Part 2The Body Shaming of Luna

Of course, I didn't actually dare.

I've always been open-minded and practical—money talks.

But the world is messy, and I didn't want to catch anything nasty.

I decided to get a job.

Sophomore year was busy, so I only had evenings free. All the good gigs were taken by upperclassmen, so I ended up at a late-night food stall.

Right across from a big club, business was booming.

Standing next to the grill in midsummer was sweltering.

I wore a tight tank top and hot pants under an apron, my pale skin glowing in the dim light. I was on my feet constantly.

Occasionally, I'd sneak a skewer when the boss wasn't looking.

My coworker, Peach, watched jealously as I munched.

"Luna, the boss is so cheap. Why does he let you steal food?"

I grabbed another lamb skewer for her and blinked. "Oh, I thought it was allowed."

"Tsk, dummy. Look over there."

She gestured with her chin. "See him? That's the owner of the club across the street. He used to eat at the place next door. Since you started, he comes here every night at 8 PM sharp. And because he's here, all the girls from the club come too. Sales have doubled! You're the boss's money tree now!"

I looked over. A group of guys sat at the big table on the edge. The one in the center stood out.

He wore a floral shirt unbuttoned to reveal a solid chest, his jawline sharp in the flickering light. He held a cigarette between his fingers, squinting as he watched his friends play cards.

As if sensing my gaze, he turned. Our eyes met, and ash fell from his cigarette.

Wow, he's hot.

But...

I pouted. "He smokes. I hate the smell of smoke."

The man's hand twitched, and his half-smoked cigarette fell to the ground.

I realized something was off and shut my mouth.

He couldn't have heard me, right?

We were five or six tables apart.