June, Reimagined (47)

“Drove my ass all the way there. You owe me a kidney.”

June opened the box, squealing as she took out one of the chocolate chip cookies and popped a piece into her mouth. She fell back on the bed dramatically. “Oh. My. God. I think I’m having an orgasm.”

“And that’s not even the climax.”

“There’s more?” She was upright again, like a kid waiting for Santa, as Matt rummaged around in his bag. “Did you bring me a puppy, too?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You know I don’t do animals.”

“A car with a big red bow?” June clapped in anticipation. “Is Jared Leto in your bag?”

“Oh my God. Fucking Jared Leto. I forgot about your obsession with him.”

“It wasn’t an obsession, Matty. It was true love.”

“You made us drive all the way to Cleveland so we could wait in line at some shit-ass mall for eight hours, just to see his greasy hair and smell his patchouli BO in person for five seconds. You owe me both kidneys and a liver.”

“I was convinced if he just saw me, he’d fall in love with me.”

“You’ve always been ridiculous.”

“I prefer the word ‘spirited.’ People do crazy things when they’re in love.”

“Don’t I know it.”

An intense look came over Matt’s face, making June feel suddenly bashful. She wiped at her mouth. “What? Do I have chocolate on my face?”

“No.” He took her hand.

June’s stomach fell to her knees. The energy between them had shifted. “What is it then?”

“I just missed you . . . this . . . us. God, I feel better when I’m around you.”

June didn’t know what to say. The way Matt looked at her, like he was consuming every inch of June with his eyes, made her uncomfortable. Of course, it felt good to have him next to her. Matt was a pair of perfectly worn-in tennis shoes. A familiar bed at the end of a long day. Chicken noodle soup and ginger ale. Security and ease. And she had missed him. Every day. But she was also frustrated that he was here without her permission, that he felt ownership over June, so much so that he hadn’t told her he was coming. And now he was looking at her in a way she hadn’t consented to either.

They still held hands. “Matty . . .”

“Confession time,” he said. June tensed, fearing what he might say or, God forbid, do. “Remember when you found that stack of Sweet Valley High books in my room, and I said they were my cousin Sarah’s? They were mine.” He let go of June’s hand, the flash in his eyes gone, the space between them light and airy again. “I’ve always had a twin fantasy. Those books were as good as porn for me.”

June grabbed a pillow and smacked him in the head with it. He laughed, his dirty blond hair mussed from the impact.

June hugged the pillow to her chest. She was overreacting and overemoting and taking it out on Matt, who had showed up out of the kindness of his heart to see her, to be with her. Lennox didn’t give June that reverence, and she’d be damned if she took out her frustration on Matt.

“Are you going to give me my present or what?” she asked.

Matt produced a can of Skyline Original Chili, hot dogs, buns, shredded cheese, an onion, and mustard. “I was worried the hot dogs might go bad on the flight, but then I realized they have an expiration date of fucking never, so we’re probably safe.”

Matt had brought not only cookies from her favorite bakery but the complete ingredients for a Skyline Chili Coney dog, her all-time favorite food. The gesture was so thoughtful. So her. The cookies and Coneys and Jared Leto and Butt-Crack Jim—being with Matt was like being with an encyclopedia of her life. He was the ultimate reference on all things June Merriweather.

Almost all things . . .

She was being ridiculous and overly sensitive to think something had passed between them moments earlier, and it wasn’t fair to Matt. None of what June had done for the past few years was fair to Matt, and yet she saw no other way if she wanted to preserve their relationship. And she did, with all her heart.

June wiped a tear from her eye and grabbed Matt in a ferocious hug. He had flown across the Atlantic Ocean with groceries in his bag, all to make June happy.

“I missed you, Matty,” she whispered into his ear.

When they separated, Matt said, “I have one last thing.” He pulled a red sweatshirt from his bag and held it up. Across the front, in capital letters, it read SOMEBODY IN CINCINNATI LOVES ME. A large white heart sat below the words. “I saw it at the airport and thought it was fucking tacky as hell . . . perfect for you.”

June laughed and took the sweatshirt. “I love it.”

“Well, the words couldn’t be truer. There are a lot of people in Cincinnati who love you. Just in case you need reminding.” He ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

Inspiration struck June. “Don’t move. Leave your hand exactly where it is.” She grabbed her camera and quickly snapped a picture of Matt looking like a teen heartthrob. “Now all you need is a leather jacket and a chain wallet.”

“Don’t forget a Rage Against the Machine T-shirt.” Matt inspected the camera. “Where the hell did you get that?”

“Someone in town was giving it away and offered it to me.” She popped another piece of cookie into her mouth and put the camera away.