Page 198 of June First
Before I can reply, someone else pops into the camera. A man, probably the same age as June. He’s lanky with shoulder-length black hair and a beanie on his head. He grabs June by the wrist, trying to tug her back to the group. “C’mon, Bailey, we miss you.”
His bold eyes case her gorgeous face, trailing her curves as flirtation glimmers in his stare. As he sweeps his hand up and down her arm, she throws him an awkward smile and pulls free.
He wants her.
I wonder if he’s had her.
And the thought makes me want to fucking die.
Traffic and car horns mingle with static as June walks farther away from the group, holding the phone closer to her face. She nibbles her lip again. “Sorry about that. I, uh… I should get going. The gang is waiting.”
“Of course,” I say, hoping I don’t sound as pathetic as I feel. “Happy birthday, Junebug. Be safe, and send me a text in the morning so I know you got home okay.”
“I will.” She smiles warmly. “Thank you.” June falters for a moment, her gaze slipping to the right, then back toward me. “Celeste made me a birthday cake. And when I blew out my candles, I made a wish. It was the same wish I made on my ninth birthday and every birthday since.”
I stare at her, my chest swelling with emotion—burning, aching, stinging, as if that emotion is trapped inside with no way out. Heaving in a hard breath, I nod. “Good night.”
“Good night, Brant.”
A ribbon of hair floats into her face, catching on her ruby lips, and it almost looks like she’s about to cry.
But she doesn’t.
She clicks off the call just as her name is shouted from behind her, and my screen goes blank.
I sit on my couch for a few minutes, missing the sound of her voice.
Missing everything.
Then I drag myself to bed and prepare for another day without her.
“I wish that we can be together forever.”
“Forever, huh?”
“Forever and ever.”
I bet you’re still wondering if June’s wish came true.
Well, we’re not quite to the end of the story yet.
But we’re getting close.
Things were looking pretty grim at this point, and for as much as I wanted June to thrive and prosper, the more she settled into her exciting life in New York City, the more I felt like she was slipping through my fingers.
We still talked regularly, sometimes daily.
She sent me selfies in front of every rainbow.
We still looked at each other with that same potent mix of longing, pain, and heartrending love.
But it wasn’t enough.
It would never be enough.
And as the days bled into months and another year passed us by, I wondered if I’d missed my chance. I wondered if our forever was just out of reach.
Luckily, things started looking up shortly after June’s twenty-first birthday. I had my first brush with hope.