by Amelia Wilde
The sun gets brighter, so bright I have to raise my hand and shade my eyes. The sun over the fields, or coming in through a set of blinds. The wind dies down, gets quiet. Somebody’s breathing nearby. I float up from the dream and find myself in a nest of blankets on some high-traffic carpet with a stiff neck. Julie May sleeps sprawled out on the bed with her arms over her head.
Oh, god. That kiss.
I flop back down on my makeshift bed. Why do I feel like this, all warm and hopeful? I should be mortified. It was a mistake to kiss her. I knew she was drunk, and crossing that line is something you can’t always come back from. What’s wrong with me?
Julie May stretches and turns, waking up slow. She rolls over onto her side and opens her eyes. What’s wrong with me is that my heart belongs to this woman, damn it. The moment she saw me, it picked up its pace to a gallop. Christ, those pink cheeks and tousled hair...Julie May looks warm and inviting and I want to kiss her again.
Get up, get up.
I roll up onto my knees, my back cracking, and she giggles softly at how stiff I am.
“Don’t you laugh at me.” I mean to point a finger in her face to be funny but end up stroking the side of her cheek.
Julie May leans into it. “About last night...” She bites her lip. “Sorry. I was kind of drunk.”
“Are you sober now?”
Her eyes have never looked bigger. “Yeah.”
“Me too.”
It’s wrong to kiss your best friend. You should never do it. But that’s exactly what I do, there in that bedroom. I lean in and kiss her, a soft brush of my lips against hers. Just to see what’ll happen. It’s early enough in the morning that we could both forget it if we wanted to.
“Luke...” Julie May whispers, and then? Then it’s all over. She slings her arms around my neck and pulls me into the bed with her. I should’ve checked the time. Maya and her kids will be up, and they’ll be moving through the house, and I cannot have sex with my best friend. Too late. All thoughts of time and place fly out the window except for one: be quiet, be quiet.
I just want to touch her. We don’t have to have sex, but I do need my hands on her skin. Julie’s sleeping in an oversized t-shirt and panties and I push up the shirt to reveal the soft swell of her abs and the bones of her hips. I feel all of it. I feel her heartbeat through her skin and skin so soft I could cry. This is better than my dream. It’s better than any dream, and it’s real.
My boxer shorts are no match for my dick. One shift of my hips to climb over her and it’s out, stiff and aching. Damn, I want her. I want her so much that I feel it over every inch of my skin like a sunburn that’ll never lift. A sunburn that I want. Nobody could blame me for pulling her panties down and tossing them aside. No one could blame me for kissing the side of her hip and then crawling up and up until my hips are keeping her legs apart. I want this. I want this.
And I want it now.
The sensitive head of me meets soft, slick flesh. Julie May’s hands tense on my shoulders. “Luke—” There’s a catch in her breath that wasn’t there before.
Ice water. That’s what it reminds me of. Getting dunked in ice water on a hot day. I’m not dreaming, this is reality, and what we’re doing—what I’m doing—is wrong. Dead wrong. I’m being such an ass. She told me she’d been drunk when we kissed and what, I’m just going to climb into her bed and sleep with her without some kind of discussion? Jesus. I crawl back off the bed and put myself away. Julie May’s in a vulnerable spot right now and here I am, crossing lines. I’m disgusted with myself. She whips the sheets back over her body and rolls away, a flash of something in her eyes that’s gone the next second, and I escape to the guest bathroom to brush my teeth and pull on some clothes.
Julie May takes her turn next, and when I get back, the tiny room is all packed up. We’re going home. She stands there awkwardly at the other side of the room, not looking at me.
“You got everything?”
“Yeah, Luke. I got everything.” I let her take her duffel bag out ahead of me and we clatter down the stairs to where Maya waits in the kitchen. Julie May’s cousin is looking into one of her cupboards like it might hold the keys to the universe.
“Hey, guys. You want some breakfast before you go?” Her eyes flick back and forth between Julie May and me and hot embarrassment swipes itself across my cheeks. Does she know? No, there’s no way she could.
“I think we should probably get going,” Julie May says finally, a sheen of tears in her eyes. “It was so good to meet you, Maya.” She steps forward and the two women hug tight. “Let’s stay in touch.”
Maya pats her back, laughing. “Stay in touch? Girl, we’re family. We’re not going to be out of touch ever again. You hear me?”
Julie May laughs at that, then cries some more, and then it’s time for the blisteringly awkward walk to Julie May’s truck. I’m sick with disappointment at my own stupid-ass behavior. This was the biggest weekend of her life, and I’ve gone and ruined it like a total ass. She didn’t bring me along to try and sleep with her. She definitely didn’t bring me along to kiss her and ruin our lifelong friendship. Leave me here, I want to say. I’ll walk home. But it’s too damn far, and I couldn’t stand the hurt look I know she’d give me.
So I throw my stuff in the back and climb into the passenger seat. Julie May gives Maya one last chipper finger waggle and sticks the key determinedly into the ignition. “You want me to drive? You drove all the way here.”
She looks at me, green eyes dark like the beginning of a tornado. Then her face softens into something worse—disappointment. “Naw. I’ve got it.”
