stayed there longer, he would be the one to get hurt, not June…
I walk around the streets, pretending I don’t care while my mind swims with ideas of how to get June away from Parker. But I can’t, and I won’t. I’ve held back for so long, and I’ll just have to last longer. I can't have her.
My promise to her mother is still fresh in my mind. She didn't want us together. I need to honor Rachel’s memory, not disrespect it.
Time passes slowly, and finally, I’ve had enough. It’s pitch-dark outside, and the few streetlights in our neighborhood are barely throwing any light on the pavement as I make my way back home. I stop under our brick apartment building, glancing up at the window that I know is in our kitchen.
The light is on.
I can just picture them, sitting at the table I paid for, eating food that Parker made, my paper bag forgotten on the counter. I want to grind my teeth with pure rage, but instead, I settle for punching the façade of our building.
I cuss loudly and look at my bleeding knuckles, nursing my hand.
“Well, that didn’t help much.” Someone conveys my thoughts out loud, and I turn toward the voice like it’s a siren calling to me. Of course, it’s June. She’s standing by the entrance to our building, Parker’s sweatshirt peeking out of her pristine white coat.
That alone lets me know she knows nothing about how hard life can be because, in my version, I'd probably get the white coat dirty on the subway, on the bus, just from fucking living my life. But if hers get so much as a little stain on it, she can just replace it with another one. It’s an endless supply of white coats for her, and a loop of torn jackets for me.
I rush into our building, ignoring June completely. But instead of backing off like I expected she would, June steps in my way, and I brush against her.
That alone sends a shiver through my body, and my muscles clench with how badly I want her. I’m so far gone—when did this happen? I thought I had myself under control.
“Wait, please…” she whispers, and I stop because as badly as I have to, need to go on, I would do it all for her. I will stop, and I will listen, even if it breaks me.
“June, let me be,” I repeat my own words from the previous day. “Please. I can’t right now. I'm sure you had fun with Parker, but I don't have the energy to deal with you every fucking day.”
I can feel her frown even though I’m looking at the floor, trying hard not to glance up at her beautiful face. I can imagine her lips setting in that pout of hers, the one that always gets her what she wants. And I know full well that if I see it now, this encounter will be no different. She has me twisted around her little finger, and she doesn’t even know it.
“Why do you try so hard to push me away?” she asks sadly, her words breaking syllable by syllable. “I know you hate me… I know you have reason to. But I tried to help you. I tried to give you money. Tried to get you an apartment. How can you be so self-righteous?”
I finally raise my gaze, though I still have to look down at her. June’s tall, but I still tower over her with my six-feet-four inches. I survey every area of her face, letting myself savor this moment.
Her nose is like a button, small and perfect. Her skin is flawless as though she’s never even heard of the word puberty. Her eyes, such a deep-sea blue. Her hair is dark, curled today, and falling on her shoulders in artful waves. It looks pretty, but I prefer it natural—straight with a few waves here and there. I don't let myself get started on those lips because if I look at them, I won’t be able to stop. I really fucking won’t.
“I’m doing this to protect you,” I tell her. “And you really should know why already. Do I need to spell it out for you?”
“Protect me from what?” she asks innocently, ignoring everything else I’ve said. I want to show her so badly. I want to press her against the wall, kiss her roughly, and push my hand between her legs. I want her to know I’m not her