Chapter 28 Violet
VIOLET
“Come on, you’ve seriously never tried eggs benedict?” June asks.
“If it isn’t scrambled or fried, then no, I’ve never tried them,” Lexie returns.
“What about hard-boiled?” June questions. “Have you had hard-boiled eggs?”
“Nope.”
“What about like, an omelet? Have you had an omelet?” June prods.
“Depends. Are we talking scrambled with cheese sprinkled on top? Then yes, but only if we were feeling really bougie. If you’re talking about the fluffy stuff chocked full of veggies and meat that I’ve seen in commercials? Then, no. No, I have not.”
Stunned, June sits back on the couch and shakes her head as though my best friend has three heads sprouting from her neck instead of one. “You’re insane.”
She’s right. Lexie’s totally insane, but I wouldn’t change her for the world, and I love how despite June having her mind blown by my best friend’s lack of culinary growth, there’s no judgement there. Not really.
I was a little nervous to introduce my new roommate to my best friend, but they hit it off with ease.
I wouldn’t call them peas in a pod by any means, more like the yin to her yang, they’re so different, but I’m not complaining.
As soon as Lexie tried one of June’s sourdough cookies—because, apparently, those are a thing—and gushed about their amazingness, June was on team Lexie.
So much so, she taught Lexie how to sign up for a free dental cleaning through the school, which in turn, won over Lexie in an instant.
Because if it’s free, it’s a win in Lexie’s book.
Now here we are, in my new apartment, watching Harry Potter while discussing exactly how different our upbringings were, even when it comes to silly things like food.
“Okay, okay.” June rests her chin in her palm, fascinated by our childhood experiences and how different they are from hers. “What was your favorite after-school snack?”
Lexie’s expression lights up. “Either homemade nachos or cinnamon toast.”
June’s forehead wrinkles. “You’ve made homemade nachos but have never had an omelet?”
I clarify, “Our homemade nachos are just tortilla chips microwaved with whatever cheese is on sale.”
“Oh.” June hesitates. “I mean, that’s not terrible. I would usually broil mine in the oven and dip it in homemade salsa or guacamole, but it’s basically the same thing.”
Lexie shares a look with me and snorts. “Sure, it is.”
“Cinnamon toast?” June continues. “What’s that?”
My jaw drops. “You’re joking.”
June stays quiet.
Smacking June’s knee, Lexie says, “You are joking. Right?”
The girl looks like she was just caught in her underwear as she folds her arms, her eyes shifting from me to Lexie. “If I say no, will I be kicked out of the friend group?”
With a laugh, I shake my head. The girl is so sheltered but kind, it’s a little off-putting in the best way possible. “Nah, you’re safe,” I tell her.
“Cinnamon toast is toast, butter, cinnamon, and white sugar on top,” Lexie explains.
“Oooo, that actually sounds pretty good!” June says.
I can’t decide if she’s lighting up because of Lexie’s description or if she’s happy because we aren’t kicking her out of the group.
Little does she know, Lexie and I could use a few more girls in our corner.
Besides, even if we had a hundred friends, June would still make the cut.
Being anything but kind to a girl like her would be like kicking a helpless puppy. No bueno.
“I bet cinnamon toast would be amazing on Quasimodough,” June gushes. “What about you, Vi?”
“Anything with peanut butter, and she’s happy,” Lexie says for me. “Speaking of happy, what time is it?”
I check the time on my cell. “Six-thirty.”
“Well, shit.” She juts out her bottom lip in a pouty-face. “Seems my happy time is up. I should probably get going.”
“Where are you off to?” June asks as Lexie unfolds herself from the sofa.
With a sigh, she grabs her black leather jacket we found while thrifting a little while ago from the back of the couch. “I have to go to work.”
Lame. The necessary evil that is work. If we were smart, one of us would change jobs so we could see each other more since Lexie’s always working the night shift, and I’m usually at The Bean Scene in the mornings, but outside of our friendship, it’s what works best with the rest of our schedules.
And besides, Lexie’s a night owl. There’s no way she’d survive waking up before noon.
“Want me to drive you?” I ask.
Sliding on her jacket, Lexie says, “I can take the bus.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, no worries.” She waves me off. “Stay. Keep educating June about what it’s like to be poor.”
With a quiet chuckle, I snuggle back into the couch, grateful I don’t need to play Uber for the night.
Besides, Lexie’s not wrong. Our dear, sweet June really is clueless when it comes to what it was like to live in The Drift.
Considering who her new friends are and how well we’re all clicking, she could use as much education as she can get.
June was raised in a middle class family with two present parents, a childhood dog, and a house with a white picket fence out front and a garden in the back.
To be fair, we’ve been tossing as many questions her way as she has to us, and it’s been fascinating to say the least.
“What do you do, Lexie?” June asks.
I stay quiet, watching Lexie as she pulls out her dark hair from the collar of her jacket so it waterfalls down her back. Sensing the same impending proverbial storm, Lexie gives me the side-eye. “Wanna pull out your phone so you can document the look on her face?”
“Nah, I’m trying to stay in the moment,” I quip.
June lifts a brow as her gaze bounces from me to Lex and back again. “What am I missing?”
