by Kiara London
I pull my shoes on and then pull my coat over my shoulders, hoping to make a quick getaway before anyone’s even noticed I left. But Lenny rounds the corner before I can get out the door.
“June, wait,” he mutters. He rushes forward, camera in hand, and stuffs his feet into his tennis shoes while pulling his coat on. I reluctantly wait for him, even though I want nothing more than to get away. “Come on.”
He pushes me out the door and then drags me next door to his house.
“Lenny, no, just let me go home.”
I try digging my feet into the snow but slide across the ice despite my wishes. So I end up being pulled onto his porch, shivering in the brisk winter air.
“We don’t have to talk,” he says, and squeezes my hand. “But I have ice cream and Desperate Housewives on DVR.”
I know I hurt him a little bit back there. I think my nails must have dug into his skin, so I know he felt my urgency. I know he wants nothing more than to make sure I’m okay.
I don’t know what to say without tearing up, so I give him a tight smile, unable to stop the laugh from tumbling from my lips. “We knew you ignored us on Fridays to watch Desperate Housewives.”
He laughs, too, and releases my hand so that he can unlock his front door. “Eva Longoria.” He shoots me a look over his shoulder with a wink. “Duh.”
I smile and turn my eyes down to my shoes.
“So?” he asks.
I nod, sniffling because of the cold. “Okay.”
“That’s what I thought,” he says, and wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Valentine’s Day sucks.”
THE FOLLOWING MORNING I arrive at my locker, surprised to see Milo leaning flat against my locker with his hands in his pockets. He grins slyly when he sees me.
I haven’t had a conversation with him in some time, but he hasn’t changed one bit in appearance. His eyes are a particular shade of green that always seems mischievous and alluring, the kind you can melt right into despite their danger signs. He’s short in stature, being only slightly taller than me. Each and every one of his features is sharp and pointed. To punctuate it all, his light brown curls sit atop his head and fall over his forehead in gentle swoops. I remember why I was attracted to him, but that’s where it stops.
When I come closer, he licks his lips and his eyes drop. “Hello, Juniper,” he says around a smile that displays a set of slightly crooked teeth. It’s then that I remember that Winter Semiformal invitation from weeks back.
“Hi, Milo,” I drawl, purposely sounding bored, because he’ll use any other emotion as leverage.
“Didn’t you get my note?”
“Uh . . . yeah,” I say, and cross my arms over my chest to force his eyes elsewhere.
He moves his eyes up to stare at me. He holds my gaze for a moment, maybe thinking it’ll hypnotize me, and says finally, “So, what do you think?”
I think about everything that’s happened recently, and about what Milo put me through. The notion gives me a headache, and I’m tired of feeling miserable. “I don’t think going to the dance is a good idea.”
I step forward and motion for him to move away, which he does passively to let me into my locker. I begin to exchange books and he turns toward me, purposely invading my personal space.
“I’ll make you forget about Jasper,” he proposes.
I look at him from the corner of my eye and then turn back to my books, eyes narrowing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He snorts and pulls one of my notebooks from the crook of my arm. “Don’t think nobody’s heard about that. Anyone who’s been watching VlogIt knows exactly what’s happening between you and Jasper.” I make a grab for my notebook, but he moves it out of my reach and leans toward me with his face instead. “He’s making you suffer and you have nothing to lose by accepting my offer.”
“I have a lot to lose, actually,” I tell him. If Milo pulls anything at the dance and Jasper sees, my chances to prove myself to him are ruined. It’ll look like I’m trying to get even or that I’ve moved on. I don’t want to do either.
He chuckles. “Oh, c’mon, Juniper. He’s clearly over you. Anyone with eyes can see that. If he’s said anything different, he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. So stop wasting your time on him.”
I rock forward and snatch my notebook out of his hand without a remark. Some of his words sting, but I try to force them from my mind. I know I can trust Jasper more than him, and I won’t let him try to change how I feel about things. He just makes my blood rush loud in my ears and anger swell. So I know I won’t last a night with him.
“What?” he asks. “Did something I say hit too close to home?”
“You’re ignorant.”
“News flash, babe.” He takes a step forward and sets his hands on his hips, looking down on me mockingly. “But you’re hardly the one to talk.”
The bell rings to signal the beginning of first period, so I make our last words brief.
“I’m not interested. You can continue to stay away from me now.”
“Fine.” He shrugs, but his posture is rigid. “Juniper Cooper, Internet sensation, alone at a dance? Kind of pathetic. Says something about you, doesn’t it?”
I let out a breath through my nose but don’t say anything back. I’ve got a class to be at, and he’s wasting my time by putting me down. Even though I feel flushed, I do my best to maintain my composure as I walk off, purposely swinging my hips as I go.
I can’t sleep Friday night. Too much is weighing on my mind. First Jasper psychs me out on Valentine’s Day with Kiss Cam, then Milo confronts me about the coming dance. I feel a little sick and confused, and I can’t get anything straight in my head. All I want is to vent to someone, but Lenny is babysitting the twins, and Allison is touring a college. I’m desperate enough to want to talk to my parents, but my dad is working and my mom is sleeping. I’m alone, and I can’t continue on this way.
