Because You're Different ✔

31. Red

June

She was beautiful. Again. Why did she always have to be this beautiful? Did she ever just lie back on the couch in her sweatpants, wearing yesterday's panties and a big hoodie that contained either a tomato sauce stain or a chocolate smudge? Probably not.

She'd noticed me staring at her and smiled, dimples in her cheeks. "You like my dress?"

I did like her dress. Red, reaching to her ankles, nice ass, plunging V-line — she looked sexy, something I wasn't used to from her. Usually, her outfits were modest and a bit bland, but this... No longer did she seem professional, poised. No, she looked like walking sex waiting to happen. Even Nathan, who usually tried to not dump his feelings for Charlotte on Sam and me, had been staring at her like he'd never seen a tastier piece of... of... What kind of food would Charlotte be? Apples? Nah, too common. More like macaroons. Expensive, elegant, alluring, sweet, and absolutely not worth the price.

"Very much," I said truthfully. "You look... drop-dead gorgeous."

She bit her lip. Supposedly, she was blushing, but I had no way to know for sure due to her make-up. Once again, she'd succeeded in making me feel incompetent. Sure, I was pretty, wearing one of the little black dresses she and I had bought together earlier this year. Still, while Charlotte wore dangerously high heels, something Nathan had seemed to love, I was wearing my ever-practical black Vans. And my face was as bare as ever — I couldn't apply make-up, not with my coordination. I'd never wanted to anyways, always said I didn't need it. She'd put up her hair in a complicated knot; mine was merely combed and loose. Not to mention the earrings that dangled every time she moved her head, and the necklace resting on the skin of her chest.

Everything about her was immaculate; she didn't have to pull up her bra straps every few minutes because the elastic had stretched, no, she wasn't wearing one at all, and if she did, she never had the problem of not daring to ask her mom if she could adjust the straps for her.

"Thank you," she said, "you look very pretty as well."

I didn't say anything, just watched while she checked her hair in the hall mirror. What would it be like to be Charlotte Rutherford? To have everything you could possibly want? An amazing boyfriend, money, a body like that, friends, a great college education? What was there left to do for a girl like her? Start your own company? Marry, have kids? God no — I didn't want to think about it, and I was quite sure she didn't either. She'd only turned twenty recently, after all.

"I can't believe we'll have known each other for a year in only a few months," she said, sending me a glittering smile, and I wondered if she really liked me or that it was only Nathan she meant. "Time really does fly by, doesn't it?"

Yeah. It did. Not fast enough, because I wasn't old enough to go with them. It was New Year's Eve, and they were going to a party of a mutual friend, another rich guy with three houses at his disposal. I couldn't envision Charlotte at a party. What would she be doing? Stand stiffly to the side and laugh awkwardly at jokes? Nah. In all likelihood, everyone was enchanted by her, and they'd all want to talk to her.

"Look," I said, "I know I don't need to say this... It's just... Take good care of Nathan, alright? Let him get drunk if that's what's necessary to get him through it."

She felt her earrings, maybe to see if they were in right, smiling a little dazedly. "You're adorable sometimes," she said. "Yes, Nathan can be awkward, but I assure you, he's able to sit through a party without needing to be plastered."

For a second, I was annoyed with her answer. Did she think I wasn't important enough to know about Lena? That his 'little sister' didn't need to be told about his painful history?

Then, I realized the truth.

She had absolutely no idea what I meant.

He had never told her this was the night Lena took her own life.

Maybe he'd never even told her Lena took her own life in the first place.

Maybe he'd never even told her about Lena.

No, that couldn't be, could it?

When Nathan joined us in the hallway, talking to her, so relaxed, smelling really nice, like aftershave and body soap, I couldn't hear what they were saying. I could only inspect him, the genuine smile, his carefree attitude — what a difference with last year. Charlotte really had been good for him. More than I ever expected.

For once, I was grateful, instead of unreasonably jealous. That she was such a nice person, always there for him, reliable, stable, someone who pushed him to go to parties, to go out with him. Someone he loved who loved him back and didn't hesitate to show it.

Then, he kissed her on her lips, only quickly, but his hands lingered on her waist, and my stomach churned.

Yeah, she was good for him. Didn't mean I had to like it, though.

He turned to me, ocean blue eyes smiling. "You look really beautiful, June," he said, pulling me in for a hug. I hold onto him tight, maybe a little longer than necessary, taking in his marvelous scent, again remembering that Christmas night when I'd been the only girl, even if it was just for a little while.

"You look very handsome yourself," I said, letting go, and I wondered if he realized how much I meant that. "Charlotte's a lucky girl." She beamed at me, and I hated myself for always trying to be the bigger person. Damn you, dad. You had too much of an influence on me.

"This lucky girl is going to start the car. You coming, darling?"

Darling. And to think I used to find it such a romantic word.

"Call me if you need anything, alright?" Nathan said, already turning around. Hastily, I grabbed his arm, making him stop.

"Same goes for you, okay?" His gaze softened, and he nodded, a calm smile on his face. "You gonna be okay?"

He didn't say anything, just returned to where I was standing, my body tense with worry — I didn't know what he was planning, and for a second, my mind fantasized some wild scenario, until I received a kiss on my cheek — again — second time in one week — second time in one week I didn't know what to do or where to look, just doing my utmost best not to move, because if I did, my motions would probably be very jumpy. My heart stopped working — was this what it was like to have a heart attack?

"I'm gonna be okay," he said. "I'll call you and Sam at midnight. Say Happy New Year to your dad for me." And he walked away, away from me, long sure strides, and my body started working again. This time, it was he who turned back. "You wanna go visit her mural with me tomorrow if I'm not too hungover? There'll probably not be any teachers on New Year's Day, so I think we'll be in the clear."

I smiled, and a surge of love for him came over me, warming me up all over. "Of course."

With that, he really went, leaving me with the strange feeling that he was breaking tradition by not being here with us, while in fact, we'd only ever celebrated New Year's together once before.