Because You're Different ✔

50. Talk

Thank god. I didn't know why those words affected me this much; at that moment, they were all I wanted to hear. They made me aware of my blood rushing through my veins, my palms suddenly sweaty, and I was afraid I was going to drop the phone and not catch the next thing she was going to say. I gripped it tighter, mustering up the courage to speak, because somehow, I wasn't really sure if I'd be able to. "I miss you too, Junie," I said, luckily in a completely normal tone. "You aren't letting anyone else open doors for you right now, are you? I wouldn't be able to live with that."

What a foolish thing to say. She didn't seem to mind, though: "Don't worry. No one here's as polite as you."

I chuckled. "You should come and visit. People are so polite here, you'll feel right at home." She didn't respond, and I ran my hand through my hair again. Please, don't hang up on me, please don't... "How's Sam?"

A huff. "He's... being a sixteen-year-old boy."

"It passes, I promise." I wished she'd FaceTimed me, so I could've seen her smile, see the little lights dancing in her eyes. At least, if she'd found my answer amusing. Maybe she didn't. Nah. This was June. Of course she did.

"It better. He's completely head over heels for Hayley, and I think he doesn't even realize it himself."

Hayley. Well, that was a smarter choice than Jennifer. See, Charlotte? June and Sam were only friends, and that was what they'd remain. No offense to my little brother, but she was too good for him. "Seems like it runs in the family, huh?"

Another silence. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean... Lena..."

"Oh yeah, of course. Seems like you got over it, though."

"Yeah, seems like it." I was losing her again; I could feel it, like the phone sliding from my sweaty hands was her running away from me. The only option I could think of was applying the known Guevara-tactic: "June, what happened at that party?"

"Nothing. I just drank too much, and Sam and Hayley were bickering the whole damn time. It was exhausting."

I could've just as well dropped my phone. She was lying to me. I didn't need to see her face to be sure. My throat went dry; I swallowed, but it didn't help. When I left, I thought it'd be easy to keep in contact with her, easy to remain us. It was only for a year, after all, and we'd see each other during the holidays. That was barely enough time to rip our friendship apart, right?

Seemed like I'd been wrong. She didn't feel the need to share stuff with me anymore — she could've found someone else, someone who hadn't left her to move across the ocean. She could've changed, no matter how impossible that seemed. Without me there. She could not want to let me get to know whoever she was right now, because what was the point, with me so far away?

Only there was a point. A very important point. And that was that I always wanted to know her, wherever or whoever we both were.

I was trying to formulate a sentence that'd get the message across, when she asked: "How are you, though? Freezing to death?"

Moment passed. "I don't have time to freeze to death. I barely have time to eat. I mean, I'm working on Saturdays. How bad can it get? This morning, I was wondering for five minutes why my pants wouldn't fit when I realized I was putting them on backward."

There was her laugh, only shortly, but it made me release a breath I hadn't been aware of holding. God, I missed that sound... "You aren't living on take-out, are you?"

"Well, I try to cook every now and then... It's just a lot harder when you're not there. You're still going to marry me when you turn eighteen, right?"

"I'm hoping for you that Charlotte didn't hear that. You know what she said. I wasn't going to go anywhere with her man." And it seemed like I'd made the wrong joke again: she was struggling to keep her voice steady, and there was a bitterness to it I'd never heard in her before. What the hell happened to her?

There was a knock on my door. Anne, with a stack of papers in her hands. No! Not right now! I gestured for her to go away, but she ignored me: "Meeting in five, Mr. Redstone," she said, loud enough for June to hear.

"Well, seems like you're busy... And I should be heading to bed anyway."

No, no, no, fucking Anne and her timing... "I still got five minutes."

"I'm sure you need to prepare. And I'm just exhausted."

Strange, how she could make my day and tear it apart in the span of one conversation. "Yeah, okay... Talk again soon?"

"Sure. Bye, Nathan."

I didn't even get the chance to say something back; she'd hung up on me, again, and she could've just as well thrown a brick in my face.

Sure, she'd said. That was far away from the "you have to promise me to call me tomorrow night" I'd gotten in the beginning.

I didn't know what this was, or why it was happening, but it had to end quickly.

How many months till Christmas again?

Shit. Still two to go.