June

The house was too quiet. Lying still in bed, I could hear my own breathing, loud like someone had turned up my internal volume. Sometimes, something buzzed below me, probably the fridge in the kitchen, and once or twice, a car drove by, the engine purring softly. No endless streams of traffic, sprinkled with ambulance and police sirens. No neighbors watching tv, or people shouting at each other, or a rumbling bass from a party downstairs. No Luis producing a cute hiccup, or Valentina coming home from a late shift. It should've been heavenly, but instead, it left me alone with my thoughts, raging through my mind without end.

Half an hour after I'd went up, Nathan's footsteps clambered up the stairs, heavy and slow — I could still recognize them. Maybe it was a bit like music. No matter how old you were, no matter how long ago it'd been since you listened to a song, you would instantly remember the second it came on.

I'd tried to focus on falling asleep, only it hadn't worked. The sounds of the tap running and being turned off, the vague whirring of a toothbrush in the distance, and him walking past my door set me on edge, and I'd buried my head in my pillow, trying to drown out everything around me. Around midnight, just when I'd seemed to slow down my heartbeat a little, he left his room again, gently descending the stairs. He came back up almost immediately. What had he been doing? Checking if he'd locked the door?

Why did I even care? I was here for the money, and I'd gotten it. That was all. Tomorrow, I'd book a return flight and pack up again, and I would not, under any circumstances, ask why he and Charlotte had broken up, if it'd been my fault, and if he missed her like I'd been missing him these past two years.

Because deep in the night was the only time I allowed myself to be painfully honest.

When Valentina had asked me if he knew I'd be coming, I lied and said yes. If I'd confessed to her he didn't, she would've called him herself, I was sure. First, I hadn't dared to admit to myself why I didn't want to announce my visit. After sticking my key in the front door and finding out the code to the burglar alarm hadn't changed, I hadn't been able to deny it anymore.

It gave me a choice to turn back.

What if I'd stumbled over baby wipes and a life-size wedding portrait hanging on the wall? Or what if he'd completely redone the place, erasing all traces of me? Or worse, what if Charlotte would be lounging on the couch?

In all those scenarios, I couldn't imagine wanting anything except for running far, far away.

Luckily for me, none of it had come true. No kids. No wife. No new kitchen. No Charlotte.

"Morning."

He turned around, a wide smile unfolding on his handsome face when he spotted me standing there. For some unknown reason, he was wearing oven mitts, the orange ones with burned fingertips, which contrasted hilariously with his dark blue jeans and toned arms. I concluded yesterday he must've taken up a sport, because never before had he had muscles like these. It looked damn delicious on him, and something in me wished I'd have stumbled across a Nathan with a beer belly instead, sitting in his boxers on the couch with chips crumbs strewn about his shirt. It would've made me feel better, anyway. I left his life, and he made it into something better. Great.

"Morning," he said, taking off the mitts and throwing them on the counter. "You slept in late."

Stop smiling like that, with your ocean blue eyes. It wasn't making this any easier. I was going to leave soon — this was not an invitation for us to become friends again. That would only end in hurt, and I'd hurt enough already. "Guess I had to make use of the situation. It's been months since I could."

It was. With a sigh, I placed my phone on the table, again pressing the home button to check if I'd missed any messages. None. After sacrificing hours and hours of sleep, it seemed Luis got by fine without me. That, or Valentina had accidentally set fire to the building and was too afraid for my reaction to call me. Somehow that thought was more comforting.

"Well, you should. After all, this is like a mini-vacation, right?"

I tensed, trying to hide it by awkwardly walking to the fridge. Automatically, I inspected the floor underneath it. Dry. God, how I loved this kitchen and everything in it — except for him then. Ever since he stumbled upon me in the living room, a restless vibe had been clouding us, like we were in this play and neither of us knew each other's lines or our own ones, for that matter. It was obvious he wanted it to end as soon as possible, curtains drawn. He wouldn't have kept asking me how many days I'd be here otherwise. Yeah, he'd said I could stay as long as I liked, but that didn't mean he meant it. He'd seemed pretty relieved when I'd announced I was going to bed last night.

"Yeah," I said, opening the door of the fridge. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

Oh... Look at all that food... Again, I was met with a surge of jealousy — how long it'd been since I could afford to buy every vegetable I needed, and here, right in front of me, was a whole variety of them, purchased at the supermarket yesterday. He could afford all this, and on top of that, he could fund two college educations, no problem. When I was younger, I'd never had an issue with it, but maybe that was because then it'd been mine too, in some ways. I didn't need a Lexus, I didn't need a flatscreen tv, though to have a fully operational fridge and no trouble with getting a healthy meal together sounded like absolute heaven.

A sneer touched my lips, remembering when Nathan, Sam, and I would be browsing for charities together, looking for the ones to support in the coming year. Surreal. We only have two houses, we aren't that rich. Of course. But now Nathan was working too, and Sam would soon get access to the trust fund set up by their grandma. How much did family lawyers make? Oh, come on, June. It wasn't like you hadn't Googled it.

