Already crouched down by the window, garbage bag open, she picks through the destruction on the floor with careful fingers. Her long platinum hair is pulled over one shoulder, and she’s got her bottom lip pulled between her teeth.
I guess on the plus side, at least she’s not crying.
Honestly, I expected more tears considering the girl’s apartment looks like a tornado ripped through it. Her stuff—and there’s a lot of it—is everywhere. Most women would be bawling their eyes out right now.
Not June Calloway. She’s cleaning it up, like she’s mastered the art of‘just keep swimming’.
I drag a hand over my jaw and look around. It looks like a rainbow shit all over the damn room. There’s pinks and purples, and every other color you can imagine on the rugs, the baseboards; it’s literally everywhere.
“What did you need all that shit for?” I grab an empty garbage bag off the floor and crouch down on the other side of the window.
She glances over at me. “What do you mean?”
“The makeup.” I wave my hand at all the broken shit on the floor. “Why so much of it?” She’s a beautiful girl, she doesn’t need all this shit. She doesn’t need any of it, in fact. I’ve seen her fresh faced, and the girl is flawless.
She shrugs. “It’s my job.”
My brows pull together. “You sell this shit or something?”
She tilts her head to the side like she’s thinking. “I mean, in a sense. I’m a beauty influencer on Tokker. I review new products and create content that people want to see.”
I snort. “That ain’t no job, honey.”
“Yes it is.” Her eyes narrow, and her voice starts to get louder. “I work really freaking hard, thank you very much. I spend hours and hours creating content, editing videos, promoting brands that I believe in. People go to school to learn how to do what I do.” By the time she’s finished taking me to task, her cheeks are flushed and her breathing is ragged. I have to admit, I kinda like seeing her all riled up. It’s cute.
“All right, babe. Simmer.” I grin.
Working in silence, I pick up broken glass and chunks of foam from the shredded sofa.
There really isn’t much that’s not in some form of disrepair.
She sighs heavily and I look up. In her hand is a tube of lipstick. The cap is gone and the bullet is crushed, but I can see what’s left of the dark pink color inside.
“Rest in peace, Pink Passion.” She turns it over in her fingers, her voice going solemn like she’s speaking to a friend gone from this world too soon. “You were too good for this world.”
I blink. She can’t be for real.
With so much love and care, she sets it in the garbage bag like she’s placing it in a coffin, folds the edge of the bag down, and gives it a little pat.
What. The. Fuck.
I watch with rapt attention as she holds up another one that’s been completely snapped in half, the two pieces barely hanging together.
“And you.” She shakes her head slowly. “Rocket Fire Red. We had plans, baby. A summer concert. The Fourth of July. You deserved better than this.”
My head goes back and I bark out a laugh. This fucking girl. Holding my hand to my gut, I keep on laughing. “You’re something else, princess,” I manage.
June’s head swings around, her eyes big like she’d completely forgotten I was here.
A wide smile breaks across her face and a faint blush tints her cheeks.
The sight of her, right now, in this moment, breaks something open in my chest. Magnificent. “You’re beautiful.”
“I…” She bites her lip. “Thanks.”
What the fuck? “You’re beautiful?”
I clear my throat and look back at the floor.
