Chapter 18
June
It was Saturday. Our first session together since…the kissing event.
I hadn’t seen Oliver since Thursday, which was my first public, sober, social gathering in fuck knows how long. The frat party was one thing; that was all alcohol and acting. But having real conversations with a girl I wanted to befriend was hard, and Nature Club was a weird step for me. A disaster, truthfully, because I retracted into myself as I always do, despite wishing I could connect.
I had forced myself to go, after all. I had shown up intending to make a friend. And what did I do? I tried to leave and, after failing to do so, I closed myself off to cover up my discomfort. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so awkward and out of place. I was just so other. They were them, and I was other.
The other one over there. Oh, yeah, we’re a group, and she’s the other girl. She’s the other one who decided to show up today. She didn’t really click with us, but she did other things.
The worst part was that I actually liked Tiff and Jonah. Noah was funny, too. The kicker? That was Oliver’s best fucking friend group. He had what I didn’t, and that made me jealous.
I had spent the entire night and the following day thinking about how much they must have hated me. I had damned myself for not saying more, for not having my own comfortable friend group. But now, it was 4:00 p.m. on Saturday, and I attempted to wipe the anxiety from my brain and prepare for battle.
I strolled into the library in the tightest, most self-denying jeans I could find in my closet. Of course, I was also wearing a red, low-cut shirt, and my hair was perfectly blown out, but that’s beside the point. I wasn’t wearing a skirt because I wasn’t going to fall for Oliver’s little games.
He was already working with his head down when I approached. My eyes narrowed at him rudely as I slapped my books on the table. He immediately looked up, eyed my lower half, and cocked his jaw, nodding to himself before directing his focus back to the laptop in front of him.
My eyebrows caved in. What the fuck was that reaction? Why didn’t he say hi to me? Was he being an asshole because I didn’t wear a stupid little skirt? Fucking jerk.
I jutted my chin out like a chicken. “Hello?”
“Hi.”
That was it. Nothing more. My eyes gaped as I sank into my seat and crossed my arms. The fucking audacity of this guy.
“That’s it?” I asked, not entirely sure what I even meant by it. All I knew was that one word from Oliver in twenty seconds was below average and, while he often ignored me, this ignoring seemed far more intentional. Why wasn’t he paying more attention to me?
“Mhm.” His mumble was so cold, so distant.
What the hell? He actually seemed upset. Like so upset that he didn’t even want to play our game today. Did he really care that I wasn’t wearing clothes that made it easy to finger me? No, that couldn’t have been it. Oliver was an asshole, but not an asshole-asshole. Had I done something else?
In an instant, my prickly, hot, frustration subsided and I felt something much more like the cold tip of a sword sinking into my chest. Fuck, it hurt. Oliver was mad at me. Not debate mad. Not classroom rivals mad. For real mad. I didn’t like the way it felt.
My voice was much flimsier than I’d intended when I asked, “Why?”
His fingers froze on his keyboard as he slowly turned to look at me. I couldn’t decipher the little dip in his eyebrows nor the tightness of his jaw. What he was thinking could’ve been anyone’s guess. It could’ve been that he was about to yell at me, that he was about to tell me to fuck off, or that he was about to tell me he never wanted to see me again.
Of all the options he had, he said, “Tell me what I did wrong.”
What the fuck?
“Youtell me what I did wrong.” He was the one acting weird. Not me. “Why are you mad?”
“Because I’m human, June, and our conversation on Thursday night made me upset. Your turn.”
Oh. Fucking great. That’s what this was about. The cold sword quickly retreated from my heart. Suddenly, I was pissed again. As if Thursday wasn’t hard enough for me, as if I weren’t already anxious about how Tiff felt about me, now I had to worry about Oliver’s feelings too. Not to mention my own. Not to mention that night made me never want to leave my room again.
I looked toward the bookshelves, observing a large red tome sticking out from the rest. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“You didn’t want to speak to me on Thursday.” Fuck. If he kept being so communicative and concise, I’d have to face up to it all. “I want to know why.”
I scoffed, my attention now on the much shorter, orange book right next to the red one. “I never want to speak to you, Oliver.”
“Fabulous, June. Great tactic.” He closed his laptop, lifting a hand in front of himself. I watched him in my peripherals as he leaned forward in his seat. “What do I need to do, June? I don’t fucking understand, and I’m sorry for not knowing, but the least I can do is ask and try. What do I need to do to get through to you?”
“Oh! Now you’re trying to get through to me?” I slammed my hands on the table and shot up from my chair, sending the ugliest glare I could manage his way. “You too, Oliver?!” For three years, three years, my parents had tried to get through to me, to get me to be normal.
“I don’t know what that means, June! I don’t know you well enough. I’m trying to, but you won’t let me.” He stood as well, softening his voice. My legs trembled violently, my skin red-hot and smothered by the bright lights of the library. “I’m just asking for some context. I know I said something wrong and I’d like to fix it. It was about the color red.” He tossed a hand out to the side and looked at the ground shamefully. “Red velvet.”
“Do not! I don’t want to fucking talk about it!”
If he had bothered to stop making stupid fucking jokes for ten fucking seconds on Thursday, he might’ve actually heard what I had to say about red fucking velvet. But, instead, he stomped all over my meager attempt to open up even the slightest bit.
Whatever. It was fucking stupid anyway.
I grabbed my things in an angry flurry and spun off to walk out of the building, the cloud of rage around me thick and suffocating as I decided we could do without today’s session. I was less than ten steps away from rounding the bookshelf that shielded our nook from the rest of the library when I was jerked back suddenly by Oliver’s thick hand in the waistband of my jeans. I hugged my belongings as tightly as I could to keep from dropping them because if I freed up my hands, I knew exactly where they would land. While I was pissed at the guy, I certainly didn’t need to turn around and shove him as I so desperately wanted to.