Julie May steers us out of the driveway and back down the road to the freeway on-ramp. When we were in high school, we made all kinds of plans for the road trips we’d take. Both of us like being on the highway. Going fast, with the wind rushing around the car. At some point you stop and you’re in a whole new world, even if it’s just three towns over. Now the wind reminds me uncomfortably of my dream and Julie May’s riding in silence, no music on, her eyes locked on the road and her jaw set.
She’s got to be furious with me. She’s got to be so grossed out by what happened. How is she not stopping by the road to puke up her guts right now? I try to enjoy the scenery but shit, there’s nothing to enjoy in this heavy silence between us. I hate it.
Twenty miles is how long I last before I have to break it again.
“You still my best friend, Julie May?”
It’s an olive branch and she should know it. She gives me a side-eyed look. “Yeah. You think one kiss is enough to end a friendship?”
I wish it was, so we could be something more. “Naw.” I tap her lightly on the shoulder. “It’s lonely as hell without you. Let me out of the doghouse, will you? It won’t happen again, Julie May, I promise.”
“I double-promise.” She can’t look me in the eye because she’s driving, but Julie May sticks out a pinkie. “Pinky swear.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” We stopped pinky swearing in the first grade.
“Pinky swear,” she insists, and damn it, I do.
9
Julie May
I wasn’t avoiding him. I was just busy.
But when Luke called this morning, all sunshine and teasing, and demanded to know if I was avoiding him on purpose since we got back from Maya’s—What, now that you’ve got a cousin to gossip with, you don’t need me anymore?—I realized that this past week was the longest we’d gone without seeing each other in a lifetime.
And in spite of the horror of almost sleeping with him and then the deep, restless ache from not sleeping with him after all, I missed him.
I shouldn’t want to see him after what happened, but it’s all I want. So when he needles to me to grab lunch with him at the Riverside Bar, I hesitate only a moment before I agree.
Now that I’m sitting across from him, with his broad shoulders taking up my entire field of vision and his heady, familiar scent somehow still filling my lungs
in spite of the Rueben sandwich now in front of me, I wonder if this wasn’t the biggest mistake I ever made.
Luke is a messy eater, thankfully. And his attention is now firmly on the plate in front of him. I nibble on my sandwich and try to compose myself.
“So what’s the story on the sister?” Luke asks in between massive bites. “I kept waiting for you to call me this week with the situation.”
I let my eyes dart around the room. I’ve been doing this ever since I got back from Maya’s. Scanning the room for a woman who looks like the girl in the picture.
“Hello?”
I turn back to Luke just as he’s lifting his burger to his mouth. He takes a huge bite, sending the contents spilling out all over the plate. He grins at me expectantly, waiting for me to make some joke about him being raised in a barn so that he can say his usual line about it being true that he was.
I try to smile, but I must not be convincing, because he swallows and frowns thoughtfully. “Earth to Julie May. You didn’t answer my question. And aren’t you going to tell me you can’t take me anywhere?”
I look around at the homey dining area of the Riverside. “You took me here.”
He rolls his eyes. “It’s a figure of speech.”
“You said, and I quote, I would commit felony murder for a burger.”
“And I’m not feeling murderous anymore.” Luke takes another giant bite, and I hope I’m off the hook.
But he is still giving me that look. “Have you called her yet?”
I try to play innocent. “Who?”
“Nice try.”
“No, seriously. Who am I supposed to be calling?” I stuff my mouth full of Rueben to buy myself time to come up with a reason as to why I haven’t gotten in touch with my long-lost sister yet.
I’ve researched her, of course. With the info Maya had on her, I was able to piece together that she is three years older than me. She was raised by our grandmother, a woman I didn’t know existed either. Her adoption wasn’t formal like mine was, so she was able to keep the family that I never had.
But according to Maya, the woman that birthed us both hasn’t been seen by the family in years. My sister might know where she is.
My sister.
I can’t get used to that phrase. I have a sister and her name is Laura. She’s married with a son in Six Mile Creek.
All this time, and I had a sister less than an hour’s drive from Paulson.
“You’re somewhere else today,” Luke comments as flags down the waitress. “Excuse me, could I get some of the kettle chips?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Oh god, you’re going to put chips on your burger again?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because you ate half of it already.”
“Because I was starving. Now I’m not and I want to savor these last bites. Thank you so much,” he says to the waitress as she returns with the chips. He lifts the top bun and proceeds to lay the chips out in an intricate pattern.
He always does this, but for some reason today I find it annoying. “That’s gross.”
Luke is unfazed. “You get the crunch with the mush. It’s the perfect blend of textures, Julie May. I keep telling you it’s delicious.”
“Why would you even think to put chips on a burger?”
“My grandpa always ate it this way. He’d disown me if I didn’t.”
Something twists in my belly. “Well, I don’t know my grandpa,” I snap. I’m feeling mean. I want him to stop being nice to me, stop being supportive, stop pressing me to find Laura. It’s too much. I don’t even want to be here. I just want to hide in my bed and lick my wounds and stew over everything I missed out on growing up without a family.
