June

My dad told me a story today

Something about mom, five-hour commutes, and

fresh perspectives

Wish I could believe him

But he tells me he's fine

That the cigarettes aren't his

That mom isn't crying

I wonder, is he lying

or wasn't his heart the only thing to be attacked?

He seems to forget the crucial point

That mom was his

But you were never mine

Useless. I couldn't even get my feelings down on paper. This didn't describe the constant supply of tears threatening to leave my eyes all day, didn't describe the desire to scratch open Charlotte's perfect face, didn't describe how I wondered if I should just kiss him every single time I saw him — it wasn't like I had anything to lose, right?

Why write if I was incapable of translating those emotions into words? Why wonder if I should kiss him if I was an unattractive leaking tap the whole last night we spent together in who knew how long? Something he'd said long ago had been glued to the front of my mind, pushing me to take action. I didn't have the courage. Missed my chance to have the real thing.

But what if I wasn't the real thing?

What if I was?

What if he was my real thing, but I wasn't his?

Those questions exhausted me, as did pretending to be cheerful on the morning of their leave, which resulted in this, me in the backseat next to Hayley, leaning my head against the window, trying to fight the nausea present in my stomach since the night I found out. It'd grown worse with each passing day, and right now, I was sure I'd throw up if I even opened my mouth for one second.

Hayley was holding my hand, and, to my astonishment, Sam's, who sat to the right of her, red-eyed, glassily staring at the landscape shooting by. He and Nathan had spent a day at the beach together, a week ago, and we'd held a movie marathon afterward — no idea what we'd watched. I'd tried to hold onto it, to imprint it on my memory... I failed. I couldn't remember anything but the way I'd felt, and that was something I rather forgot.

It seemed like most of us rather forgot. The only one who was talking, the only one who seemed genuinely excited, was Charlotte, in the front seat, chattering on about what she'd missed in the last few years. Proper tea. Rain. Real chocolate. I didn't think anyone was listening to her, except for Nathan.

Luckily, it was only a twenty-minute drive to the airport, or I wouldn't have survived. I mustered up all of the energy left in me to participate in Charlotte's thrilled search for the right baggage check-in — they'd send most of their stuff ahead, only carrying a few essentials. While she put her suitcase on the moving band, I wondered what would happen if I pushed her on it too, if she'd disappear in the blackness, never to be seen again. I was too exhausted to try it out.

Time never seemed to be on my side. First, it made sure I was too young, and now, it sped up until we reached the moment we had to say goodbye. Hayley had told me to confess to him, to make him stay, but I knew by now she never really meant for me to play out her bold plans.

Maybe I should, though.

Maybe it was the only option I had left.

"Oh, no, Nathan, look who's here!" Charlotte pointed to something behind us, and I turned to find a group of people walking towards us, all of them their age, all of them immaculate and confident and mature. I watched silently while they greeted Nathan and Charlotte, saying goodbye at the same time, pledging they'd visit when they could. Who were these people? How long had he known them? Why did they think they had the right to barge in on these last few hours? They talked and laughed like they saw each other every day, only adding to my already large pile of hurt. Maybe he shared less with me than I'd thought.

"Yes, yes, eleven hours on a plane — a nightmare! But at least I won't have to go through it alone this time around..."

A subtle pounding was coming to force near the front of my skull, making me dizzy. I wished they'd go on their way, but no, we all sat down at a table in the plaza, Sam, Hayley and me squashed on a bench together. None of us three said anything; we only observed the people around us, Sam for once seemingly not interested in college girls.

I knew I was staring at Nathan, slumped back in his chair, running his hands through his hair every few minutes — was he nervous? I couldn't stop myself. It was like my brain was telling me to savor him as much as possible, and there was no room available for other commands.

He wasn't looking at me at all. Had he made peace with it already? Yeah, he'd said he was going to miss me. But there was a great range when it came to missing someone, from feeling a small tinge of sadness every so often, to being paralyzed, straight-up bawling all the time, and unable to consume anything but chocolate. I was probably doomed to be on the most dramatic side of the spectrum.

"So, are you three going to miss our Nate?"

It took me a while before I realized one of the girls was talking to us. Sam had already nodded, Hayley had uttered a stammering "yeah", and the one thing that came to my mind was that that might've been the densest question I'd ever heard. And I'd heard a lot of dense questions in my life. By the way, what was she getting at, calling him "our Nate"? Ridiculous! He wasn't theirs, and shortening his name like that was embarrassing! It didn't suit him at all; it sounded like he was some sort of snotty, arrogant frat boy. It wasn't him.

"Aww, how cute! I think this one's got a crush on you, Nathan. Look, she's blushing! Isn't she adorable?"

Could someone please strangle this girl? I hadn't been blushing — I was angry, and I had no idea how she could've interpreted that this way. I wanted to roast her, say something containing a maximum amount of swear words, but now Nathan's attention had turned to me, and suddenly, I couldn't move my mouth at all.

"Fuck off, Georgina," he said. "She's sixteen, not a fucking toddler."

Oh. Seemed like I didn't need to defend myself. The table fell silent, for some reason. The girl crossed her legs, sucking her cheeks in. "Sorry. No need to get your panties in a twist. I was just making a joke."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't funny."