Without warning, a piercing beeping emitted from above me, and I startled, bumping my elbow into the white bottle of wine from yesterday. Shit. That was right. The fridge would warn you if you left it open for too long. Quickly, I closed it. "Sorry," I said, turning around, expecting to find him laughing at me.

Only he wasn't. He was holding my phone, frowning down at it, his shoulders tense.

Oh no... Did something happen? Did Vale actually set fire to the building? My hands clenched into fists. "What's wrong?"

Slowly, he looked up, his eyes meeting mine, widened in shock, something in them I couldn't place. He held up the screen, showing me my background, the picture of me kissing Luis on his cheek. "Is he... is he yours?"

Oh. This wasn't the first time I'd gotten that question, although it was the first time it made me flush scarlet. That'd happened way too often since I'd returned. Stop blushing like a ten-year-old, June. It was only Nathan. There was no reason to transform into a tomato every five minutes you were in his company. Get yourself together. I opened my mouth, ready to contest his conclusions, when I closed it again. On a whim, I crossed my arms over my chest, nodding my head. "Well, yeah," I said. And just like that, I felt in full control again — tricking him, like I used to, and he was totally falling for it. Time to make him sweat a bit.

He stiffened, gaze flickering from the phone to me. I let out a dramatic sigh, then tried to casually lean against the counter. "I might have been a little reckless," I said. "But I mean, you know what it's like, right? The temptation. You just can't help yourself. And then this is what you get." By now, he should've known I was making stuff up. Judging by the fact he was frozen in place, his when-is-June-lying-skills hadn't been kept up to standards. A laugh bubbled up in my stomach, and with all my might, I tried to keep it there. He should've known better than to believe me. "I mean, I knew I was in for trouble. The guy was my teacher, so of course there would be. Only I didn't think it'd be this kind of trouble. I tell you, condoms really suck. I think it was me, you know, because I can never get them out of the package without using my teeth. Seriously, the minute I stop breastfeeding, I'm gonna get on birth control."

He usually already didn't have much color in his white face, and now the little he did have seemed to have left him as well. "June, I'm — I..."

Oh please... How could he not see I was tricking him?

The poor guy was taking this hard — and I was enjoying it way too much. Finally, I let out that laugh. "You should see yourself right now," I said, my shoulders shaking. He was visibly confused by my reaction, pulling at his blond strands, his eyes narrowed. "He's not mine, you fool. David knocked up this woman, and she left the baby with him one day, never to be seen again. So, now we take care of him, Vale, David, and me."

Instantly, he drew in a long breath, running his hand through his hair. "Damn, June... You scared me." As if it'd burned him, he quickly placed my phone back on the table.

I grinned at him. Didn't he remember my made-up stories? "Your own fault. You shouldn't have assumed the worst. Besides..." I stuck out my stomach in his direction, pointing at it. Granted, it wasn't as flat as it used to be — however, seeing as I was nineteen, stress-eating during nights Luis kept me up or I had to finish a website for a client, and had to live on cheap food, I thought that was excusable. Also, I still looked good. "What did you think? I could pop out a baby and look like this only nine months later? Don't tell me you think I got fat."

He only stared at me, unmoving. Then, his eyes traveled down my body, and he chuckled shortly, like he couldn't believe what was happening. "Definitely not. But I don't think I could still throw you over my shoulder that easily."

In that moment, I was really not picturing him picking me up and doing exactly that because that was not what I was here for. And I really did not focus on his arms again. I swore. "What are those muscles then, fake?"

As if he needed a reminder, he threw a glance at them. "Oh, yeah. Been swimming every now and then."

Swimming. Him in swim shorts, stepping out of the pool as millions of water drops trickled down his skin, his hair flying everywhere as he shook his head — oh god, June, stop this right this instant! Oh no. I shouldn't be thinking this. What was I doing? It'd been much better when I'd still been so nervous about the money I couldn't think about anything else. "Well," I said, glad that my voice came out relatively normal. "It has — it has paid off, obviously." Ugh. I saw men like him every day, grunting like animals and attempting to pin you down with one smoldering stare, and it never worked on me, so why, without even needing to take any effort, did he have this effect on me?

There was one of those smiles, smug and shy at the same time — how did he even manage to do that? "If you want," he said, taking a few steps towards me, "we can go swimming later? Like we used to? Or now?"

"What are you doing?"

He was nearing in on me, the ocean blue way too close, too bright and too tantalizing. My hands clasped the countertop behind me, almost painfully powerful. "Celebrating our tradition?" he said, a little hesitant.

I knew that was the moment I should say "no", should say "stop, what do you think you're doing?".

