Chapter 20
June, Saturday
Three knocks sounded about my dorm room. I opened the door, coming face to chest with Oliver as I smeared my hands over my skirt nervously. He wore his usual black trousers and white Converse, though there was no flannel or T-shirt to be found. Instead, he wore a black, knit sweater. The collar of a white dress shirt peeked out around his neck, and his beard appeared to have been trimmed.
He looked…good.
“This is about as formal as I get clothing-wise,” he said, observing me as I observed him. I caught myself imagining what he might look like in a suit. Far too good. It was for the best, then, that this was his finest ensemble.
I looked down at my black sweater and black and white plaid skirt. We matched perfectly, which was honestly a little irritating. “Do you think it’s okay? I don’t have much here. Oh, fuck! And the skirt, it’s… I… I didn’t know how formal it would be. It’s not because… I wasn’t insinuating—”
“It’s perfect, June.” His eyes trailed over me intently, x-raying my insides if I didn’t know any better. “You’re…annoyingly perfect.”
The car Oliver’s father sent was too new and clean, the upholstery so unused that it had that very potent leather smell which only made me feel woozier as the ride got longer. Thankfully, Oliver didn’t seem to mind sitting in a not-so-uncomfortable silence, so I stared out the window, watching the world as it moved around us. He probably had a lot to think about anyway. I had a feeling tonight was going to be tough for him.
The highway we drove down turned into an off-ramp which turned into some sort of crossings in a town center. As we moved further and further along, the town got smaller and smaller. I glanced at Oliver. He perked up a couple of times as he looked pointedly at certain houses and landmarks.
“Kai’s old house,” he said quietly as we passed a tiny, blue abode. The paint fell off of it in chips, and the metal fence outside was twisted and useless.
“Jonah’s house,” he then said a bit later as we drove by a pretty home with a stone walkway leading up to a beautiful stoop. There was a car in the driveway, which he focused on. I wondered if he wished he could stop by.
From the very small bits I’d gathered about his childhood here, it was a whole lot of kicking around town, drinking energy drinks, and using digital cameras, but when we finally hit the long driveway to Oliver’s house, the small town image completely crumbled. His driveway was more like a full street made exclusively for his family to get in and out, cutting through dirt and rock and leading up to a…mansion. I glanced back out the rear window to ensure we hadn’t just slipped through some kind of portal. Oliver’s living space was a far cry from Kai’s, and I genuinely wondered how the two could exist in the same town. Though I guess it just goes to show…
The drive stretched the entire width of the facade of the white house, which was somehow clean despite being surrounded by dusty hills. Perhaps they had someone for that.
Oliver made haste in grabbing both my backpack and his, swinging them over one shoulder as he stood. I exited the vehicle as well. The driver parked and simply sat there. Was the poor guy going to wait for us? Oliver’s hand gripped just above my elbow, moving me along and helping me up the steps to his home as if he expected me to trip on my heeled booties. He opened the ornate, grayish-blue door and allowed me in first, glancing around himself, checking for danger. When he shut the door behind us, I bent down to take off my shoes, but he shook his head and pulled me straight back up.
“Don’t,” he said.
“I…” I looked around at the sparkling white foyer, at the winding staircase. The house looked like an ice castle. “I don’t know how to act.”
“I don’t fucking know. How do you usually act around rich people?” My shoulders fell at his sharp tone, and he sighed. “I’m sorry, June. I’m sorry.” He leaned in to kiss my forehead.
I jumped away quickly, checking to make sure his family hadn’t seen us. “We’re not in private, Oliver.” Not to mention, since when did he do sweet things like forehead kisses? Sure, I hugged him. Once. But that was a moment of weakness and totally different.
He rubbed a thick hand over his face, squeezing his eyes shut. “They’re from Fulham, June, not Mars. Just be a normal person. Act like you’re at a high-end restaurant. Shoes on, touching is fine, and if they get mean, just stay quiet and let it play out.”
“But—”
“Juni, this is not your home. It is mine. Please.” He held up a hand. Conversation over.
