Because You're Different ✔

12. If

Nathan

When I arrived home, they were playing "Spin the bottle". I didn't know kids these days even did that anymore. I think Lena might've suggested it once when we were seventeen, but she'd said we didn't need the bottle part and had just started kissing me, out of nowhere, like she'd done many times before. I never knew why she did that, or what she meant by it. Then again, I'd never asked. I probably wouldn't have liked the answer. Friends, we were, and yes, sometimes we kissed or slept together, but she never wanted to put a label on anything.

Suddenly, I began to worry. What if Sam and June...? They were way too young, and they'd definitely screw up their friendship in the process. My eyes raced over all those excited young faces, to find Sam looking up in awe to this brunette girl who was making a show of kissing another girl. Oh, man... I should've never allowed him to have a mixed sleepover... What was I thinking? That he'd invite maybe one or two other shy kids and they'd watch a movie — definitely not this. At least, Sam seemed like he was enjoying it.

Okay, I definitely didn't want to be here anymore, and I definitely didn't want to know what my little brother was thinking right now.

Where was June though? She was nowhere to be seen.

Oh, fuck.

I didn't want it to be the first thing coming to mind, but it was. I left the teenagers where they were, deciding it wasn't my problem, and went to look for her.

I found her sitting with her back to my bedroom door, arms around her knees. She was staring into the distance, dried tear tracks on her cheeks, lips shaking. She heard me and startled — for a second, she moved to wipe away her tears; when she saw it was me, she didn't bother. "Oh, hi," she said, voice quavering. "You're back."

I sighed, running my hands through my hair. I didn't like seeing her like this, defeated, finally brought down, when she was usually so strong and confident. Gingerly, I sat down beside her. She was all warm from crying; I could feel it even though we weren't touching.

"How's Sam?" she asked.

"Well, he's certainly enjoying himself."

She laughed a little. "Good."

"You're not enjoying yourself, though."

She avoided my gaze. Her left hand was clenched into a fist, and the other was clutching her leg with such force I wouldn't be surprised if it hurt. "No, I'm not. They didn't... they didn't want me to play." She breathed in deeply, almost desperately, and her fingers clawed in her leg with more force. "Not that I wanted to play, or anything. I mean, it's a crappy game anyway. But it's the underlying meaning, you know? It hurt."

I didn't know what to say. I wanted to tell her something consoling, something meaningful. Only, I had never been that great at stuff like that. "Of course it hurts," I said. "But it's just a couple of young kids anyway, June. It's not always gonna be like that."

She let out a shaky breath, then turned her eyes towards me, big, brown, and currently teary. "Would you kiss me?"

I stared at her, a rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins, urging me to run — did she just...? No, she couldn't mean... could she?

"I mean, not 'kiss me now'," she added quickly, almost tripping over the words. "More hypothetical. Like, would you kiss me if I was older and not Sam's friend? Not necessarily as you, just as a guy."

Oh, thank god. That made more sense. The flight response disappeared as fast as it had emerged, and I relaxed, inspecting her blotchy face, the little drops stuck in her long lashes, her lips, swollen from crying. The long, curly hair cascading down her back, her figure, a bit wider at the hips, small at the waist. And well, she had breasts alright, and just this once, I should take them into consideration. Let's not forget her smile, either. It wasn't anywhere to be seen at the moment, but I could picture it with ease. "Yeah," I said, "yeah, if you were older, and you wouldn't have been Sam's friend, and I would have met you then... Yeah, you'd be a girl I'd want to kiss."