Sam still hadn't guessed who sent her that love letter. Luna was losing her patience not for the anger nor the weariness caused by the lack of finesse that her loved one had to take into account her flirting. No. It was the anxiety born from the imminent «no» that the blond girl could give her the moment she decided to come clean.

That friday night had passed discreetly for the rocker girl, who could only watch from the stage of the club where she played how Sam was approached by other boys, flirts and compliments falling down on her from the whole bar. Even if she had secure her company while packing and going to her hombe by Lincoln Avenue 1216, she couldn't shoo away from her troubled mind those thoughts and memories.

And laying on her bunkbed, she pondered how would she declared succesfully towards Sam. The alcohol in her blood, the hemp on her braincells and tiredom made impossible a more effective contemplation on her dilemma, leaving her with the sole choice of declaring her feelings soon...

But she also knew that there were bigger failure chances, due to breaking the trust between the friends. She needed to know if Sam could return her feelings the way she needed to act.

Twilight set over the window of the thrashed room that Luna and Luan shared, being the first one still plunged on her thoughts. While the second one just snored at ease. When the sunlight flooded the room, the rocker girl realized that she had to silence her stomach's roars, demanding a copious offering of junk food for breakfast.

Having reached the last step, Luna checked the living room clock. Twelve minutes to eight in the morning. If her memory didn't failed her, Lynn had a match by eleven. Possibly, the sportsgirl was using the shower, leaving her at least some minutes of peace and quiet to ransack the fridge.

Her steps were camouflaged with the crockery and cutlery's jingle, the gentle stirring of the water and some humming. Already at the lintel, she saw her mother's figure by the dishwasher, shaking her hips to a rythm shaped by a calm yet animated melody. Judging by her ankles, she still wore her pijamas, reinforcing her attire with the peach colored nightgown that protected her from the cold.

«Is it that cold now? I'm only wearing this t-shirt and my slippers, just that», she thought looking at her legs. But sh turned her gaze towards her mother's lively hips. She seemed enticed by that swing, not caring the nightgown negating a further reveal of her back physiognomy... Her buttocks.

—Oh, Luna! I thought that you were Lucy. You frighten me for a while. How was your night? Did you have a chance to get closer towards your friend Sam?

The accomplice smile from the woman made Luna step into the ground again after that weird reverie. Her answer was a weak grin that resembled her mother's, yet without returning her joy and tired gaze of hers.

—In fact... I think that I need help... I still don't know how to approach her on that topic... It is supposed that she should know who wrote her that letter...

—Luna, you shouldn't think in "what ifs" when you want to be with someone. If she doesn't know yet, she must have her reasons. All that matters here is if she can understand and return your feelings towards her...

—How should I do it?

Rita stopped for some moments to reflect about that doubt. Then, she turned her gaze towards Luna with another smile, proposing:

—Well... if you want advice, why don't we discuss it while you help me to wash these dishes?

—...I know that I ought to tell her, but... what would happen if I betray her trust? We are friends and I'll have to tell her, but I'm not sure if she returns my feelings for her...

—You have been thinking about this through all of this days, haven't you?

—...yes.

The girl stacked the recently washed crockery with reluctance, letting an afflicted sigh after every word she spoke. In the other hand, the woman kept her sight on the girl, smiling tenderly.

—You know what might help you, Luna? Flirt with her. That's how you'll know if the feeling is mutual.

—Maybe, mum. But...

—But what, hun? What is the complicated part?

The girl appeared to concentrate on the dishes more than the conversation. Rita left what she was doing; her attention fell on the young teenager, who was apparently shaking...

And then she barfed on her mother's blouse. The hangover had finally kicked the musician's stomach.

—Mo... mom! I... I'm sorry! I...

—Luna, what have we told you about mixing alcohol with hemp?

—«One substance at the time.»

—Luna...

—I'm sorry, mom.

The woman sighed. She kept on:

—Luna, I understand if you wanted to... drown your sorrows in drugs... But you know how much ill that does to you...

Luna kept her eyes on her feet. Occasionally, she checked the mess that she had left on her mother's blouse. The mix of beer, rum, hemp, hot dogs and bile stank from the cloth.

—And it only helps keeping you from facing those fears... Why don't you flirt with Sam? I'm pretty sure that you'll think of something and she welcomes you nicely for it.

—I... I don't know. What... what could I tell her...?

—What comes to your...? Hold on a sec, hun. I need to take off this pestilence.

She dumped the blouse through the hatch that lead the dirty laundry to the basement, leaving her chest only covered by the nightgown and her brassiere. When she turned, Luna felt again hypnotized by her mother's curves... Although this time from her breasts. Rita hadn't developed big breasts. But they were quite perky.

—Done. Now, tell me Luna, what would you say to Sam if she was doing something cool, cute or... perhaps even sensual?

Luna looked up, but the arrangement of shapes that her mother was making through those moments didn't help her to concentrate; the delineated cleveage and the spicy grin the woman adopted -crowning the smile a slight bite on her lip and pinky finger- made impossible to focus her thoughts on Sam. Moreover, all her attention crowded on the curvy woman that she had in front of her.

Finally, breathing in solemnly, she answered:

—Mom, how would you feel if I told you that you have more curves than the interstate and yet, it would be funnier to travel through the ones you've got?

End of Chapter One.