I nodded silently, catching the slightest softness in his eyes and the smallest dip in his lashes. It quickly dissipated, so I switched gears, tugging on the backpacks strung on his shoulder. His eyebrows furrowed as he leaned down, allowing me to unzip my bag and reach in. I pulled out a box of sweets I’d purchased earlier this morning.
“Did you bring something?” he asked quietly. He seemed entirely confused by the fact.
“Of course, I did.” I closed my bag. Did he really think I’d show up with nothing?
He grabbed the box from my fingers, turning it around to read the nutrition label and ingredients, inspecting it as if to make sure the gold writing on it was fancy enough. “Fine.” He handed it back to me without even a glance in my direction.
“Oli, are you okay?” I touched a hand to his beard, considering he’d said I could, but he jerked away.
Mmmkay. That was an obvious no.
His breathing went completely silent as he stared ahead of himself. I followed his line of vision. Oh, wow. Two of the most strikingly beautiful people I’d ever seen were sauntering toward us, their forms perhaps more elegant than the house. Sure, I’d seen them in that one picture on Oliver’s Facebook page, but here in person, they were…something else.
I first observed his mother, who was absolutely stunning, her long black hair and long black dress swaying on a graceful breeze I couldn’t feel myself. The crystals hanging from her ears matched the ones in the chandelier above our heads. Surely, she couldn’t have done that on purpose, could she have?
The man next to her was unfairly handsome, his brown and gray hair pushed back into a similar style as Oliver’s, but not a whisker on that smooth, tan chin. His gray suit and black tie played perfectly on his counterpart’s dress, and I was suddenly embarrassed about the fact that I was wearing a fucking plaid skirt. I hoped it was at least long enough.
“Oliver, sweetheart!” The woman held out her hands, taking Oliver’s shoulders in her grip to kiss his cheek eagerly, jittering with excitement. Her accent was...mostly English, though not entirely. Like she’d lived here in California long enough that it was subtly mixed.
“Hi, Mom.” His gaze was drawn to the floor but a few feet out. I couldn’t pinpoint what he was staring at.
“And you must be June!” she said happily.
I absolutely did not want a cheek kiss, nor did I want to fuck up this greeting, so I simply nodded, said hello, and held out the box, ensuring some space between us.
She received it graciously. “You can call me Alizha.” And she had called me June. Not only had Oliver told his parents about me, he’d presented me as June. Not whiz kid. Not Juni.
Alizha placed a hand on her husband’s arm, who nodded shortly and said with what sounded to me like a full English accent, “Oliver.”
Oliver nodded back. “Sir.”
Ah. I get it now.
“June brought us this nice gift,” Alizha said, rubbing her hand on the man’s shoulder and holding up the box as if he hadn’t literally just seen me give it to her.
I was about to wish him a happy birthday, but the look he pinned me with shut me right up. He blinked once in my direction, offering no thanks, and looked back at Oliver. “At least it’s a woman this time.”
With that, he spun off, walking back across the foyer into what I assumed was the dining room. Oliver’s mother patted her son on the chest kindly and sent me an awkward smile before rushing after her husband. I hoped she was on her way to tell him how fucking rude that was. I wished I could’ve told him myself, but making a scene would only make this all worse. I tried to curl my fingers around Oliver’s elbow, but he simply turned to ascend the stairs. I scuttled behind him.
Oliver’s bedroom was oddly what I expected it to be, judging by his dorm room. It was spotless, with a strict gray color scheme and very few visible possessions. I wondered if he wanted it that way, or if he would’ve preferred to have some band posters and instruments. I bet he would’ve liked that.
He didn’t say a word as he set our backpacks down on the floor, pulled his laptop out, and sat on the carpet with his back up against the foot of his bed. I was unsure of what to do. He seemed to get sucked into his work. Was I supposed to work too? He was upset, and I could understand that, but I was standing here in the middle of an unknown home with no direction. He had to give me something here. Telling me to keep my shoes on and keep quiet wasn’t exactly enough instruction to go on.
“Were you, uhm…?” I fiddled with my fingers, looking around his clean room. “Where did you grow up?”
