June

I couldn't keep my hands still. I'd already hurt myself because of it, accidentally, by scratching my arm, welling up a drop of blood. So now I just held the fabric of my dress, squeezing it that hard I was going to leave wrinkles.

In a minute, I'd be arriving at Albert and Will's place, and Nathan would be there. Waiting for me? Would he tell me he loved me again?

I hadn't slept at all that night, not with Hayley snoring and those three words echoing through my mind, asking me what I wanted, what I was going to do. But secretly, I knew. My anger was subsiding — I'd never been good at holding onto it — and Charlotte, well, if he really meant it, he could do something about that.

He could prove it. He could prove it, and be freed of that manipulative bitch, and then —

I tried not to think of it. I'd imagined it so many times, though now, so close to actually having it, it scared the shit out of me.

Having everything you ever wished for. What was that like?

"Ya llegamos, señorita," the Uber driver said.

We were there. This was it.

"Gracias, señor."

I took a deep breath and opened the door, immediately being met with the sweet spring warmth of today. Perfect party weather, Hayley had said this morning as she was doing my hair, pretending to not have noticed my nervousness. I hadn't told her what happened — that'd make it real, and she would definitely not understand, and I would've had to admit I was acting irrationally. I hadn't been ready for that. Maybe I still wasn't.

I stepped out of the car. The sky-blue dress Hayley lent me fell down my legs, all the way to my ankles, sneakily hiding the fact I was wearing my old trainers. It was a little tight at my chest, though Hayley had squealed I looked beautiful and would definitely steal the show.

I didn't really want to steal the show.

Maybe just a heart, if I was ready to be that honest. And give one in return.

The thought unleashed a soft sea breeze in my stomach, and I clutched my purse tighter, trying to stay in control of my body. I looked up, for the first time noticing the house in front of me. It was in the familiar Mediterranean style, with only one story and traditional orange-reddish roof, palm trees and fuchsias surrounding it. Probably Will's taste. Somehow, I didn't see Albert going for something this homely.

The driveway was long, and from here, I wasn't able to look inside, especially since the windows were obscured by trees. But I'd spotted his car, that ridiculous Lexus, at the beginning of the street — all because of me. I was the one who'd once pointed out there was no need for him to park so close to whatever his destination was: he could walk fine. For some reason, he'd never gone against me whenever I said things like that, just complied like it was an actual written law.

Why did I get mad at him again, yesterday?

I couldn't really remember, though I wanted to, wanted to have a reason, be in the right — or maybe it was okay sometimes to be mad and not exactly know why.

And maybe it was also okay sometimes to let go of that anger and not exactly know why.

Contrary to the past week, I wasn't falling down the hill anymore — I was rising up, and my stomach lurched nervously with every inch.

I was going to have to go in, and face Nathan.

Face the future, good or bad.

Just then, right when I was about to force myself to march up the driveway, the sound of a car coming down the street stopped me in my tracks. Another rich person, judging by the model. For some reason, I kept watching, waiting to see who would step out, almost like I knew.

The door at the driver's side opened. Two pale pink heels emerged, steadying themselves on the road.

Of course. Just my luck.

Charlotte slammed the door shut, brushing her pale blonde hair from her face as she pressed her key and the car beeped, telling her she'd locked it.

Then, she looked up and found me standing there.

She'd always been observant, in that sort of way that she could perfectly recount what everyone had been wearing at a certain occasion, and I guess there was no way she could've missed me. Her mouth fell open, just a little.

There was something different about her. How she carried herself, proud and sure and yet relaxed. Almost like she'd come straight from a lazy hour at the beach, sunglasses on top of her head, wearing a long-sleeved black dress embroidered with peach-colored flowers, matching her shoes. She was still gorgeous, maybe even more than before, and an old jealousy flared up, crumbling all of the confidence I'd carefully gathered in the past few hours.

She shook her head — no idea why. With her gaze still on me, she neared me, only stopping when she was three steps away from me. Her majesty the queen Charlotte. Well, not really, or maybe just from some sort of southern nation. Her skin was sun-tanned to a golden brown, freckles standing out clearer than ever, meaning she wasn't wearing as much make-up as she used to. Elegant fingers held a pink clutch, also matching, again like she was reminding me she was the one in perfect control of herself.

"Oh," she said, "I didn't know you were going to be here."

What did you say to a girl you'd once betrayed by kissing her boyfriend, but who was so clearly doing great, being amazing? Scratch that — what did you say to a woman like her? Girl Charlotte was definitely gone. And fuck, it was so good on her.

"Err, yeah," I said, because I was afraid I might just disappear into nothing if I didn't start talking again. "I didn't know you were coming too. I mean, until last night. When N...— Sam told me. Yeah. I hope you don't mind."

Oh, for god's sake, June, stop your rambling. It wasn't necessary. This was Charlotte, remember? You might've been a bitch to her, but she was a bitch too, manipulative and shrewd, remember?

Only, she seemed so innocent. How did she do that?

She smiled, showing me her dimples. Why was she smiling? She should hate me. I'd kissed her boyfriend.

Or didn't she know it'd been me?

I was such a piece of shit.

"Nice of you to come," she said. "Are you visiting Sam?"

"Err, yeah."

"How nice," she said again. Maybe she was feeling just as awkward as me, and I couldn't blame her. She nodded a bit, then pointed at the house. "Do you by any chance know if Nathan's here yet? My phone isn't working, so I couldn't reach him."

My stomach twisted, and I stumbled in place, trying to swallow the large brick that seemed to be stuck in my throat. This was going to ruin everything. Look at her. She was the kind of woman who got everything she wished for, not me. And what if Nathan was that thing she wanted to have? What if that was why she made up that story about traveling the world, or what if he'd lied after all and they were together?

