What the fuck?
“Well, you two are looking rather cosy!” Ethan says, towelling his hair and dumping the wet towel on the floor.
Juniper and I both stare at the discarded towel. Then he huffs a laugh, picks it back up, and merrily trots back to the bathroom, returning once more with his now-empty hands raised. “Point taken.”
Juniper nods with me, and we chuckle. We’re so in sync.
Ethan plonks down opposite us on the blanket and retrieves theScrabblebox from the pile. “You ladies ready?” he asks smugly.
Juniper straightens then shifts over so we’re in a triangle, facing one another. “Sure are, teacher boy,” she says cheekily.
I narrow my gaze at him then throw Juniper a conspiratorial smile. “Bring. It. On.”
The first few goes play out without a hitch—though, naturally, Ethan gets all the longest, most complex words while Juniper and I fight to fit our shorter, simpler attempts into the best spots for maximum points.
“That so doesn’t count!” Juniper, ashen faced, plucks Ethan’s letters from the board. “Color is c-o-l-o-r not c-o-l-o-u-r!” she dictates. “You’re in America right now my friend”—she crosses her arms over her chest—“So, American rules.”
I roll my eyes. “You can use the English ‘U’ if you want to,” I tell her, and she glares at me, playful yet menacing.
“No freaking way!” Her voice pitches an octave higher, and I fight the urge to laugh.
“Fine.” Ethan yields, and Juniper hands him back his useless U. He pins the R in its place, just shy of the “triple bonus,” then pouts. “You guys are mean.”
“Hey, it’s not my rules,” I defend.
“Urgh!” Juniper looks at me, shocked. “Whose side are you on?”
I laugh, raising my hands. “I am so not choosing between you!”
Ethan chuckles. “Famous last words.”
He trounces us both, of course—American rules notwithstanding—and we move on to the next game, and the next.
As the sunlight fades into dusk, we bathe in the orange glow of the assorted lamps dotted around the room.
“We need more lamps,” I tell Ethan dreamily.
“Yes, darling. I will buy you all of the lamps just as soon as we get home,” he replies.
I nod, but despite all this warmth and wonder, a splinter of cold penetrates my thoughts. I don’t want to go home yet. And I don’t want to say goodbye to Juniper.
I heave a sigh, and, as if reading my thoughts, Juniper looks over to me with a sympathetic smile.
Then she jumps up. “Ooh! I know what we need!”
“More lamps?” I ask, chuckling to myself.
“No.” She chuckles too. “Something even better.” She bounds out of the room, and Ethan and I exchange raised eyebrows.
“You see, Willow”—Juniper utters her sister’s name with about as much distaste as I reserve for my own exasperating sibling—“suggested I get ‘the guests’”—she cocks an eyebrow at us, as if we’re so much more than that now—“a bottle of fancy wine to go with the um … fancy charcuterie whatjamacallits …” She shrugs, both hands inconspicuously held behind her back. “But, me being me, and um … well, to be honest, these were a steal …”
Juniper pulls out two full bottles of wine, one red and one white. “I figured go big or go home. I got the less fancy stuff …” She shrugs. “But more of it.”
“Well, that’s one for me and you, but what will Mia drink?” Ethan jokes, but—
“Good point!” Juniper cackles, thrusting the bottles into Ethan’s hands before disappearing back down the corridor.
“Ethan!” I scold.