He looked up from his laptop and stared at me like I’d asked him if he’d ever murdered anyone. “Here.”
“Always?”
“London until I was two. Here until now. Get your laptop, and get to work.” He nudged his chin toward his spotless desk, encouraging me to take a seat at it.
“Shame you didn’t pick up on the accent or anything,” I teased awkwardly, hoping I could get some kind of laugh out of him. I pulled my things from my bag and sat down in the rolling chair by his desk. “I would’ve loved to make fun of your excessive use of the letter U.”
He looked at me, then down at the floor, his strict face softening into shame. “Juni, I don’t want to be rude to you right now, and I’m afraid I already have been. So, please, let’s just not talk for a bit.”
I nodded and opened my computer.
After an hour or so of working on our essay, I was feeling organized and confident that we were back on track with our project. I scrolled down to see how Oliver was doing on his half. Quite well, apparently. I put my cursor just under the sentence he was writing about Charlemagne.
Hi, I typed.
His sentence stopped growing for a moment and then resumed.
I deleted my previous message and typed a new one. Does the whole not-talking thing include not-typing?
His typing halted once again. He placed his cursor at the end of my sentence, typed yes, and then continued his work.
I sighed and shut my computer, swiveling around in the chair to face him. “That was pretty rude. What your father said.” I leaned back and crossed my right ankle over my left, my heel sinking into the carpet.
Oliver’s eyes snapped up to me, flames licking his lashes. “June, I kindly asked you for silence.”
“An hour ago,” I said as I stood. I kneeled in front of him and pushed the top of his laptop down. Surprisingly, he didn’t stop me. He only swallowed and stared somewhere between my mouth and my neck. I slipped the computer out of his hands and set it on the bed behind him. “And since when have we ever been kind to each other?”
I sat down on my hip, leaning in his direction. He bent his legs up, propping his elbows on his knees and rubbing both hands over his face.
“He always says shit like that,” he said weakly.
“Are you…? I mean, do you like…?” A rude question to ask right now—if he was into guys—but he seemed to be cracking open ever so slightly, which meant I should’ve continued the conversation, right? I should’ve nurtured it? I didn’t really know what to say.
He looked me over, his face sagging with exhaustion. Without a word, he grabbed me by the hips and laid me out on his carpet. My heart thrummed in my chest as he kneeled between my legs and bent down, licking one long line up the inside of my bare thigh. I arched into the rug, sparks igniting in my core. His pierced tongue stopped just under the shadow of my skirt, and he took a soft bite of my skin. The tickle between my legs was unbearable. I needed him. I grabbed his head and pulled him up over me for a desperate kiss.
“Are you using my body to avoid your problems?” I asked into his lips.
“Yes.”
Perfectly fine. Frankly, he could do whatever the fuck he wanted with me. His piercing slid delicately over my tongue. I’d never experienced such a thing. He kept our kiss soft, slow, and languid, and I couldn’t help but imagine where else he could place that metal bead.
Just then, an elegant voice sounded from the hallway. “Oliver, sweetheart. Come downstairs for a bit! Your cousins are here.” While it caught my attention, I couldn’t bring myself to pull my lips away from Oliver’s. Our kiss was too delicious, and he was pressing himself between my legs, making me want to remain here underneath him forever.
“June,” he said into my mouth. “I am in a very, very bad mood.”
He said that like he wanted me to fix it. Like he wanted me to help him. I simply nodded, scratching my nails into his beard and kissing him once again. I had no idea how to give him whatever it was he needed.
“Oliver, sweetheart, yo—” His mother’s voice cut abruptly as she opened the door and found Oliver and me scattering. He rolled to the foot of his bed and picked up a pencil off the rug, observing it keenly. I frantically began doing sit-ups—or…attempting to do sit-ups—as I adjusted my skirt with two hands.
“And twenty,” I said, huffing out a breath as I finished out half an abdominal crunch. “Whoo! Really helps get those brain juices flowing. Oh, hi, Alizha!” I turned around innocently to Oliver’s mother who, judging by her facial expression, was far too intelligent for this show. Oliver buried his face in his hand to keep from exploding with laughter. It was humiliating, but at least that meant his mood had picked up a bit.