So I take a chance on the only person who might be available. And that person is Jasper.
I find everything unlocked and let myself in. It’s not surprising. Jasper probably left it unlocked for Leeann. I didn’t see her car in the driveway. Once in, I toss my flats aside and throw my jacket down. It’s been awhile since I’ve done this, so I stop on the doormat and stare down the hallway, quieting my breathing so that I can hear if Jasper is awake. It’s faint, but I hear enough rustling upstairs to proceed.
I go down the hallway and turn up the staircase, wondering what I’m even going to say when I see him. I have no right to be mad about anything that’s been done, but I do need to talk about it.
His bedroom door is wide open, and I can see right in without poking my head in. Jasper sits at his desk in a pair of sweatpants and no shirt. His laptop is open to VlogIt, and I recognize my voice coming from the speakers. He has to be watching one of our vlogs. Maybe it’s recent, maybe it’s old, but I can’t tell because I’m too far away.
I don’t really know how to approach him, so I reach in and knock on his door.
He only half swivels around, and his eyes remain glued to the screen. “Hey, Ma, sorry I didn’t clean up. I promise I’ll get it done before you wake up.”
“Not Leeann,” I say a little stiffly.
He pauses and then turns around completely, eyes settling on me curiously. “June?”
“Yeah,” I say, and drum my fingers on the paneling of the entryway. “Listen. Can we talk?”
He looks back at his computer and hits pause, letting the silence envelop us. We look at each other for a moment, and he scratches his chin.
“Look,” he says, hunching forward in his desk chair. “If it’s about Valentine’s Day—”
“It is . . . among other things that happened this week.”
He takes a breath and looks at me with a bit of annoyance. “Could you let me finish a sentence just once?” he wonders.
I get this sense that he doesn’t want me here or that I’m irritating him just by being in his pre
sence. It feels like I’m intruding or unwelcome. He looks at me with so much measured patience that I consider walking out.
I think he notices the way my body shifts like I’m going to back out, and he stands, taking a step toward me. Now that he’s standing it gives me a better view of his bare chest, and I remember that he’s not comfortable with his body in front of most people, yet he still stands like this in front of me like things haven’t changed. My eyes drop down to his exposed chest and then I feel silly and turn my head away entirely, because I wasn’t expecting butterflies.
“It was for the viewers, okay? I promise it was nothing more,” he tells me quickly. “Please, don’t leave. I miss you.”
I’m standing halfway in and out of his room, looking down the hallway and feeling pressure build up in my chest. “You shouldn’t have done it, Jas. Not in front of VlogIt and certainly not in front of Elaina.”
“I told her I was going to do it. Don’t worry about her.” He takes another step toward me. “I just wanted to get back to how we were. Please don’t overthink it like you always do.”
My jaw clenches and I shake my head, because what does he expect? I didn’t overthink for years when I should have. I ignored all the signs, and look where it got me. I’m confused and upset and he’s shirtless and it’s not helping.
“So what?” I turn to him, trying extra hard to keep my eyes on his face. “They said kiss the girl you love, and you kissed me first, Jas. But I’m just supposed to brush it off like I always have? After New Year’s and everything else since then?” I run a hand through my hair and my eyes drop down to his chest again. Squeezing my eyes shut, I turn away again. “God, just tell me what to think, because I can’t keep going back and forth with you.”
He makes a frustrated sound that could be a laugh or a sigh. “I already told you not to overthink it, June,” he says carefully. I feel his presence closer to me, but I can’t open my eyes or put my hands down because I know I’ll do something stupid. “Hey,” he says softly now. “What’s going on with you?”
“This mind game is not what I wanted,” I say, and my eyes remain tightly shut.
“What are you talking about?” He sounds angry, but not the kind of angry that means he’s mad, the kind of angry that means he’s irritated with me, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t even think I’m making sense, and I didn’t expect to get so upset while talking to him.
“I just don’t know what you want from me,” I confess. “And I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about all of it, because none of it is right to me. You act all weird around me one second, and the next you kiss me like everything is fine. I don’t know, Jas. I just don’t know anymore.”
He tugs on my elbow, trying to get me to pull my hands away from my hair. My eyes still remain tightly closed. “Why are you hiding from me?” he asks exasperatedly. “Can we just have a conversation without all the drama?”
“Can you put a shirt on?” I sound stressed, a lot more desperate than I intended, and my cheeks flush. I lean my head back against the wall and cover my face in embarrassment, but he backs away and throws a shirt over his head compliantly.
“Are we good?” he asks when he’s dressed, and I pull my hands away from my face and nod, unable to meet his eyes because my cheeks are still glowing.
“Are we?” I ask.
He makes an exaggerated shrug and looks at me helplessly. “I don’t know what you want, June. I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”
“Really?” I meet his eyes hesitantly. “You’re over it?”
He lets out a breath. “I mean, it’s been over a month. I’m with Elaina. We agreed to let it go.”
I bite my lip and nod. So that’s it, then. There’s nothing left between him and me. The awkwardness needs to stop. Has it just been me? Am I the one who’s been stubborn with letting everything go since our last talk?
