June must have heard my voice, because when her hands land on the box, her eyes shoot up to me. And then she frowns, those brows pulling so tightly together they are practically touching. I smile and cross the street.
She backs toward her door, saying, “No, no, no! Why do you keep showing up at my house at the crack of dawn?”
“We need to go to the store to get the food for tonight. But, June”—I’m rushing up the front steps to catch her—“I swear, if you shut another door in my face…”
“Go to the store without me, Ryan!” She turns around quickly before I can look at her face.
June is the physical embodiment of Katy Perry’s song where I’m concerned. Hot and then cold. She’s telling me to get lost, but she leaves the door wide open after she storms inside. One minute she seems into me, texting me she was jealous of the girls I’d bring around in high school, and the next, she’s running away like I’m coming at her with fangs bared.
“I don’t want to go to the store without you,” I say, stepping through the front door and closing it behind me.
She turns around again and tries to dart to her room, but my voice stops her. “June! Wait. Please.” She slowly turns to face me, but zeroes in on the floor. Apparently, it’s the most interesting floor in the world, because she won’t turn her attention from it. “Look at me, June.”
“No.”
“Why? I don’t get why you’re so skittish around me sometimes.” I understand that there used to be bad blood between us, but that’s gone now, and I know it. We had a good time making donuts together on Wednesday. She smiled. We flirted. There’s a different reason she’s so hot and cold.
“Because you’re always showing up when I don’t want you to. Would it have killed you to give me even just a five-minute warning?”
“Surprise is the spice of life.”
She scoffs at my joke. “I disagree.” Now she’s shrinking—physically shrinking—under my gaze. Her shoulders are slumping in, and she’s crossing her arms and tucking her chin down. It’s so opposite from the strong June I know. “Are we done with this chat? Because I need to go.”
“Go where?”
“I don’t know, Cabo?”
“June.”
She finally looks at me—or rather, lets me look at her. Her eyes are literal daggers. “I just want to go put my makeup on, okay? Quit being such a jerk all the time.”
“I’m being a jerk? By trying to get you to look in my eyes instead of the floor?”
“You can clearly tell I don’t want to, and you’re pushing it! So yeah, that makes you a jerk.”
She stomps away, and I’m not too proud of it, but my eyes catch on her perfect butt for three full seconds before I go after her. Tiny pictures of Nick Lachey are printed all over her shorts, and he’s never looked so hot to me. “You don’t need makeup.”
A mirthless laugh escapes her. “Gosh, I hate hearing lines like that from men. They’re so untrue. You heard it in a romance movie, so you’re repeating it.”
“Not true. Stop walking for a second,” I say, but she doesn’t even slow a bit. I’m forced to jog to catch up with her as she races through her room toward her bathroom.
“Ughhh, Ryan, you’re like an annoying puppy following me around everywhere!”
“What’s gotten into you since Wednesday? I thought we were getting along better.”
She puts her hands over her face and sounds way more frustrated with me than the situation warrants. “Ryan, I swear to Dolly Parton that if you do not get out of my bathroom right now, I will burn you with my curling iron.”
“That’s it.” And that’s the last thing I say before I scoop her up in my arms. She squeals as I carry her into the walk-in shower.
“What the hell are you doing?! Put me down!”
I get us both in the shower and position us under the showerhead, one hand on the nozzle. “Tell me why you’re being so rude or else I blast us both with cold water.”
I don’t particularly want to douse myself in icy water, but I will if I have to. I have a feeling that everyone in June’s life lets her hide away, keep all her secrets pinned up inside so she can hurt privately. Not me. I’m not as nice as them.
“You’ve lost your mind,” she says, but she’s not squirming anymore.
“Tell me, or we both freeze.”
Her green eyes bounce up to mine, and I see her stubbornness lurking like a shield. She lifts her chin and wraps her arm more firmly around my neck like she’s settling in for battle. “Do it. I’m not afraid of a little cold water. And there’s nothing to tell. I’m just annoyed that you keep showing up as if I want you around!”
I gave her a chance. I really did.
I wouldn’t be surprised if the neighbors call the cops from the scream that June releases when the ice water hits her skin. Unfortunately, she’s not the only one getting punished, because I’m the one standing under it holding her.
“Okay, you doused me! Now, turn it off!” She’s reaching for the faucet, so I turn us around so she can’t reach it. Except—super—now I’m taking the brunt of the spray.
“Not until you tell me the truth.”
“You’re infuriating.” She beats my chest as water drips down both of our faces. She’s getting heavy, and I realize that my grip on her is soft enough that if she wanted to, she could easily escape. But I don’t think she does. In fact, one of her arms is still wrapped tightly around my neck. She’s not going anywhere, and part of me wonders if she’s hanging on because she wants me to get the truth out of her.
“Please just tell me, June. What happened? I want to know.” I look at her eyes and notice that it’s not just water rolling down June’s face.
Her body sags against me. The final thread of her resistance toward me snaps. “My ex posted on Instagram this morning that he’s getting married. I guess it…triggered some old wounds. Are you happy now?”
I cut the water off and slowly set her feet on the ground, expecting her to bolt, but she doesn’t. We are both freezing, our bodies shaking and miserable, but neither of us moves. Her hair is wet and clinging to her face, much like her clothes are clinging to her body, but I don’t look. Because that’s not why I pulled us in here.
“Do you miss him?” I ask, but I’m not sure I actually want to hear the answer.