Oliver’s mother looked at me, then at Oliver, then back at me. “Well, you’re quick on your feet, darling. I’ll give you that.”
I smiled sheepishly, the contents of my body liquefying into pure mortification.
Oliver chuckled as he stood and pulled me up with two hands. “Excuse us. It won’t happen again.”
Alizha rolled her eyes. “Just don’t give your father a heart attack. I really don’t want to have to hear about it. Now come downstairs to see your cousins, and please save the sit-ups for when you’re back on campus.”
◆◆◆
Oli
It was subtle, but I noticed. I noticed the way my dad eyed my plate from across the dining room table and shook his head. What the fuck did he want me to do? Not eat dinner? I began reassessing my choices. Was there too much food on here?
Fuck. That’s embarrassing.
I glanced at June’s plate. Same amount.
I wanted to eat in my room alone, but my mother insisted I socialize at least for dinner. There were some twenty family members circled around the long table, whooping, mixing words, laughing, and gesturing. I considered excusing myself and bringing my food somewhere quiet, but I couldn’t leave June here.
“Oli, you haven’t touched your food. Is everything okay?” June whispered.
My gaze snapped to the right, and I realized I’d been staring open-mouthed at my meal for fuck knows how long. She crinkled her eyebrows and set her fork down. I cleared my throat and looked up. Both of my parents were watching us. Shit. The amount of prying eyes in this house made my skin crawl.
“Yeah, Juni. Everything’s fine.” I sank my fork into a piece of chicken, and so the avalanche began.
June said nothing during the next twenty minutes as I ate in silence, nor did she stop me when I reached for seconds. It was almost like she didn’t even notice. I couldn’t tell how that made me feel. Her disregard. It wasn’t rude or angry. It was just…nothing.
By the time the meal came to an end, I was filled from my feet to my crown and positively sure I couldn’t fit another bite. Still, I wondered where dessert was. I hoped they’d bring something out. A meal was never finished unless punctuated by something sweet. And it wasn’t just the sustenance or the flavor I needed. It was the full mouth, the texture. The insides of my body would not stop shrieking unless there was food pressed up to every inch of it. I needed big bites of something soft, the satisfying feeling of a swallow quickly rushed for the next mouthful.
They did bring dessert out, of course, and I hit my limit.
I did my best not to appear sluggish as I followed June back upstairs but, truthfully, I was just so fucking embarrassed. Eating myself sick was certainly not doing anything for the heated tension between us, and my guard was practically on the floor. I wouldn’t have been surprised if our kiss before heading downstairs to eat was the last one she’d ever give me. What I’d done was horrific. The only thing I wanted to do was crawl to the bathroom and cry in the shower.
“Come on, slow poke.” She turned back to glimpse me from about five steps ahead. I leaned on the railing, moving at half speed. “What’s up, sir? No comment about my ass in this skirt?”
My eyes trailed from her face to her ass. I nodded to myself at the sight. Nice. I could certainly appreciate the outline of it in that fitted fabric, but I had no energy to make a smug comment. My gaze returned to hers.
She hopped down the stairs, closing the space between us and lifting a hand to my shoulder. “What’s up with you?”
I immediately craned my neck to look past the railing at the dining room, ensuring no one was watching. If they saw the way I was feeling, they’d surely say something that would make me feel worse. “Nothing, Juni. Get upstairs.”
Her hand jerked away and her eyebrows sank in the middle. Fuck. Maybe I’d said that a little too sternly. Then again, I’d been a little too stern this entire evening thus far. She turned and walked up the stairs, leaving me behind. I joined her less than a minute later in my room and shut the door.
“Now that we’re alone, want to tell me what’s wrong?” She stood there with her arms crossed. It was almost like she was actually concerned. Or mad. “Did you eat something bad? Are you sick?”
“I, uhm—” I wanted to tell her. Kind of. But I also wanted her to listen, understand, and not judge me for it, which was a long shot and certainly not guaranteed. “Yeah, maybe it was the chicken or something.”
