I burst out laughing, and Lexie’s mouth quirks up in a crooked grin. Yup. Yup, her reaction was as good as I assumed it would be.
“Oh, whatever,” June grumbles. “I’m trying to be supportive here!”
“And you’re doing a great job,” Lexie teases. “Very supportive.”
Trying again, June shifts against the couch cushions and grabs a decorative pillow—because, apparently, those are a thing, too—then hugs it to her chest. “So, where do you work?”
“The Body Shop,” Lexie answers. “It’s a gentlemen’s club?—”
My snort cuts her off. “Sorry, but I’d hardly call a strip club agentleman's,"I emphasize, “club. Pretty sure the only prerequisite to walking through those doors is tonotbe a gentleman, but what do I know?”
“Says the girl who’s totally crushing on Jag Off, AKA the teacher of ‘how to be an asshole’ one oh one?” Lexie quips.
I give her a mock glare as she reaches for her purse, unperturbed in the slightest. I still haven’t told her about my little sleepover at Harden Estate. I haven’t toldanyoneabout my little sleepover at Harden Estate. If I did, she’d probably have a heart attack. Even so, the girl knows me well enough to see whatever hate I’d been harboring for Jagger Harden has slowly softened into something else, even if we haven’t really seen each other since the day he made me come in an empty classroom. Add in the little tidbit about him pulling a few strings behind the scenes to get me the apartment in the first place, along with his strange vow about wanting to keep me, and, well, it’s been a bit of a mindfuck.
“Yikes,” June mutters. “So tell me, Lex. How’d you get started there?”
“Family friend,” Lexie answers vaguely. “They mentioned opening a new club on the south side of The Drift and asked ifI wanted to help out or whatever, and I figured, why not? You know?”
“Really?” June looks even more fascinated than when we were describing our favorite after-school snacks. “So, you didn’t have any dancing experience or anything?”
“Lexie’s a ballerina,” I answer for my best friend. “She’s been dancing since she could walk.”
It’s true, too. I might not have known her personally back then, but I found a couple old family home videos once, and the footage was the cutest thing I’d ever seen. A toddler Lexie with her hair pulled into a high bun, wearing a leotard and tights with holes in the knees. Round and round she twirled.
“So, why go the exotic route?” June asks. I’m pretty sure if she was anyone else, Lexie would smack them, but June looks so genuine and curious, my best friend can’t help but cave to her innocent prodding.
“From The Drift, remember?” she returns. “When you’re not raised with money, you follow it wherever it goes, hoping to steal a small piece of the pie. Which reminds me.” Lexie reaches for the door handle. “Ready for your mind to really be blown, June?”
June nods.
Lexie drops her voice low. “I’ve never had pumpkin pie.”
June’s eyes pop. Speechless. The girl is freaking speechless.
“And now, my job is done.” Lexie bows as if receiving a standing ovation for her cleverness. “See you later, ladies!” And she closes the door behind her.
Count on Lexie to throw a bomb on a conversation before swaying her curvy little hips right out the door. The woman’s never had a filter and thrives on knocking people off-guard, which she just succeeded in doing like a champ.
Resting back into the couch, June tucks her feet under her butt and scratches the side of her head. The soft curls from her messy bun frame her face and make her look effortlesslygorgeous as she stares at the closed front door my best friend disappeared through. Yup. Like I said, Lexie nailed it. June’s speechless.
“So?” I ask, breaking the silence.
She tears her focus from the front door, giving me a front row seat to her dazed expression. “She seems…nice?”
“Is that a question?” I ask with a laugh.
“No?” She joins in my amusement and covers her eyes. “I don’t know, she’s so…different than anyone I’ve ever met. You both are,” she adds, though the kind smile spreading across her round face softens the blow. “How did you two meet?”
“We ran into each other a few years ago,” I answer. “She was new in town. Moved in a few places down from me, and kneed a homeless guy who tried to steal her phone. I came outside to see what was going on, and we’ve been friends ever since.”
June’s eyes practically bug out of her head. “Seriously?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“That’s insane.” June hesitates, lost to her thoughts. “The girl has more tenacity in her pinkie toe than I do in my whole body.”
I don’t want to confirm her assumption. We don’t know each other well enough yet. Besides, sometimes I think we see ourselves differently than others do. Add in the stark contrast between their upbringings, and it’s almost impossible to compare them, let alone let someone as soft and sweet as June beat herself up over it.
