The back of my neck heats from the bright lights as I approach the stage, and she takes a step back. I don’t bother with the stairs and, instead, take one big step up—directly in front of June. She looks like a trapped animal now with big alert eyes. I walk closer and take her by surprise when I wrap my jacket around her shoulders. She was anticipating danger and got warmth instead.
“What are you doing?” she asks, looking down dramatically to the jacket. Her mind is moving too slow to figure out what’s happening.
“It’s cold outside, and I don’t want you to freeze when we leave.” I put my arm around her, escorting her from the stage so she doesn’t face-plant. The second we are off the stairs, she rips away from me and stumbles backward.
“Everyone wants a performance, and if you’re too good to sing at karaoke night, then I’ll do it!” It’s adorable how powerful she thinks she looks right now. I could pick her up off the ground by my index finger and thumb and place her in my pocket.
“You can perform next time. Right now, it’s time to get you home safely.”
“Ugh! I need to karaoke!” is what I think she was trying to say. But really, it came out like “Hiineedtofereokie!”
“Can you remember your address?” I say, guiding her toward the table where Stacy and Logan are watching with drunken-confused expressions. They’re trying to figure out what new game this is too.
I toss Alex’s phone back on the table in front of him and retrieve June’s heels. Stacy beams up at us as we walk past her. “BYE, JUNIE! I love you SO much.”
No one will remember this night tomorrow.
June sways heavily, so I tighten my grip around her shoulders. She’s seconds away from passing out on the ground, and I care about her too much to let her catch Ebola from this nasty floor. Also, Izod Man has been eyeing her all night. I don’t trust him one bit not to follow her out of here. This bar crawl is officially over, and I’m going to make sure June is safely placed in her home.
“LOVE YOU, RYAN!” Can you guess who yells that at me right before I leave the bar? Yeah, it’s Logan. Apparently, I’m not the only one who shouldn’t be drinking heavily in his thirties.
“Night, everyone. Logan, call an Uber for you and Stacy,” I say before I scoop June up in my arms and carry her out of the bar as she yells that I stink the whole way to the door.
Chapter 4 Ryan
I get June into my car after a long trek to the parking lot. I’m sweating even though June is wearing my jacket. This woman has zero care for the workout I just endured carrying her to my car, because the second I start it, June opens the door and jumps out. She chases a plastic bag floating on the wind through the parking lot, nearly getting hit by a car before I manage to catch her. When we are once again situated safely inside the vehicle, I buckle her up and give three-sheets-to-the-wind June a pointed stay put look. She giggles and slumps over in her seat.
I can’t help but wonder if June always drinks this much. But somehow, I know the answer is no (probably because she was already tipsy halfway through her first one). I think I’m the reason for her overindulgence tonight, and I want to find out why.
She’s docile now. A tiger shot with a tranquilizer and about to pass out against the window. I need to find out her address before she’s so far gone that we both have to sleep in this car until she sobers up and can tell me where to go. June leans her head against the glass, balls her hand up under her chin, and lets out a whimper. It’s a pitiful sound. My jacket is still around her shoulders, swallowing her whole. Her mascara is a little smudged under her eyes, and there is only the faintest tint of red on her lips now. She looks like she’s gone through the wringer, and I doubt that this is the look she intended to portray tonight when she was getting in my face with how successful she is. Still, I like that I get to be the one to take care of her like this—also that I’m the one to make her come a little undone.
I’ve been doing nothing but running through the paces of my life these past twelve years. I go from achievement to achievement, turning over stones and trying to find something under them. I don’t know what that something is yet because I’ve never found it. I just keep moving to the next stone.
But seeing June again tonight—sensing that spark ignite between us again—it has me pausing. It feels like my heart is trying to kick back to life. And I know she’s aware of it too. Evidence being that she has drunk herself into oblivion just trying to keep busy and avoid making eye contact with me all night.
Yeah, but I saw you stealing glances at me, June.
Something is there. I feel it. I just need to play her game and peel back the layers of her hate to find it.
When I ask for June’s address, she mumbles a few incoherent words and swats her hand in my direction like she’s trying to get me to shut up so she can sleep. I give up and let her pass out. Reaching into her purse, I pull out her phone and open the maps app. Luckily, she has her address saved under home, and I start the directions.
Ten minutes later, I’m pulling up in front of a small white bungalow. I cut the engine and walk around the car to help June out. She stumbles a bit, her legs moving more like spaghetti noodles than functioning limbs, so I pick her up and carry her to the front door. I pause outside the bright, teal-colored door and realize I have no idea if she lives with anyone or not.
Surely, if she had a boyfriend, he would have come with her tonight? And I know she’s not married, because you better believe the first thing I did when I saw her again was assess her ring finger. Well, it was almost the first thing I assessed on her.
I could kick the door to see if someone answers, but I’ve always enjoyed being a risk-taker, so I’ll take my chances. I set June on the ground beside the door. Her head rolls back to rest against the siding while I scoop up her clutch and start digging through it. Annnnnd I’ve sailed right past gallant knight and pushed straight into creepy guy, because I take my time, making a mental note of the contents I stumble over. There’s nothing exciting, though. Some gum, her credit card and ID, a tube of lipstick, a hair tie, a guy’s phone number (oops, it flutters right out of my fingers and into the wind), her cellphone, and keys.