“Weird. I had the chicken but I don’t f—” Her eyes began flickering like she might’ve been thinking. She opened her mouth once to speak, then shut it, then opened it again. “My best friend has—had—trouble with eating sometimes. We learned some stuff together that might help if you’re…sick.”
“That’s okay, June. Thank you.” I grabbed my notebook off the floor and sat on the edge of my bed, moving on with the night and checking over my to-do list. June rummaged around for something in her bag before sitting on the other edge. She then looked at me as she lay flat on her back, placing her head on one of my pillows. She lifted her hand and opened her palm. On it sat two pieces of gum.
“Don’t chew gum while lying down,” I said, glancing at her before placing a checkmark next to one of the list items.
“Aw, cute,” she mocked. “Don’t want me to choke in your bed?”
“Not on gum.”
She clicked her tongue. “Work with me like this. Let’s compare what we’ve done today so far.”
I sighed but ultimately stretched out next to her, the rock in my stomach miring in my insides. I held my notebook up to look at our list. She stuck a piece of gum in her mouth and set the other on my lips, insisting I opened up for her. I did.
As I chewed, I checked off the couple of tasks we’d accomplished today and made a mental note to cross them off the list on our shared document too. “Did you finish the section about Romanesque architecture?”
“Yes.” She bunched her knees up into her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Do this with me.”
“I’m not doing that, June.” I shook my head and checked off another point on our list.
“Come on. I feel too full. Minty gum and movement help, but I feel silly doing it alone.”
I looked to the side to find her staring straight at me. She was hardly being subtle. I searched her eyes for judgment or disgust, but I didn’t find it. So, I lifted my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, notebook in hand. My stomach squished underneath my thighs. “This doesn’t feel good, June.”
“Move your knees back and forth a bit.”
Nope. Absolutely fucking not.“I don’t need this.” I moved to drop my legs.
“I do.” She placed a hand on my arm, insisting it stay wrapped around my lower half. “Move them back and forth with me a bit until it doesn’t hurt me as much.”
I released a long breath and tossed my dignity in the bin before doing as she said. The meal swished around in my stomach as my legs circled. I really didn’t want June near while I was feeling so disgusting, but I had invited her, and I had also eaten more than my fill. Every single thing that led me to this mortifying display was my fault. I’d done this to myself once again.
June talked about The Dark Ages, bouncing ideas around about parts she felt were superfluous to the project and ignoring our moving knees completely. Admittedly, we’d probably gathered a bit too much information, and we needed to reduce our outline. Reducing when there was too much was proving to be harder than gathering when there wasn’t enough.
By the time she stopped talking, we both let our knees drop one at a time, and while I still felt like absolute shit for countless reasons, the weight in my stomach was at least manageable. June took my notebook from me and stacked it on my nightstand. She then turned to me fully, tucking her hands beneath her cheek. She almost looked like she didn’t hate my guts.
I turned my attention to the ceiling. “Why are you looking at me like that, Juni?”
“I don’t know. I just think tonight might’ve been difficult for you.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to stare at me like a creep.”
“You’re right.” She giggled. Good. So she wasn’t pissed about how much of a dick I’d been to her all night. “But we’re far away from campus. It’s weird. It’s like we’re far away from our rivalry. Our stress. Does that make sense?”
“You’re far away from your stress, maybe. Mine’s all right here.”
“Yeah. Family is weird.”
“No.” I finally turned to look at her. “I meant mine is lying here next to me.”
Her mouth dropped open immediately. She shoved my shoulder before attempting to whip out of bed, but I chuckled and grabbed her arm, pulling her back to me. I ignored the way my stomach rolled at the impact of her falling against my chest.
She was right. I did feel like we were far away from our rivalry. I felt like I was just hanging out with June. The person. The woman. The…June. I placed a hand behind her head and kissed her.
“Thank you, whiz kid,” I whispered into her lips.
“For?” Her nose slid over mine in an all too intimate way.
“For being nice to me today.”
“Don’t get used to it, Oli.”