June

I'd never been this disappointed to get out of the car and enter the house. Our trip was officially over. And fuck, had it been amazing! Only him and me, no Charlotte, our music, the wonderful Eddie Vedder, and that bruise on my left leg... Could we do it again, please? On repeat? I wouldn't mind walking into a bed over and over if that was the result.

Nathan was exhausted; his hair messy, his face white, movements slow. Couldn't blame him. We'd cut up the return journey in half, adding an extra —very uneventful— night in a motel in Los Angeles. That didn't take away he'd driven a total of twenty-two hours in four days. I almost felt guilty for not having my license. Sam had gotten his months ago, but when I'd done some research on driving with a disability, I realized quickly I'd need a ton of money and time to be able to. For now, I had enough people to transport me from place to place, and I was too busy with school to spend hours on lessons anyway. Maybe later.

"You gonna go to bed?" I asked, when he yawned extensively. He was such a sweetheart like this, sleepy, in jeans and a shirt — I think I preferred it over his fancy suits. I hadn't given him his sweater back after he lent it to me, and I wasn't planning to; it was way too comfy, like a permanent hug. I didn't care that the sleeves were impractically long, that I had to pull them back each time I needed my hands. It smelled like him. What else could a girl want?

"Yeah... Just gonna say hi to Charlotte first."

Of course. Her car had been in the driveway, behind Sam's. Even the thought of her couldn't burst my bubble of happiness. He turned around, probably assuming she was in the kitchen — and stumbled over one of the bags, luckily being able to find support from the wall, or he'd have fallen flat on his face.

"Easy there, man," I said, trying not to giggle. "We might've seen that concert, but that doesn't mean you can go ahead and break your neck." He sent me a deadly glare, one that made me laugh. "Come here, you poor guy. I'll get you inside safely." I couldn't believe my bravery in the last few days. Now again, casually linking my arm through his, our sides touching, warm body next to mine.

Nathan chuckled, shaking his head. "I think the only thing this will do is guarantee we'll fall together."

Probably. Didn't matter though. He'd just have more parts of my body to inspect, and I definitely didn't have any objections to that. Snickering, I 'helped' him into the kitchen, where the sight before me surprised me so much I only laughed louder.

Sam, sulkily staring at his tea.

Charlotte, eyes scanning me from head to toe.

Mr. Redstone, holding up an opened bottle of wine.

Mrs. Redstone, offering up her empty glass to him.

Oh. They were home. I felt Nathan stiffen, obviously as taken aback as me. What were they doing here? The house wasn't even theirs anymore. Yeah, sure, nobody had bothered to clean out their room, so they did have a bed to sleep in. But frankly, I'd assumed we'd never see them again.

"Nathan! Finally, there's my son!"

I blinked as I watched Mrs. Redstone get to her feet and kiss Nathan on both cheeks, forcing me to let go of him. What the hell was going on? When I met her, she hadn't been able to stand him... And suddenly he was her son again? What, because he was almost done with college and had caught a beautiful, rich girlfriend? Pff... Horrible woman!

I wanted to exchange exasperated looks with Sam, but he wasn't focusing on anything but his mug, shoulders slumping. If I didn't know any better, he'd just finished an eleven-hour drive as well. How long had their parents been home for already?

"Hi June, so nice to see you again." Mrs. Redstone turned to me, shocking me by kissing me too, even if it was a lot less enthusiastically. Sounded like nobody had gotten it through her botoxed head that I was perfectly capable of understanding her: she dragged out the words like I was wearing earplugs. Or maybe she was drunk; I smelled the alcohol on her breath, and it wasn't merely a little tinge. More like a tsunami. Ugh. I'd need some of that if I wanted to survive this situation. "I heard you and Nathan went on a trip. Did you have fun?"

She didn't wait for an answer, already making him sit down between her and Charlotte. He threw me a look over his shoulder, one that said "help me, I'm too tired to deal with this", and with a slight smile, I took place next to Sam. Mr. Redstone nodded awkwardly in Nathan's direction, then turned around to grab more wine glasses. He'd grown larger since the last time I saw him; it seemed he was trying to sprout himself a second chin.

Mrs. Redstone, on the other hand, was as attractive as ever, at least, if you were into plastic boobs and spoofed up lips. She'd been a pretty woman before all of her surgeries, although her fakeness had radiated from every pore of her skin even in the few pictures of her young self I'd seen. Nathan and Sam both possessed her looks, Nathan a little more than Sam, and combined with grandma Redstone's grandness, that had resulted in two really great guys. Who would've thought.

I tried to ignore Charlotte's hand, intertwined with Nathan's — that'd been me, two nights ago, when we hadn't wanted to lose each other in the crowd after the concert had ended. Seemed like things were back to normal again.

"Oh, no, honey!" Mrs. Redstone waved her arms dramatically, a convincing loving smile decorating her shiny face. "It's time for the champagne! We have to celebrate now that he's home."

Celebrate what? They weren't having another baby, right? Nah, she might've been a bad mother, she was a top-notch lawyer: she knew very well there could be consequences if she'd drink during pregnancy, medically and legally. Then what? They weren't moving back home to Palo Alto, were they? That'd be torture.

"Madeline, I just got back from Arizona... Can we do this some other time?" Nathan seemed alert all of a sudden, sitting up straight, eyes wide awake. What was going on? What did he know that I didn't?