Balancing on one leg, Lexie slips on one heel, then the other, as she reveals the truth in all its less-than-traditional glory. “I’m a dancer,” she announces.
“Oh.” June settles back in the seat. “You made it sound like it was going to be something crazy–”
“An exotic dancer,” Lexie adds.
“Oh.” June’s eyes bulge, and she folds her arms, nearly choking on her words. “That’s…that’s nice. How long have you been…exotically”—she clears her throat—“dancing?”
I burst out laughing, and Lexie’s mouth quirks up in a crooked grin. Yup. Yup, her reaction was as good as I assumed it would be.
“Oh, whatever,” June grumbles. “I’m trying to be supportive here!”
“And you’re doing a great job,” Lexie teases. “Very supportive.”
Trying again, June shifts against the couch cushions and grabs a decorative pillow—because, apparently, those are a thing, too—then hugs it to her chest. “So, where do you work?”
“The Body Shop,” Lexie answers. “It’s a gentlemen’s club—”
My snort cuts her off. “Sorry, but I’d hardly call a strip club a gentleman's," I emphasize, “club. Pretty sure the only prerequisite to walking through those doors is to not be a gentleman, but what do I know?”
“Says the girl who’s totally crushing on Jag Off, AKA the teacher of ‘how to be an asshole’ one oh one?” Lexie quips.
I give her a mock glare as she reaches for her purse, unperturbed in the slightest. I still haven’t told her about my little sleepover at Harden Estate.
I haven’t told anyone about my little sleepover at Harden Estate.
If I did, she’d probably have a heart attack.
Even so, the girl knows me well enough to see whatever hate I’d been harboring for Jagger Harden has slowly softened into something else, even if we haven’t really seen each other since the day he made me come in an empty classroom.
Add in the little tidbit about him pulling a few strings behind the scenes to get me the apartment in the first place, along with his strange vow about wanting to keep me, and, well, it’s been a bit of a mindfuck.
“Yikes,” June mutters. “So tell me, Lex. How’d you get started there?”
“Family friend,” Lexie answers vaguely. “They mentioned opening a new club on the south side of The Drift and asked if I wanted to help out or whatever, and I figured, why not? You know?”
“Really?” June looks even more fascinated than when we were describing our favorite after-school snacks. “So, you didn’t have any dancing experience or anything?”
“Lexie’s a ballerina,” I answer for my best friend. “She’s been dancing since she could walk.”
It’s true, too. I might not have known her personally back then, but I found a couple old family home videos once, and the footage was the cutest thing I’d ever seen.
A toddler Lexie with her hair pulled into a high bun, wearing a leotard and tights with holes in the knees. Round and round she twirled.
“So, why go the exotic route?” June asks. I’m pretty sure if she was anyone else, Lexie would smack them, but June looks so genuine and curious, my best friend can’t help but cave to her innocent prodding.
“From The Drift, remember?” she returns. “When you’re not raised with money, you follow it wherever it goes, hoping to steal a small piece of the pie. Which reminds me.” Lexie reaches for the door handle. “Ready for your mind to really be blown, June?”
June nods.
Lexie drops her voice low. “I’ve never had pumpkin pie.”
June’s eyes pop. Speechless. The girl is freaking speechless.
“And now, my job is done.” Lexie bows as if receiving a standing ovation for her cleverness. “See you later, ladies!” And she closes the door behind her.
Count on Lexie to throw a bomb on a conversation before swaying her curvy little hips right out the door. The woman’s never had a filter and thrives on knocking people off-guard, which she just succeeded in doing like a champ.
Resting back into the couch, June tucks her feet under her butt and scratches the side of her head.
The soft curls from her messy bun frame her face and make her look effortlessly gorgeous as she stares at the closed front door my best friend disappeared through.
Yup. Like I said, Lexie nailed it. June’s speechless.
“So?” I ask, breaking the silence.
She tears her focus from the front door, giving me a front row seat to her dazed expression. “She seems…nice?”
“Is that a question?” I ask with a laugh.
“No?” She joins in my amusement and covers her eyes. “I don’t know, she’s so…different than anyone I’ve ever met. You both are,” she adds, though the kind smile spreading across her round face softens the blow. “How did you two meet?”
“We ran into each other a few years ago,” I answer. “She was new in town. Moved in a few places down from me, and kneed a homeless guy who tried to steal her phone. I came outside to see what was going on, and we’ve been friends ever since.”
June’s eyes practically bug out of her head. “Seriously?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“That’s insane.” June hesitates, lost to her thoughts. “The girl has more tenacity in her pinkie toe than I do in my whole body.”
I don’t want to confirm her assumption. We don’t know each other well enough yet.
Besides, sometimes I think we see ourselves differently than others do.
Add in the stark contrast between their upbringings, and it’s almost impossible to compare them, let alone let someone as soft and sweet as June beat herself up over it.
“Lexie doesn’t really talk about her family life or…anything really personal,” I murmur, “but from what I’ve gathered over the years, she’s needed it. Her tenacity.”
“I believe it.” With a slow nod, June looks down at her T-shirt, suddenly somber. “I’m glad she has you.”
“I’m glad I have her, too. And you,” I add. “We’re roommates now, so you’re kind of stuck with me.”
Peeking up at me, she smiles. “I think I’m okay with that.”