I had three goals for that evening. Talk with Will. Ignore James. Not drink.
I’d also written that in the Notes app on my phone, like such banal things needed mental preparation.
“I’ll come, but promise me we’re not gonna drink,” I told Will on the phone.
He promised me, so I took a shower and put on my best pair of jeans under a white long-sleeved sweater.
Loose hair, no makeup, and now I was at Poppy’s house.
She seemed particularly happy to see me, and all my doubts disappeared in a second.
After exchanging a warm hug, she surprised me with an unusual request.
“June, I’m gonna finish getting ready. Can you give Amelia a hand in the kitchen?”
“Well, maybe you don’t know, but—”
“I know. And that’s exactly why I want you guys to make peace, please, do it for me,” she implored.
Poppy seemed sincere. And who was I to ruin her birthday?
“Okay.” I sighed, unaware of what awaited me.
I went into the kitchen with all good intentions. But when my eyes met Amelia’s cold gaze, my smile vanished.
“Will you help me with the frosting?” She pointed at a row of incomplete cupcakes.
“Sure.” I nodded, washing my hands in the sink.
Amelia handed me a dishcloth then showed me how much sugar and butter to mix. We were silent, concentrating on finishing the job with the mixer, until I heard her scream.
“Get any closer, and I’ll cut your claws off!”
Her angry tone led me to turn to her.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw James’s tall silhouette crash into the wall, preventing her from leaving.
She tensed up, just like my back. Why did he do this with all the girls? My god, I hated him so much.
“I’m hungry.”
“Should I care?” she spat, looking him in the eyes.
“Let me try one.”
“No.”
“Just one.”
“I said no! Get the fuck out, Hunter,” she yelled as she left the kitchen, irritated. “June, I trust you,”
Amelia had spoken to me in a civil tone twice, an absolute record.
In a fraction of a second James’s blue eyes darted to me, but I’d promised myself I’d ignore him. Even though that was easier said than done. I’d noticed he was showing more skin than he should have in his tank top.
I went back to my cupcakes. I didn’t want to talk to him. But all it took was one look too many to make him come up to me. I remembered the ambiguous words he’d told me in the bathroom.
A game.
