~Picture Above: Shane Roselyn~
"Get up," Her urgent voice calls. She presses her hand onto the top of my head and firmly shakes it, ruffling my hair.
"... Moonshine," I mumble back while sleepily smiling.
"You need to get up, and I mean now."
"Not yet..." I murmur again.
The covers fly off of me, exposing me to the cold. I groan drowsily. She exclaims, "Ms. Montague, I told you needed to be up at quarter past seven, and it is now eight o'clock! Get up. NOW."
Oh, it's Ms. Janitor.
I purposely grumble so she knows I don't enjoy her company.
"Ms. Montague, I will get ice water to splash on you!" She threatens through gritted teeth. A German accent shows through in her sentence.
I groan and sit up in the bed, hair covering my face.
She brushes it out of my face quickly and tells me, "Get ready, you and Luna are going to sort out a few things. You'll wear some of her clothes." She pauses before adding, "Oh, and use male pronouns while you are in public, please. They can't know."
"What is the reason for keeping Luna's gender a secret?" I ask suspiciously. "She isn't transgender, right?"
Ms. Janitor's frame stiffens.
"... No, she isn't transgender. However, if you want to know anything else about the situation, you need to dare to ask Mr. Roselyn."
Luna's hints and the janitor's tense tone of voice add together in my head to conclude that Mr. Roselyn plays the biggest role in Luna's situation.
Tonight I will have the "You didn't take the limo" conversation with Ms. Montague, and then I will ask Mr. Roselyn straightforwardly what is going on here.
I make a note and then snap out of my thoughts to find Ms. Janitor has left the room. I don't know her name, so Ms. Janitor it is, I guess. I'm surprised she didn't leave a comment about my hoodie... Wait, where did the hoodie go?!
I face the dread of having to tell Luna I somehow lost the first thing she ever lent me. But then again, billionaires don't cherish their small possessions, do they?
I enter Luna's closet and her welcoming scent surrounds me. I wish she were here. Where'd she even go?
What did she think when she woke up next to me like that?
Again, I force myself to snap out of my thoughts, except this time my cheeks are flushed from recalling last night's incident.
I end up choosing simple black jeans (though the brand seemed quite expensive) and a pastel green shirt that fit a bit loose, because Luna was about four inches taller than me, though just as skinny.
As for makeup, there's not one trace of it in this room, so I just wash my face and curl my lashes with my fingers.
I hear a knock on the door before it opens.