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“But,” she says, at last, her lips mesmerizing, “we probably—”
“Shouldn’t do it again,” I say, finishing the sentence for her. “I’ve got to make it clear to you, June, I don’t want a relationship. I don’t have room for a woman in my life.”
“And you’re my boss.”
“Exactly.”
She hesitates. “We were friends.”
“Were friends?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.
“We haven’t talked in years, Cash.”
“You stopped writing.”
Her grip tightens on the door, but she doesn’t say anything.
“Were friends,” I repeat.
Quiet. The sounds of the summer night drifts through her bedroom window to break it. A chirping of crickets, and suburban noises.
“I should get some sleep,” she says.
I step backward. “Goodnight, June.”
“Goodnight, Cash.” Her voice is soft, and the way her lips form my name is intoxicating.
I go into my room. Were friends. We were friends. Not friends any more. How long has it been since I had this feeling?
The pitiful truth is that this is the feeling that I associate with June. As a teen, I thought it was just a hormonal crush. Now, I know better.
But not friends?
Yeah. That’s not happening.
June needs every friend she can get. She deserves friends who will protect her from the vultures that circle women like her. The ones who prey on goodwill and kindness and empathy. June can look out for herself, sure, but I can’t let her do it on her own. I just can’t.
Not when she’s just been kicked in the ass by that fuck on the other end of the line. What kind of a name is Braydon, anyway?
I shut my bedroom door and walk to the wall that we share. I press my forehead against it, shut my eyes and inhale deeply, imagining for a second that I’m on the other side of it, my arms around her, gently kissing her neck, working my way up to her ear lobe. The warmth of her body against mine is a real thing now that I’ve felt it.
My frustration grows at a pace beside my need for her, and my cock is hard again. At this rate, I’m going to be raw from touching myself because of her. It’s like I’m a horny teenager again, jacking off over the same woman.
It’s like time has impacted with itself, and I’m here and there, trapped with myself and the emotions that I avoided.
Sixteen
JUNE
It was just a kiss.Nothing but a kiss. Just a kiss.
I’ve repeated that mantra in my mind fifty times since I woke up this morning. I blame anxiety. But it’s helping me keep thoughts of Cash’s lips on mine at bay. I won’t risk my future for a man, especially not one who dated my friend. Kisses, sex, feelings are too complicated for one summer.
“Ready to go?” I call out, as I take stock of everything I’ve packed in our massive striped tote for the day.
The plan is to go to the beach with Alex, catch some rays, read, play, build sandcastles, hopefully meet other kids who aren’t as, frankly, crappy, as that Leah girl. There must be other like-minded eleven-year-olds in Heatstroke.
Then again, I know what it’s like to not have friends. It was lucky that Cash, Olivia, and I found each other.
