through the baggy cargo pants. They look unbelievably soft, softer than anything has a right to look while still being an actual part of a human body. The fabric bunches around them, unable to fully contain their shape, and I can see how they spread slightly against the seat, pillowy and full. They jiggle with each small movement she makes, reaching for her water bottle, adjusting her position, shifting to get more comfortable, and it's mesmerizing in a way that makes me unable to focus on anything else.

And then there's her scent. I'm sitting close enough that I can smell her, that warm, cozy sweetness that I noticed earlier. It's subtle but persistent, wrapping around me in a way that makes my head feel fuzzy and light. Combined with the sight of her sitting there, all soft curves and adorable concentration as she eats her lunch, it's making me genuinely dizzy.

I force my eyes back up before she notices. She's still eating, completely oblivious to my internal crisis, and I'm suddenly very aware of how warm it is in the cafeteria. Or maybe that's just me. It's probably just me. Focus, Adam. Stop being weird.

Luna finishes her bento and carefully packs it away, folding the cloth wrapping with meticulous precision. Then she looks at me, and her eyes sparkle again.

"So... what other anime… are you watching right now?" she asks, her voice gaining a bit of confidence now that we're on safe, nerdy ground.

And just like that, we're off. We dive into a rapid-fire discussion about seasonal anime, which ones are worth watching, which ones are dumpster fires. She's watching this magical girl show that's apparently way darker than it looks, and I'm trying to convince her to give this tennis series a chance even though she says sports are "kind of boring."

"Boring? Luna, this one's different. It's got incredible character development and—"

"They just... hit a ball… back and forth… For episodes."

"There's strategy! And rivalry! And personal growth!"

She giggles and the sound is so unexpected and delightful that I temporarily forget how to breathe.

We move on to manga. She's reading this romance series that's apparently making her cry every chapter, and I recommend this action manga I've been following for years. We argue good-naturedly about whether manga or anime is better, which is a debate as old as time and twice as pointless, but it's fun anyway.

Luna gets more animated as we talk, her hands moving in small gestures, her eyes bright and focused. She's actually really funny when she's comfortable, dropping dry observations and making puns that catch me completely off guard.

We move on to video games, comparing our favorite genres. Turns out Luna is secretly a god-tier competitive player, which she reveals so casually it takes me a second to process.

"Wait, you're Challenger in Legend’s League?" I stare at her. "Challenger?"

She ducks her head shyly. "It's not that impressive..."

"Luna. That's extremely impressive. I’ve never gotten higher than Grandmaster."

"I just... play a lot," she mumbles, but there's this tiny proud smile on her face that's absolutely killing me.

We're completely lost in our own little bubble, the cafeteria noise fading into background static as we trade recommendations and opinions and increasingly nerdy references. Time doesn't exist. The outside world doesn't exist. It's just us and our shared love of fictional worlds.

And then—

RING!

The school bell shatters our bubble like a hammer through glass. We both jump, looking around in confusion as students start gathering their things and heading toward their next classes.

"Jeez, who's speeding up time?" I moan, only half-joking.

Luna looks equally dismayed, quickly packing up her bento box with this disappointed slump to her shoulders that makes me want to fight the concept of time itself.

Then, my stomach does a backflip at what I'm about to do next.

"Hey, uh..." I start, my heart immediately attempting to escape my chest. "Do you have Quickgram? We could... talk sometimes? About anime and stuff?"

I sound like I'm having a stroke. This is fine. Everything is fine.

Luna's face does this thing where it goes from pale to pink in about half a second, and she nods, pulling out her phone with slightly shaky hands. "Y-yeah, here..."

She opens Quickgram and shows me her username: @luna_loves_games.

I pull out my phone, my cracked, budget Android that looks like it’s lost multiple fights to the floor, and add her. My username is just @adam_gray_codes.

She accepts the request immediately, and I get a notification.

"Got it," I say, trying to sound casual while internally screaming. "We should, uh, do this again? Lunch, I mean. Tomorrow?"

"I'd like that," Luna says softly, and my heart does a victory lap around my ribcage.

I'd like that. She'd like that. We'd both like that. This is happening. This is actually happening.

"I should... I should go," Luna says, standing up and gathering her things. She's back to hiding behind her hair, but there's a small smile on her face that she can't quite suppress.

"Yeah. Me too. But... see you tomorrow?"

"See you… tomorrow," she confirms, and the way she says it, soft, genuine, and a little shy, makes me want to punch the air in triumph.

She walks away, and I watch her go. The way her hair swings, the way she navigates through the crowd like she's trying to avoid detection, the way her butt jiggles.

She’s perfect.

I gather my own stuff, toss my lunch bag in the trash, and head to my next class.

I don't think I stop smiling for the rest of the day.