The only sound that escaped my mouth, however, was a breathy laugh, and apparently, he took that as me giving permission — the next moment, he seized me by my waist, attempting to lift me up. A short shriek echoed through the kitchen. In a flash, I realized it was mine, and that I was laughing. Through the fabric of my shirt, his touch burned my skin, my heart beating violently.

"No, no, no..." With the last part of my mind that still seemed to work, I bumped my fists into his stomach, using all my strength to push him away. He chuckled, pulling me closer in return, and I was hit by the scent of him — for a moment, it threw me off, and somehow, I ended up crashing into his chest. Ouch. That was hard. My nose throbbed, and I wormed around in his tight grip, trying to get free, with him laughing all the while. "I am not going into that pool!"

"Yeah, you are. You deserve it. Pretending to have a kid..."

And then, out of nowhere it seemed, I was pressed against him, my back to his front, his arms around my waist, in a strange, accidental embrace. Both of us stopped struggling, just standing there as the heat rose to my cheeks. Every single spot of my body seemed highly aware of his, blood rushing through my veins. I closed my eyes, reveling in the feeling of for once not being alone, of just being held, recalling us in the crowd of the Eddie Vedder concert —

shit, what was I doing? What was he doing? Get your head together, June!

This was not going to happen. Not again.

I pushed his hands away, and instantly, he let go, so easily that I was thrown off balance and almost fell. When I was sure my mouth wouldn't strain, I turned towards him, attempting to glare at him. This was the guy who hurt you, June. Who kissed you and then ran away. And yes, he was still amazing, but it'd be insensible to fall back in love. That was not me anymore. I was not that easy.

He took a step back, avoiding my gaze. "Sorry, I got... I got carried away."

"It's fine," I said, although it wasn't. He wasn't allowed to pretend nothing happened, to act like we were still close enough to push each other in the pool like a couple of kids. Suddenly, I wished I would've asked him money for a hotel. It would've been easier. For a second, I wanted to make a big deal out of it, shout at him how much it'd hurt when he abandoned me, like a part of me had been ripped from my body — then I remembered that was not what I was here for.

What was I here for again?

My mind was blank, as if someone had selected all the words in a document and pressed delete, replacing everything with his name. "Err, what was I doing? Oh, right. Have you had breakfast yet?"

"Oh, yeah!" His face lit up, similar to when we used to watch Lord of the Rings and Galadriel would start speaking. He grabbed the mitts, hurrying to the oven. When he opened it, a delicious, rich smell drifted towards me, making me aware of how hungry I was. There, on the baking sheet, eight perfectly rolled croissants were turning brown, just begging me to eat them. "I think they still need a minute or two," he said, like it was normal he was making his own croissants. There was a time he hadn't even known how to make pancakes.

I stepped closer, inspecting the delicately rising pastries, sweating golden in the heat of the oven. They could've been on the cover of a baking magazine. "Since when do you do this?" I asked, even though I didn't really want to know. I was the one who taught him to cook — but I had no idea how to make croissants.

"Oh, err," he said, messing up his hair again. "Since Nadine showed me how to. It's easier than you think though — you can buy this ready-made dough, and all you have to do is roll them up. I looked into making them from scratch once, but it's a lot of work."

He was rambling, and it wasn't like him. When he was nervous, he usually shut up, not saying anything at all. I forced my fist into my side to keep it still. It was obvious what was going on, and I hated that it hurt so much, like someone had decided to bake my heart. "Nadine?" I said, my voice a little constrained. Of course he had had other girls. Look at him. He had had other girls, while for me, he was still the only one I'd ever kissed. It was so unfair.

"Yeah... Ex-girlfriend. Very short. Didn't work at all." A wavering smile, like he'd known what had been going on in my head, and I couldn't help but relax. Ex. That meant I didn't have to meet another one of his gorgeous girlfriends.

"No wonder. Nadine and Nathan. That's like one of those hiking couples in unisex clothes." It sounded like I didn't care, which was undoubtedly my biggest lie yet. I did care. Too much. That another girl had stood here and helped him navigate his way through the kitchen.

He laughed, too loudly for the joke. "Yeah..." He wanted to stick his hands in his pockets, forgetting that he was still wearing a mitt. With hasty movements, he threw the orange thing back on the counter, then focused on me again. "How about you? You didn't really have any illicit affairs with teachers, did you?"

I huffed. If only... Maybe then, him having had a girlfriend who made him roll up dough would've been less jarring. My love life had been a complete disaster. Out of the two dates I'd been on, forced by Valentina, one guy seemed to have some sort of disability fetish, and the other was just plain boring. "Nah," I said, again like I didn't care. "Really not much to tell."

"Good." When he saw me looking, he added hastily: "I mean... Good that you haven't slept with a teacher."

But maybe it wasn't. Because if I would've had a baby, if I would've been a mother, I wouldn't have been here, imagining how he snaked his arms around another woman's waist while they bent down to peer into the oven together, and somewhere deep down, wishing he'd do the same with me.