But he loved me, remember?

Why would he lie about that?

What if he forgot the moment he laid eyes on her, though?

"Yeah, I saw his car parked down the street," I said, my voice already weirder than usual. "You should go in. He's probably waiting for you."

"You're not coming?" She frowned, scanning me from head to toe, that habit of hers I despised.

I tensed, my hands already in fists. She wasn't seeing what I saw, probably, wasn't impressed or blown away by my beauty — pretty but disabled, nothing special, that was me in her eyes. And it was childish and illogical but oh, did I want her to be jealous of me for a change. "I'm just waiting for Sam."

"Okay. See you in a bit, then."

I kept my gaze on her car as she walked up the driveway, heels clicking loudly, not trusting myself to turn around. How could I go inside, knowing she was there, better than ever, obviously after Nathan — why else would she go to these lengths?

I could just as well go to the airport right now — I'd only have to wait two hours, and then I'd be up in the air.

Sometimes, there were these moments I was so tired of my own mind, I stopped thinking entirely and just was. I didn't know how long it took this time, but when it ended, I knew what I wanted to happen, what might happen, because why would he lie to me?

I was going to go in, and he was going to say it again, and I was going to say it back and cancel my flight.

Charlottes couldn't be the only ones who got their happy endings, right?

She wasn't going to take him away from me. Not again.

I broke into a run, almost tripping on the long dress. Slow down, June. Nothing sexy about scraped knees. Lifting up my skirt, I hurried towards the front door and rang the bell. I pressed my fist into my side, suddenly feeling like I had to pee, or throw up, or both.

The door opened, revealing an older black man in a suit, a cheerful party hat strapped to his head. He smiled at me, warm and welcoming, and I immediately knew who this must be. "Hello," he said with a deep voice, "you must be June. I'm Will. Happy to meet you."

I heard myself saying something back, being polite, making a joke, all the while the need to pee and puke was growing until I excused myself and fled to the bathroom.

My fingers were shaking, my palms sweaty, and I was burning up. I almost dipped my dress in the toilet when I sat down, and I could barely squeeze a drop out.

Wash hands. Water in my face. Dry hands. Deep breath.

I felt like I must be a mess. The mirror, however, told me differently, showing me looking as beautiful as I could be, curls running down my back, cheeks rosy, brown eyes wide awake and not backing away. Yes, beautiful — that is what he had called me. Thinking of it made my stomach jump up and down. Beautiful. And he could've meant it.

He could've always been meaning everything.

There was no going back now. Time to get that happy ending.

Will was in the kitchen, talking to a woman in a white uniform, probably responsible for the dishes of food lining the counters. He smiled at me, then gestured to a point behind me. I followed his directions, heart beating in my chest, slowing down with every step, until finally, I arrived at a wide-open double door, leading to the yard.

It wasn't hard to find them. Either they hadn't invited many people, or I was early. Nathan had his back to me, standing beneath a high iron structure overgrown with some climbing plant, talking to Charlotte. It stung, and it stung that she was smiling brightly, like she'd forgiven him for what he'd done to her. She did know, right?

Next to her stood two people who must be her parents, her mother throwing sideways glances to the dress her daughter was wearing, nose up in the air, her father discussing something with Albert and another guy, someone I didn't know.

Come on, June. You said Nathan was a coward. Don't be one yourself.

I stepped out onto the deck, the floorboards creaking a little. I could hear their voices now, parts of conversations, Charlotte's laugh —

Nathan half turned away from them, and for a short, short fantastical second, I thought he might've sensed me standing there, but he only got something out of his pocket, probably his phone, then reached to put it back again.

That was when the guy next to him cried out.

I wasn't the only one who flinched. Charlotte and her mother did as well, I heard them yell something like "Edward, what on earth?!".

But I didn't really care that he startled me. Not when he'd yanked the object from Nathan's hand, and held it up high for everyone to see — not a phone.

A small red box.

The type of small that was reserved for only one thing.

A ring.

"Family!" he called out, almost jumping up and down in excitement. "Look at what I just found. What is this?" He shoved it in Charlotte's face, Nathan just standing there paralyzed. "Is this a surprise engagement party, perhaps?"

I gasped. Tears pricked behind my eyelids, and my heart stopped working altogether.

That was a shiny new ring box, and it wasn't meant for me.

He lied after all.

He lied.

How could he do that to me?

I didn't need to see any more than that.

I lifted my skirt, and ran, like Cinderella from the ball, only I wouldn't leave my shoe behind — no one who would bother to search for the owner anyway. Back inside, through the hall, try not to puke... Go, Cinderella, go. Before you fall apart.

He lied.

How could you lie that you loved someone?

My head was throbbing, and thinking was hard — the only thing I saw was that red box, that shiny, new red box. When had he bought it, and why, if he already had it, did he tell me he loved me?

Did he still think that was what I needed to hear?

How could you lie?

Maybe it was easy, though. Maybe it was a thing all people did, like my mother to me, and Vale's boyfriends to her. Maybe I'd inherited the naivety of my father, believing people would never lie about something like that.

Maybe my mother was right about everything.

Charlotte was the princess here: white, rich, beautiful, and changed into a real woman, not by her fairy godmother, all on her own.

I should've known. The movies had tried to tell me ever since I was young: when you're Latina and disabled, you don't get your fairytale.

You're just the sad person that dies oh so tragically, so you can inspire the main character to make something great of their lives.

Otherwise, you weren't even in the movie.

I should've known.