I was wrong.
It was not a fluke.
I also lied. Cece never stopped to look at us, never even hesitated as she walked away.
I just wanted to kiss her, to try and prove to myself that it was just that one time, that kissing June wasn’t as explosive as my mind kept telling me.
Unfortunately, instead of sating that need, it just made my need for her a million times worse.
I convinced myself that all the moments of making her life easier, of making her small wishes and hopes for luck come true, were just because that’s what friends do for each other. But after that kiss, I was forced to come to terms with the fact that I don’t want to be just friends with her.
I want to be a whole fucking lot more with June Taylor.
Thankfully, before I can do something that I can’t take back, the singing starts. June beams up at me, squealing before turning around and singing loudly.
And just like the last time we were together when this song played, I hold her close through the entire thing.
Eventually, the set ends, the crowd disperses, and I step away from June. As I do, my entire body feels cold. We move through the crowd, and at some point, June grabs my hand, twining her fingers through mine silently, not wanting to get separated, but even when we’re off the beach and headed to our hotel, neither of us lets go.
It takes us about twenty minutes to walk the half mile to the hotel, and with the wild traffic on the street, I know I was right in insisting we stay the night in town. Relief moves through me as we walk into the lobby of the hotel. I’m eager to go to my hotel room, get some distance between us, and then try to wrap my mind around why I’m being so ridiculous and irrational right now.
I just need space.
That’s what I keep telling myself.
Space will make this incessant need to kiss my assistant fade.
But when she stops before we can even make it to the front desk, grabbing my wrist with a wide, excited smile I’ve come to recognize well, I know I’m screwed.
“Make a wish!” she says, lifting her phone and closing her eyes even though we’re stopped in the center of the lobby, people having to step around us.
“What?” She opens one eye as I watch her, confused, and she glares at me.
“Make a wish! It’s 11:11!” Her eyes move to her phone again, the time displayed prominently on her screen. She closes her eyes once more.
“June, we have?—”
I start to argue, but she opens both eyes this time, giving me one of her signature exaggerated sighs.
“My god, can’t you ever just do one thing without making a whole stink about it? Close your eyes and make a damn wish.”
She glares at me, and I bite back a smile. Instead, I give a sigh of my own, then, despite feeling stupid, I close my eyes and take in a deep breath.
I could fake it.
It would be easy. June is so superstitious, she would never ask what my wish was, but it would feel like a betrayal. That’s why I find myself sifting through my thoughts until I land on one that shines bright. Before I can even stop, I mentally latch onto it.
I wish I could have June Taylor.
It’s a wild thought, unruly and panic-inducing, but also, the second I think it, it feels right. I don’t know if it’s June’s own superstitious ways or the endorphins from the night, or what, but I take in a deep breath and send the thought into the universe.
Because it’s true.
I wish I could have June Taylor all to myself.
After, I open my eyes to see she’s looking up at me, a soft, peaceful smile on her lips.
“Done,” I say, and my voice sounds gruff to my own ears.
