June, Reimagined (37)
June held a hand up. “Don’t even think about collecting this for one of your stories.”
“I’m just brainstorming my next Scottish historical erotic novel.”
“No, you’re scheming.”
“I’m using my imagination. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“She ‘waxes desperate with imagination,’” David added.
Eva took a few notes. June tried to see what she had written, but Eva blocked her view.
“No fair,” June said. “If you’re going to write about me, I should know the plot.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you shag the living daylights out of him . . . a few times.”
“Eva!” June whispered. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not? You’re an adult. Lennox is an adult. It’s not like it’s your first time . . . it’s not, right?”
“No,” June said.
“Are you physically incapacitated?” David asked.
“Struggling with an STD?” Eva chimed in.
“Gay?” David was intrigued.
“No,” June said, exasperated.
“Then what is it?” Eva queried.
June glanced at Lennox and had to physically restrain herself from staring. “I just know it’s not going to happen. He’s not interested.”
“You don’t know that,” Eva said. “You just think that’s true.”
David nodded. “It’s a classic rom-com scenario. Guy meets girl. Guy and girl hate each other. Then guy secretly falls for girl. Girl falls for guy. Throw in a makeover or a bet gone wrong, a steamy snog in the rain, a Norah Jones song, and you’ve got yourself a blockbuster.”
June wished things with Lennox were that prescribed. After four nights on his couch, she wasn’t sure about anything anymore. They were either hot or cold, fighting or laughing, and at times it seemed that Lennox avoided June altogether. She felt like she was in a game of Chutes and Ladders—the instant they moved closer together, she’d slide all the way back to the bottom of the game board. Lennox refused to talk about his past or his parents, and as for the mysterious Isobel, June was no closer to finding out who she was. Their relationship had been so much easier when she simply hated his guts.
“You even had a good meet-cute,” David said.
“What’s a meet-cute?” June asked.
“It’s an utterly charming first encounter of two potential lovers in a movie.”
“I almost died from eating a peanut. There’s nothing cute about that.”
“It’s adorable,” Eva said. “I couldn’t have written it better myself.”
June was even more exasperated. “Fine. Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say that, hypothetically, I’m living in a rom-com. What happens next? Hypothetically, of course. From your artist’s perspective.”
Eva and David glanced at each other and said, simultaneously, “A sex scene.”
June’s face heated up.
Eva added, “And then I’d probably make it blow up in your face. Come up with a plot twist you weren’t expecting.”
“Oh, I like that,” David said.
June was aghast. “Like what?”
“Depends. Something you and the reader have forgotten about,” Eva said. “But I promise the shagging scene would be really juicy. Totally worth what comes after. I highly recommend doing it.”
June threw her hands up. “You just told me that if I do, everything will blow up.”
“Happily ever after only comes at the end,” David said.
“But the sex scenes . . .” Eva smiled. “Those come at the most unexpected times.”
“How can I have sex, knowing there’s a plot twist coming?”
Eva grabbed June by the shoulders. “Life is full of plot twists you can’t control, June. Which is all the more reason to shag like mad when the opportunity presents itself.”
June had had enough of plot twists. There would be no more discussion of sleeping with Lennox. No more prying into his life. No more deep stares and electric touches. No more complications. It was best for June just to leave it all alone.
“We better crack on,” Eva said, returning her notebook to her purse. “I told Amelia we’d meet her at the hall by now.”
June, David, and Eva were scheduled to serve drinks and food at one of the local after-parties. June examined the schedule of events Lennox had written out for her just yesterday. “Can I meet you? There’s music down by the water in an hour, and I want to take pictures.”
“Ah, the plot thickens.” Eva wiggled her eyebrows.
“Meaning?”
David explained. “Happily ever after never happens when people do what they’re supposed to do, love. It’s when they deviate that the plot really gets interesting.”
People filled the waterfront in droves for the music. Squad members dressed as Smurfs and Oompa Loompas, small children on their parents’ shoulders, different languages threading through the crowd. It was as if, in one day, sleepy Knockmoral had become an international hot spot, more alive than anything June had ever seen, including football Saturdays at Ohio State.
June completed a roll of film and stopped to change it out for another. She was in the zone, not just observing, but seeing the day in images. A group of Smurfs congregated in front of the band. June moved around the scene to get the perfect shot of men, kilts, bagpipes, and three-apple-high cartoon costumes. It was equally ridiculous and beautiful, which she was learning was the Scottish way—life was never to be taken too seriously. As she angled the lens to catch the streams of sunlight breaking through the few clouds that had gathered, she felt something sharp in her back.