The corner of my plastic binder bit into my palm. My breathing became impossible to control. Loud. Hot. Deep. The library started to spin, and all I saw was fog. I no longer noticed Oliver behind me nor did I understand exactly how much time was passing as I stood there. I was gone.
That is, I was gone until I felt two hands reach around my shoulders. I looked down, vaguely registering Oliver’s large fingers pressing into my collarbone, his body lurking at my back.
“I—” He began to speak before pausing and clearing his throat. He tapped my bones with his fingers a few times and squeezed my shoulders in his hands. It was suddenly a few degrees cooler, and my mind was far too occupied with the strangely pleasing touch to remember how upset I just was. “I, uhm, read a lot about anxiety and stuff. For Jonah. I don’t… I don’t know if this is helping, but I’ve read that it can. Please tell me if it’s not.”
Damn, that’s…sweet, actually.
It was curious and strange and very new, but I said nothing. I returned my stare to the empty haze in front of me without protest.
I am such a fucking asshole.
◆◆◆
Oli
June looked around herself, though her red eyes were dimming. I wasn’t sure she was seeing anything at all. I don’t think I was helping but, fuck, I was desperate to. In mere seconds she’d gone from snippy, to sad, to furious, to outright disconnected from this plane, and it hadn’t been my intention to provoke it. Not this time.
“June.” I spun her toward me and placed my hands on either side of her head. She was on fire. “June. You’re burning up.”
“I’m fine,” she whispered, her gaze finally focusing somewhere on my face. Perhaps my nose.
She was not fine.
Shit. I wasn’t trying to make her upset. It’s just that she obviously had no interest in me on Thursday and now she was here wearing fucking pants. A rejection. She was wearing a rejection. So, I was the asshole who had kissed her when she didn’t want it. I was the guy who ruined our already fragile dynamic to the point that she couldn’t even be near me without getting angry. I hated myself for it.
“June, I’m sorry. We don’t need to get into it if you don’t want to. I just want us to be good.”
She closed her eyes, her teeth clenching beneath my palms as she slowly came back down to earth. “I, uhm…”
“It’s okay.”
“No, I… I can be better. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.” I wasn’t sure if she said that to me or to herself. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes again. “Thursday was hard for me. I’m s—” She looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry.”
I nodded and released her face, taking her things from her hands and returning them to our table before approaching her once again. She didn’t lift her gaze as she padded quietly, closing the minimal space between us and clunking her head onto my chest. It seemed like she wanted a hug, but I wasn’t sure. Absolutely no part of our academic relationship thus far had indicated she’d want anything even remotely close to a hug from me, so I was at a loss for what to do. I left my arms by my sides.
After a few seconds, she moved her hand under my right arm and pushed it behind herself, urging me silently to wrap it around her shoulders. I did, and then she repeated the movement on my left arm.
A hug. The beautiful girl did want a hug.
I wrapped my arms around her tightly, and she rubbed her head into my front in a way that cracked me in half. She was the most precious thing. The weirdest, most confusing, most intelligent, most perfect, most precious thing. She eased her arms in between us, let her hands sail up my shirt until they hooked over my shoulders, and tugged lightly. I picked her up. She wrapped her legs around my waist and hugged me tighter.
I still had many questions when it came to June’s feelings, but this hug couldn’t be faked. This closeness couldn’t be fabricated. If only for a moment, here and now, she was completely mine.
“I’m sorry it was hard for you,” I whispered.
“Can we erase Thursday?”
I nodded, sinking my nose into her collar. I would’ve consented to absolutely anything she asked. The feel of her wrapped around me, her body, her perfume, her voice, everything enveloped me as I squeezed her. It was the closest I’d ever felt to her, and it was the most comforting, most home-like place I’d ever been. Despite the way this moment came about, it was quickly becoming my favorite of all.
“Can we erase this, too?”
Oh.
I paused, holding back on the nod I knew I’d eventually give her. “I was, uhm…” Kind of enjoying this. “Hey, June, can you look at me?”
I pulled my face from her neck, and she did the same. I needed some insight into what the hell she was thinking. Obviously, she was keeping a wall up in front of something monumental, but what did that mean for us? Did erasing this mean erasing everything and going back to normal? Did the jeans really mean she didn’t want me, or was I the most ridiculous and most childish man alive for thinking a pair of pants was some sort of declaration?
Her brown eyes appeared deep and utterly distraught, but she glanced away, denying me the ability to get a good look.
“Just say yes,” she said. “Say yes, and then put me down, and then say something shallow to piss me off like you always do.” She shrugged. “I just function better that way.”
I blinked twice, digesting it all. My beautiful, broken June. She could erase these moments all she wanted, but I was going to hold onto them forever.
I finally nodded and placed her down, forcing myself to conjure up the same smug look that had pulled her frustration to the surface in the past.
“You look pretty today,” I said with as much cockiness as I could muster. “Are you trying to torture me?”
She snapped back to herself immediately, brushing past me to go to her seat. “Funny.”
It was still unclear to me where exactly we stood, if hitting on her was what she wanted, or if it would cross one of her boundaries. She seemed to be back to normal though, so I tried once more. “You know, I was hoping for a skirt. But I guess those jeans are fine too. They look incredible from the back.”
She stopped in her tracks with one hand on the back of her chair, ready to pull it out. Instead of sitting herself down, she marched right back up to me, grabbed my neck, and tugged me into a kiss. While there was obviously much more to uncover here, I certainly couldn’t complain about that.