Chapter 19
Oli, Tuesday, 7 Weeks Before the Semester is Out
“Oh, Oliver, that’s ridiculous!” June lifted her hand only to smack it back down on the desk in front of her. We were just one minute early for history class, and I’d already managed to get her worked up before Professor Brown began teaching. It honestly might’ve been a new record.
“I’m just saying, the French Revolution was an overwhelming success. It paved the way for human rights and enforced the idea that a nation is comprised of citizens, not just monarchs.”
She clicked her tongue, knotting her forearms over her chest. “Don’t be stupid. It replaced struggles with more struggles and produced such asinine brutality, your tiny brain couldn’t even begin to process it.”
I agreed with her, but this was so much more fun than admitting it. She’d made it pretty obvious the other day in the library that she was more comfortable around me when we were arguing, and I did a lot of thinking about it over the last couple of days. It was some kind of defense mechanism. Maybe connecting didn’t come easily to her and debating was within her comfort zone. Or maybe it was a way for her to get out extreme emotions. I don’t know, but I didn’t question it. To me, it meant I could continue doing my favorite thing, which was pissing her off and watching the way her blood boiled for me.
It’s not that I wanted her to be mad, it’s just that I wanted to have an effect on her. Besides, it made me feel close to her. Maybe if I did it long enough, her walls would finally fall and she’d let me in. I could only hope.
“But the revolution still succeeded in causing a shift to constitutional monarchies,” I said.
“Still monarchies.”
“But not religious ones.”
She glared at me as if I’d just insulted her. “So, thousands of people had to die just so a king could be appointed by a constitution instead of God?”
I cocked my head, hopelessly lost in her stare. “Yes, Juni, that’s how history tends to work.”
She rolled her eyes, and I could practically see the little gears in her brain whirring, searching for a rebuttal so she could beat me.
I hoped I was challenging her in a helpful way, in a way that made her feel comfortable and motivated, because she certainly did that to me. Figuring her out was like working through a puzzle, and I mean that in the least dehumanizing manner. She was everything; smart, beautiful, incredibly passionate even if she didn’t admit it outright. I knew she was caring too, even though she hadn’t quite shown it to me. I could just…tell. I could see it in the little moments of clarity she sometimes offered me. She was interesting and complex, and I was desperate to see the full picture.
“The revolution was a total mess,” she snapped.
“Much like your self-control when you’re around me.”
She groaned at that, leaning back in her seat to face the front.
My intention wasn’t actually to get her riled up before class started, it was to ask her if she’d come with me to my parents’ house this weekend. My father’s birthday dinner conflicted with our scheduled project time, and I figured we could just get our work done in my room while my parents were downstairs bragging about how awesome their life was. But I knew that would be a huge ask, and June’s emotional walls were literally so tall that she was the envy of all bricklayers. So, if anything, this little debate was just to get her into her comfort zone so I could drop the ask.
Taking a deep breath and reminding myself she was just a girl, not an evil dragon, I spoke. “I have a family party this weekend.” I straightened my things on the desk and leaned back in my chair, trying to act casual. “At my parents’ house. It’s my father’s birthday.”
“Cool.” Not a glimmer of interest shone in her tone.
“Saturday evening,” I clarified.
She didn’t look at me. “Meet Sunday, then?”
“I can’t. The band is meeting at a practice space downtown.”
“The band is meeting,” she mocked as if I were an asshole for saying it, lowering her voice and flicking a hand in the air.
My mouth dropped into a gaping smile. She was funny when she wanted to be. “Miss Juni, you should think yourself lucky that someone as talented and cool as me is getting close to you, you groupie.”
“Groupie?!” She perked up and turned on me, her face hot and contorted with veins of vexation.
“Mhm.” I couldn’t even give her a better answer. I was trying so hard not to laugh in her face.
She didn’t say anything further. Instead, she shot her middle finger straight in the air. I slowly approached it with my lips, waiting for her to notice that I was about to suck on it. She quickly took note and clamped my cheeks in her grip. She was furious, the beautiful thing.
“Then what are you suggesting, Oliver?”
“Come with me,” I mumbled through her squeeze. “We can hide in my bedroom.” I offered her a wink along with that last sentence, hoping to piss her off more, but her face fell and her hold loosened. Her annoyance melted away instantly and was replaced entirely with what looked like…pity?
“I thought you… I figured you had a, uhm, poor relationship with your family,” she said cautiously. Sure. That was one way to put it. “Would you really be okay with me being there?”
I turned and kissed her hand, which was still lightly touching my beard, wishing I could tell her I wanted her everywhere. Something about her beautiful eyes made me feel like I could survive a thousand family parties if only she accompanied me. Honestly, I didn’t want to endure it alone, so her presence would be a win-win.
“I won’t lie to you, it’s gonna suck really bad. We’ll just say a quick hello and then hide upstairs. It’s an hour outside the city. Two depending on traffic. My father is sending a car to get us, and it’ll have us back here by ten.”
“Fine,” she said, coming to her senses and ripping her hand away from my chin. “Only because we have a lot of work to do. We should be much further along on this project by now and your distractions…” She glanced at my lips. “Do not help.”
“All right, class. Let’s get started,” Professor Brown announced. Both June and I turned to face the front.
“It’s relatively formal,” I whispered. “Wear something pretty for me.”
“Fuck off, Oliver.”