june and the blond boy

Standoffish

ᴊᴜɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴏɴᴅ ʙᴏʏ

I hadn't seen James since that evening at the party three nights ago. I sort of expected him to spontaneously climb through my window after midnight, but he never did.

As the tow truck pulled up to our house, I was sure James would be out there, considering it was his friend who was towing my car.

He wasn't there. I watched through the front window as my uncle walked down to the sidewalk to meet the tow truck driver, shake his hand, pay him, and return back to the house.

Taylor must've noticed my shoulders slump as he walked in, taking a seat on the couch in front of the window where I sat. "He'll come around, kid. You two can never stay away from each other for a full week, no matter how hard you try."

He was right. Any time I'd glance out my bedroom window at his house next door, I'd itch to just go over there and mend things with him.

But I also felt that he should be the one to come here and speak to me, especially after what he said.

"Don't come crying to me..."

The sun slowly set as I was moving all around my house, taking a shower and changing into pajamas, then I moved to my bedroom to straighten up, then finally cleaning up the kitchen just as it got dark out, and my uncle and aunt were busy watching a cheesy romance film in the living room.

I tried to keep myself busy for as long as I could until Taylor and Tracy went to bed, and the house was silent. After loading the dishwasher, I trudged back up the stairs and flopped onto my bed.

Minutes passed by as I stared at my ceiling, waiting for the three taps on my window.

They never came.

I groaned, sliding off my bed and padding down the stairs to get a glass of water. As I was reaching to grab a glass from the cupboard, a dark silhouette appeared right behind me.

I gasped, whirling around and inevitably, the glass slips from my hand.

Before it could hit the floor, James grabbed ahold of it.

James was in my house.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" I whispered sharply at him. He placed the cup on the counter, peering down at me.

"Your window was locked." he spoke quietly.

"So... you broke into my home?" I hissed, glaring up at him, although he probably couldn't see through the darkness of the kitchen.

"I just wanted to talk to you." he said, keeping his answers short.

I crossed my arms, leaning against the counter and looking away from him. "I don't wanna talk to you. Go home." I lied.

"Well too bad, okay?" he spoke a little firmer, but kept his volume down. "I don't want to fight with you. I haven't seen you in two months and immediately after you get home, you're all standoffish."

"I'm not standoffish." I rolled my eyes, moving to create some distance between us.

He widened his eyes, pointing at me. "See? That right there, standoffish. That thing you did."