He’s fine. It’s just me.
“Right,” I say.
It’s quiet for a minute, and I hug my arms across my chest. I feel his eyes on me even after I turn my head away.
“Was there something else?”
I glance up at him and run a shaky hand through my hair. “Milo.”
“Milo?”
I nod and cross my arms. “He confronted me about the dance today and said some stuff about us that . . . that I didn’t want to hear.”
He’s rigid, the same kind of tense that he gets whenever Milo is mentioned. “Well?”
I bite my lip and shake my head, knowing that Jasper is protective and that I couldn’t tell him everything without explaining exactly the reason I’m upset. Jasper has Elaina. I can’t do that now.
“You know . . . it was just about us. And he just tried to make me feel bad so I’d go to the dance with him.” I play with my fingers and shift my weight onto one hip, dropping my eyes. “But I’m tired of feeling miserable, so . . . you can imagine how that went.” I try to laugh, but it comes out closer to a wheeze.
Jasper sighs deeply and shakes his head. “Milo is an ass. I’m sorry I wasn’t there—”
“You wouldn’t have helped,” I tell him, and as an afterthought to all that, I add, “I really messed everything up, huh?”
Jasper tries to disagree, but I stop him. “I was stupid, Jas. About everything.”
“June,” he asks after some time. He’s careful, face soft, and eyes steady. “Do you—you aren’t—please say after all this that . . . ?”
I answer him before he can finish his thought. I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do, but I have to tell him anyway.
My whole body feels like it’s on fire when I say what comes out next. “Maybe I was wrong that night.”
His mouth drops open like he’s going to say something, and he gets this awful look on his face that looks like a cross between disappointment and hurt. “You can’t say that now. Not after you put me through all this. And if you think that it’s going to make things better—that we can just kiss and make up and everything is fine and dandy—it won’t be. I don’t want pity love, Juniper.”
“It’s not pity, Jas.”
He shakes his head, and his voice is strangely calm. “I don’t believe you. You just want to make things better, but tricking yourself into loving me won’t do that. You’ll regret it.”
“I regret saying no.”
“No, you regret the consequences of saying no.” He takes a couple of steps toward me and puts his hands on my shoulders.
I feel my teeth grind together and my hands clench. I hate that he’s fighting me. I hate that he’s trying to talk me out of this. And suddenly, I don’t care about Elaina. I just want to make him understand me. I was wrong. I want him. I came here looking for comfort, and now all I want is him. Just him.
I wish I could go back to New Year’s and say yes. I wish I didn’t overthink everything. And now he’s standing before me with his hands on my shoulders, and I’m dizzy with desire. I want nothing more than to prove him wrong, that what I feel for him is true.
It’s not like me, and it’s against everything I’ve done in the past, but I reach between us and wrap my hand around his neck, pulling him to me. He doesn’t resist and allows me to pull him down to my height until we’re breathing the same air and my heart is pounding so hard that I’m numb. He rests his forehead on mine, and my eyes close in anticipation. I’ve missed this closeness, this intimacy between us.
I move my mouth to his and our lips are close to brushing when he turns his head away.
“I don’t cheat,” he murmurs.
It hits me harder than expected, the fact that he won’t go through with this, that he really is done with me. My lips press together and I hold back sudden tears. My hand drops from his neck, and I lean in to press my face to his chest. He wraps his arms around me and presses his cheek to the top of my head.
“I hate this,” I say, tears sliding down my cheeks and soaking the front of his shirt. “Why can’t we just go back to being us? Why is it so hard?”
But I don’t want to start over. I just want him to believe me. I just want him to love me again. But I don’t say that.
He leans away from me and pushes damp curls away from my face. “Like the first time you spent the night and we told each other everything. Our middle names and our favorite colors. I told you about my dad, and you were weird because you ate french fries with mayo. I taught you how to read a comic book, and you taught me how to braid hair. Maybe we should start over. Like seventh grade.”
I wipe stray tears away and nod. He looks eager to try this, and I think yes, we could do this. We could learn to be best friends again.
He leads me to his bed, and I obediently sit down when my knees hit the edge. He goes to his bookshelf and pulls a book from his stack. When he comes back, he kneels down before me and holds the book up.
“Juniper May, this is not a comic book. This is manga, and I haven’t taught you how to read this.”
I look at the strange artwork on the cover and then at the title written a bit chaotically across the top.
“And how does one read Death Note?” I ask, going along with this the way he wants me to.
He turns the book over and opens to the last page. “You read them backward.”
He hands me the book and then stands up and crawls onto his mattress to sit behind me. “So, teach me to French braid.”
I show him how and then watch in the mirror above his desk as he works at my hair. Just like seventh grade, he bites the corner of his lip as he pulls strands of hair from one side of my head to the other. When we were younger, I watched in the same fashion as he tried to figure out how to braid. He knelt behind me with long, dark hair and a Pokémon shirt as a thirteen-year-old. Now eighteen, his jaw is wider and is hair shorter. He hasn’t shaved recently, and there’s a little bit of stubble coming in. Instead of Pokémon, he wears a white shirt that he cut the sleeves off of.