But Luke isn’t dissuaded by my bad mood. He never is. “That might have gotten you more sympathy last month, Jules. But you can’t exactly claim poor orphan status anymore, can you? You’re finding family left and right now.”
“I haven’t found her, per se.”
“That’s because you haven’t called her. Jules, you should call her.”
“Right now?” The bustling dining area has only gotten louder as we’ve been sitting here.
“Why the hell not?”
The anger returns. “I can’t just call her, Luke.”
“Why not?”
“Because!” My head feels like it’s going to explode. Of course this is hard for him to understand. He’s always just belonged. He’s settled, he knows his place in the world, and more than that, he’s confident in it. And right now, I kind of hate him for it.
“I can’t believe you’re sitting on this,” he presses. “It’s been a week. You been working on your family history for ages. Why wouldn’t you want to meet her right away?”
“What if she doesn’t want to hear from me?”
“How would you know unless you ask?”
“She might be upset.”
“So what? Sometimes families get mad at each other.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
“I’m not. I’m trying to help. You and your sister are blood.”
“You’ve always been safe,” I explode. “You can take risks because you have people protecting you.”
“You have your mom.”
This brings me up short. “I know, but…”
“She knows you’re doing all this, right?”
“Sort of.”
“Jules.”
“I don’t want to upset her.”
“She’d support you.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“It is. Because I know her.”
I stare at him. In all the years I’ve known Luke, I cannot remember ever fighting with him. This feeling of rage simmering in my veins is too much to handle.
I get up and throw down a twenty. “What the hell is that?” Luke asks.
“I’m leaving.”
“No, you’re not. And you’re not paying, either.”
“Says who?”
“Says me. I invited you. Those are the rules.”
“Well, I’m breaking them.”
“What the hell is up with you?”
I can’t stay in here. I need to run. I grab my purse. “Leave me alone, Luke.”
“Julie May!” he shouts. Every head in the restaurant spins our way. Blinded by tears, I rush for the door, flinging it open to the fresh, cold air.
He grabs my hand and yanks me back. I spin around and stumble and land against him.
“Stop,” he orders.
And then kisses me.
I had no idea how much I needed his mouth on mine until it happens. I stifle a low moan and wrap my arms around his neck.
We’re best friends and we’re making out in the parking lot of the Riverside Bar for everyone to see, and I don’t care anymore. I don’t care that he’s my best friend. I don’t care that this is wrong on every level. I just know that I need his mouth, his tongue, and the small, muffled noises he makes when he sinks his fingers into my hair to pull me closer.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers against my lips.
“For what?” I am breathless.
He strokes his thumb over my lip. “For pushing you too hard. That wasn’t right.”
“No, I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know. Being a bitch.”
“You’re going to have to work a lot harder on being an actual bitch, Jules,” he chuckles. He’s still cupping my face in a way that makes me feel giddy and cherished at the same time. “You’re like a kitten trying to show her claws when you’re mad. It’s adorable.”
“You’ve never seen me really mad,” I protest.
“I can’t wait to witness that, but we’re getting off topic here.” He presses his forehead to mine so that all I can see is the universe in his eyes. “Are you going to call her?”
I can’t resist him. This is new. “Yes.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. Now?”
“Where?” he prompts.
“I don’t know yet.”
“You want me there?” Does he really not know how necessary he is? I touch his face. Then I kiss him as my answer.
He brushes his lips to mine and smiles. “We’ll do some more of that later, okay? I’m not letting you get distracted.”
“Damn,” I joke weakly. “That was my whole intent.”
“And it almost worked. But come on, Jules. Let’s do this now.” He takes my hand. “I know just the place.”
10
Julie May
The town library is rivaled only by the Harvest Festival as the place most likely to bring people together here in Paulson. It's a stately red brick building, three stories tall, originally home to one of the town founders who donated it for the good of the community.
The first floor is dominated by the circulation desk and a huge children’s area that plays host to a steady stream of toddlers being ushered by their mothers in and out of various story times. There is also a community room that’s a haven for the seniors who like to sit nursing free Styrofoam cups of lukewarm coffee as they complain about local politics. If I were to set foot anywhere on that floor, I was bound to be interrupted at least 50 times. I’d be reminded ten times over of the fact that I never belonged here, as I weathered the squints, the blank looks, and the sudden widening of the eyes as they remembered oh yeah, the Collins girl. She’s adopted. She’s not one of us.
It’s not much better on the second floor. That’s where the adult collection is housed. There is no room to browse the stacks without bumping shoulders with someone from church, or the kid who mows lawns every summer. When I was a teenager surreptitiously checking out the romance novels, a well-meaning patron called my mother and reported seeing me in the “dirty book section.”
But the third floor is an oasis. Tucked into a far corner, surrounded only by the administrative offices, is a quiet study lounge. It’s homey and comfortable. A beat-up office table dominates the center of the room, but the corners are filled with a pleasing jumble of easy chairs and houseplants that are dutifully cared for by the library volunteers. Over the course of tracking down my birth family, I’ve come to regard this room as my very own. It’s the closest to private we can get in Paulson.