Finally, finally, I felt his eyes on me, and then I couldn't look back, my body tense, hands clawing into the naked skin of my legs, creating lasting red spots, making me wish I hadn't chosen to wear shorts that day. Coward. He was right — it hadn't been funny. It had been the truth, however, or some version of it.

Since when was I too scared to say the truth out loud?

The group left soon after, fortunately. The mood had turned grim; even Charlotte couldn't keep up her cheerful demeanor, suddenly quiet, constantly biting her lip. Nathan's hair was messy due to him repeatedly running his hands through it, and every few minutes, he checked if he still had his passport, frantically going through the papers in his bag. He'd told me last year he didn't like flying. I was starting to suspect he was terrified of it.

I'd never flown. When we moved here, we'd driven all the way from New York, as it'd been cheaper. It seemed magical, though, in the sky, a glittering mass of water beneath you... I could also imagine it was unnerving, especially to someone like him, who was used to being in control. No wonder he seemed to be on the verge of having a breakdown.

"I think we should be going through security now."

She was probably right. But it meant we had to let them go, and I was so not ready to let him go.

Last chance, June.

Now or never.

Seemed like Sam was having some sort of the same internal struggle: he practically jumped at his brother, hugging him tighter than I'd ever seen him do, and I couldn't watch it — tears were gathering in the corners of my eyes, heavy and small.

I turned to Charlotte, wondering if I could slap her and make it seem like a spastic movement. Before I could make up my mind, we'd exchanged awkward semi-ghost-kisses, she letting out a nervous giggle. Could she see how much I hated her right now? It must've been written all over my face, must've been apparent in my jerky motions. "I'm sure we'll see each other soon," she said, with one of her gorgeous smiles. She'd better be telling the truth. I was in desperate need of some truth.

It was when my eyes met his, and he approached me for one last embrace, that I broke down at last, releasing all of my tears to let them meander freely over my face. He held me close, arms wrapped securely around me. For a moment, I pretended we were the only ones there, that he wasn't about to leave me. He smelled like fresh sweat — he was really dreading having to be high up in the sky. I wished I could be there for him, make jokes and hold his hand and distract him with long stories. But that wasn't my job. It was hers.

It should've been mine.

He let me go, slowly, hands traveling up to rest on my cheeks, to gently wipe away the traces of me crying. My breath hitched in my throat as I looked up at him, in the ocean blue, and the fluttering in my stomach became more tumultuous than ever — another heart attack. My gaze was glued to his, so close to me — what was that emotion, shimmering near the surface? Sorrow? Regret? Love?

Love for his little sister?

Paralyzed, I seemed, even though I had no idea how much time was passing. The noise around us died down, highlighting my fast-beating heart. He was there, within my reach, his fingers heating up my skin — I could feel him breathing — I could... I could kiss him.

I could.

Was it smart?

I didn't really care.

It took all of me to stand up on my tiptoes — a few inches... — I wasn't sure what I was doing, fists curled up, eyelids fluttering, only the feeling of him near me, something building up in the pit of my stomach, as if I was perched on the edge of a rooftop — I didn't want to be without him... surely, him going wasn't supposed to happen — please, don't let me go — don't let me go — don't go... So so close...

At the last moment, all sound around me returned, ten times as loud as it should've been, and I realized what I was doing — quickly, I kissed him on his cheek, near enough to his lips to set my nerves on edge. I was trembling all over, breathing fast, too shocked by myself to do anything but stare at him.

He was staring right back.

"Nathan, you have my ticket, haven't you?"

It was like nothing happened. Like no one had noticed. Impossible. They must've heard my heart beating, they must've been swept away by the intensity of it — they must've lost hold of gravity, like I was right now, fearing I'd fall if I moved even a little.

And then, he looked away, and whatever was pulling me to him was shattered into pieces, and I stumbled in place, trying to recall how this thing called 'staying alive' worked. Before I could decide on anything else, we were walking towards the check-in line, Nathan throwing me glances over his shoulder continuously, his eyes large, a slight tremor to his hands; the tickets he held were shaking — he was so scared. It wouldn't be self-serving to ask him to stay, right? If he didn't want to fly anyway? And there was no other way to get there, so he'd just have to remain here. With me.

I was about to say something, to be honest and spill what I should've spilled earlier, when Charlotte reached out for his hand, and he took hers. He smiled at her, a smile I wished would've been directed at me, and that's when it hit me.

He was leaving in a short while.

With a girl he loved, a girl who loved him.

He was in a good place.

If I'd say something now, it'd be incredibly selfish, and probably cause more harm than good. This wasn't a movie. I wasn't going to be able to outrun the guards and jump over fences and dash up the stairs to declare my undying love — and it certainly wouldn't result in a spectacular, heart-stopping kiss dripping with romance.

No. I'd be the foolish teenager making a scene. I'd end up on the internet again, going viral with a caption so embarrassing I'd never go outside again, and no dancing or rings would be able to soothe me.

It was like Charlotte had told me.

Some things were better left unsaid.

So, we waved at them from a distance, and then they were gone. I was drained, completely empty, staring at the place where they'd disappeared.

"Let's go home," Sam mumbled.

I didn't think that was still possible.