"Oh, nonsense, you should be able to get through one toast — come on, Simon, hurry up!" The smile on her face was frightening; if she'd stretch her mouth any more than that, I was afraid her skin would tear.

For some reason, Nathan was looking at me, almost motionless. The image scared me, my heart beating fast, fingers curling up into fists in the long sleeves of his sweater. The others were babbling about the champagne while I kept his gaze, trying to read him — what was happening? What was he thinking about?

They popped the cork, and I almost tumbled to the floor, Mrs. Redstone cackling like it was the funniest thing she'd ever seen. Her husband poured four glasses, none for Sam and me. Nathan was attempting to break in on their weird happiness with unfinished sentences, Charlotte was frowning at him, and Sam seemed to not notice anything at all.

"Honey, careful, careful!"

Mr. Redstone nearly spilled all of the champagne when he picked his glass up with his plump fingers. Mrs. Redstone lifted hers, and then uttered two simple words that fucked up my entire world: "To London!"

London? They were beaming at our golden couple, and my stomach turned upside down as I realized what it meant.

At the other end of the table, Nathan's eyes apologized, begging me to understand, to forgive, or whatever. The rest hugged and kissed and cried out delightedly — somehow, they must've missed the sound of my heart breaking. The murmur became louder and louder, yet also farther away, and there was a buzzing in my head like I'd downed the whole bottle of champagne by myself.

"London? What?"

My voice came out so wrong everyone fell quiet, directing their attention to me.

No.

It couldn't be true.

No no no. It couldn't — there was no way he'd do that to me, no way that he wanted to be so far away from home.

"She didn't know yet?" Mrs. Redstone concluded. I was too busy sorting the thoughts running through my mind to even care that she was talking about me like I wasn't there.

"June, I — I'm..." Nathan ran his hands through his hair, apparently unable to choose some words I could make sense of, words that would explain it was a joke, or only something temporary, or that it wasn't what I thought it was.

"You said you were going to tell her during the trip!" She took his attention from me, like she'd done many times in the past year.

"I did, yeah, but then... it didn't seem like the right time." His voice was weak, as if he'd already realized how feeble that excuse was.

It didn't seem like the right time. He'd had an infinity of opportunities to tell me. In the car, just now. In the five hours it took us to get home. Or did he mean that night, me in nothing more than a shirt in his bed? Or when Eddie played Just Breathe and he wrapped his arms around my waist? It wasn't like I'd read anything into it — well, maybe a little bit — but knowing what I knew now, it seemed like a cruel thing to do. Making me love him more. Handing me more treasured memories to hold onto. Pretending there was a chance, while all along, she'd already won.

I dug my nails into my jeans, my hands sweaty and shaking. I looked up to Charlotte — was that genuine empathy, or acted? What made them decide now? Had she chosen to believe me about him not cheating on her? Or was she attempting to move him far away from whatever girl she suspected him of spending time with? Away from me and Sam, the two people who didn't really like her all that much? "Congrats," I wanted to say, but nothing happened. I was used to my body tweaking my commands; full denial of any obedience, however, was new.

Next to me, Sam shot up from his chair, knocking over his mug in the process. Someone screeched as the honey liquid spread out over the table, dribbling down to the floor. His face was hardened, and he was trembling — I'd never seen him this angry. "So you could tell me, but you couldn't tell her?" he said, his voice gruff, like he hadn't used it in a while. "How long were you planning on making me hide it from her, huh?" He kicked the table, with all of his frustration, and I flinched. "Some brother you are! You're leaving, and who do you take on a trip? Me? No, of course not! You take June. Who could be more important, after all?" Another kick, a frustrated cry, and he stomped away, making sure to slam each door he met on his way shut with as much force as he could muster. I winced with each bang, only I was too confused to feel sorry for him, to call after him.

Sam had known.

That was why he'd been sulking that morning. Because he knew.

"Now, now," Mrs. Redstone said. "Some temper that boy has got. I tell you, he's got it from your father, Simon. Do you remember when you told him we were getting married?" Mr. Redstone grunted something. "June, you and Sam should be very happy for Nathan. It's an amazing opportunity for someone his age. Imagine the places it could take him!"

I didn't want to imagine the places it could take him. None of those places was going to be here, with me and Sam.

That was when I choked up, when it fully dawned on me what this meant. No more lying on the carpet together, listening to music. No more laughing at Sam together. No more worrying about Hayley together, or joking about Charlotte's Britishness. No more studying together, no more falling asleep on the couch together. No more cooking together. No more dancing. No more hugs.

I drew my chair back, legs scraping over the kitchen tiles. "I am happy for him," I said, and it came out somewhat normal. I took a deep, shaky breath, getting up, my limbs seemingly made of iron. "I'm just not that happy for me and Sam." They were all staring at me while I hurried off, my movements stiff, rigid — when did walking become this difficult?

I stumbled upstairs to my room, almost falling down the stairs in the process, and dove into my bed. I knew I should've stayed, I should've congratulated them, should've wished them all the good luck in the whole world, should've asked what they'd be doing there, should've pretended to be interested. It would've been the polite thing to do.

But they couldn't see me cry like this. And I couldn't hold back.

The match between June Mercedes Guevara Aranda and Charlotte Rutherford was over, if there ever was one. And I'd lost. Like I always should've known I would.