Page 197 of June First
“Let’s go, June!”
Her smile lights up my phone screen, complementing the glitter in her silvery eyeshadow. She calls over her shoulder to an unknown female, “One sec! I’m on a call.” Then she faces me again, her smile widening the moment our eyes lock through the video chat. “Birthday adventures,” she says in a breathy voice, sounding apologetic.
“Go,” I tell her lightly. “Have fun.”
June glances behind her again to where a group of friends laugh and loiter near a storefront building, then walks with her phone to a quieter corner. “They can wait,” she tells me, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth. A tension-filled moment lingers between us, our connection still palpable despite the fact that we’re staring at each other through my cracked cell phone screen and June is nearly eight hundred miles away.
I clear my throat, breaking the silence. “You look really pretty.”
Ducking her head, I swear she blushes as a bashful little laugh slips out. June sweeps her long brown hair to one side as it glints with streaks of golden highlights beneath the lamppost. She’s wearing something that looks like an old-fashioned flapper dress, pearly and infused with gems, and her lips are cherry red. “Thanks,” she says softly, glancing back up. “I just got done with a performance. Nothing major, just a background dancer. Celeste has had some really great connections for me out here, and…” Her voice trails off, her eyes turning haunted for a moment. Another life reflects back at me. “And I miss you.”
My throat tightens as that tension flares again, riddled with poignancy and unsaid emotion. I swallow. “I miss you, too, Junebug.”
“I’m doing really good,” she tells me, tucking a thread of hair behind her ear. A silver hoop earring glimmers in the muted lighting. “I’m thriving, Brant, I really am. I feel so independent and alive and…” She hesitates, licking her lips. “And if you ever wanted to visit me, I think…I think that would be okay. It would be really good to see you.”
Christ, I want to cry.
She’s telling me she’s thriving. She’s flourishing.
She’s living on her own, chasing her dreams just like she’d intended to do.
She’s telling me she still loves me, and maybe we can make it work.
I love you, too. I love you so goddamn much.
It would be so easy to pack my bags and fly across the country to sweep her off her feet. It’s what I want to do with every fiber of my being. Images of doing that very thing heat my blood as I think about our first meeting. Our first hug. Our first kiss.
I wonder how long we’d last before she was naked and moaning as I sank deep inside her.
But it’s only been nine months.
And judging by the love-laced look twinkling back at me like bright blue skies, I don’t think she’s ready yet. I don’t think we’re ready.
My relationship with her parents is still rocky. Andrew hasn’t spoken to me since his fist landed on my jaw and his words sliced me to the bone. Samantha has been more merciful, checking in on me and emailing me family updates.
But I haven’t seen them since that day. I haven’t seen them face-to-face, and if I can’t even look them in the eyes yet, I have no business pursuing their daughter.
I refuse to set us up for failure.
She must notice the way my face falls, and the way my eyes dim as I fumble for a response that doesn’t sound completely hopeless. June lets out the barest sigh, just a little breath of disappointment. She nods, a silent response to my own, and is then interrupted by a slender redhead.
“June, you’re taking forever. Our ride is wait—” The woman does a double take into the phone, her eyebrows arching with interest. “Oh, hello,” she says to me, an appreciative grin curling.
I blink. “Hey.”
She nudges June with her shoulder. “Who is that?”
“He’s…” June’s voice trails off, fading into the night.
And I wait.
I wait for her answer because I have absolutely no idea what that answer is.
I’m not her brother. I’m not her boyfriend.
To most, I’m nothing but a mistake.
June glances at me in the screen, her smile flickering. “He’s important,” she settles on. “I’ll be right there.” The girl shrugs and tosses her purse over her shoulder, skipping out of frame.