After unlocking the front door, I scoop June up again and carry her through, amused at how much she would recoil at the idea of her greatest enemy carrying her over the threshold of her home like a syrupy-sweet couple, fresh from the wedding chapel. I consider placing a band on her ring finger just to mess with her when she wakes up.
Once we’re inside, I use my foot to shut the door behind us, plunging us into darkness. Truthfully, at the start of this evening, I might have briefly imagined taking June back to her place at the end of it. Needless to say, my fantasy looked MUCH different from this.
I flip a switch and turn on the lights. June’s house is simple but comfortable. I like it. It’s completely opposite of my apartment in Chicago. Where mine is all dark furniture, hard surfaces, and a sprawling view of the city, June has a plush yellow couch, a midcentury coffee table, a thriving fiddle-leaf fig tree that proves she remembers to water it, and picture frames full of her smiling with friends and family.
Also…wait. Is that a throw pillow with Nick Lachey’s face on it? Yep. Definitely is. More disturbing, I think there’s a blanket folded up on the end of the couch to match it. I’d go check, but honestly, I’m scared. I’m not ready to find out that June is a secret Nick Lachey mega-groupie and has been clipping letters out of magazines to send him creepy fan mail all these years. Better to assume there’s a reasonable explanation and move on.
Besides seeing Lachey’s face on way too many surfaces, the whole vibe in here makes me want to kick off my shoes, unbutton my cuffs, roll up my sleeves, sink into that couch, and sleep until noon tomorrow. It’s an urge I can’t say I’ve ever had when looking at my black leather couch. But something tells me that if I did sleep here tonight, I would wake up in the morning to June hovering over my body with a butcher knife. So instead, I make my way through her house, passing a bathroom, an office, and a kitchen before finding her room.
I turn on the light and smile at the ruffled coral throw pillows on her bed. No man lives here. And there wasn’t a single framed photo of her with any dudes, so I don’t think she has a boyfriend. I think I’m cheating in our game right now. I’m behind enemy lines, getting an eyeful of her battle plans.
And if June’s plans have anything to do with the lacy blue bra I see hanging on her bathroom door, I’m a goner. But I’m also a gentleman, so I don’t look at that bra above four times before I set June on her bed and make my way to her dresser. I pull out a cotton T-shirt and some PJ shorts and toss them onto her lap. She’s still sitting up, but her eyes are shut, shoulders sagging.
“Put those on and yell when you’re dressed.”
Her heavy eyelids crack open, and she frowns. “I don’t like you.”
“Yeah, I got that.” I shove my hands into my pockets.
“I don’t think you do.” Her words are still slurring heavily, but I understand her perfectly. Her hair is hanging over one of her shoulders, and she’s sitting on the edge of her bed, wearing my suit jacket like a blanket. It looks way too good on her. “I haaaaaate you.”
“Why?” I ask, knowing I shouldn’t but also unable to resist getting this unfiltered truth.
She lifts a shoulder and drops it. “Because it’s what we’ve always done. Hate each other.”
She’s right, and the realization makes me oddly sad. June and I fought over everything in high school. We had no choice but to be around each other often since our best friends were dating, but we made it a point during those forced hangouts to annoy each other as much as possible. If June wanted to go to the movies, I convinced everyone we should go bowling. If I planned a New Year’s Eve party, she planned a bigger, better one. If Stacy and Logan convinced us all to have a friends dinner (meaning just the four of us), I would bring a date to rile June up. All of this, plus at least a hundred harmless pranks.
Yeah, thinking back, I wasn’t the nicest guy in the world to June. The thing is, my pestering was never done out of spite. It was the only way I could get her to pay attention to me. And I wanted her attention on me.
“But worst of all…” Her sleepy words break through my thoughts. “I tipped my chin up to you, and you walked away.”
“Tipped your chin up? What are you talking about?” I step a little closer.
She falls onto her side to bury her head in her pillow. The hem of her little black dress hikes up an extra inch, and suddenly, it feels wrong standing here in her room without her sober permission—wrong to see her picture frames, and her throw pillows, and hear her honest thoughts. I’m an uninvited guest, staying late to a party I wasn’t even invited to in the first place. I needed to get her home safely, and I did. Time to go.
I cross the room to stand next to June’s bed and pull her comforter up over her. Looks like she’s going to be sleeping in that dress tonight.
I’m just about to leave the room when June’s mumbling words stop me. “On graduation day, I wanted you to kiss me, but you walked away.”
Wait, what? My head spins. Her hatred for me now is because I didn’t kiss her that night? Does that mean she didn’t hate me back then? Was she just playing the same game I was?
—
After I’ve lingered beside her way too long, and maybe even brushed her hair out of her face, I let myself out. But I continue to wonder what life would have been like if I hadn’t walked away.
What if I’d kissed her that day?
Would I be sleeping next to her tonight?
Would I be happier than I am now?
