Was I really going to kiss her in the school hallway?
“James.”
I caressed her jaw with my mouth, causing her to let out a little moan of pleasure that became uncontainable when I brushed the skin behind her ear. That point seemed particularly sensitive because she stopped talking and provoking me. Now she was incapable of making a sound. She’d finally given in. She’d fallen into my trap.
“You’re coming tonight.”
The tips of her lips barely trembled while I said those words, an inch away from her inviting bikini.
“I wanna see you in a fucking bikini, Snow White.”
41
June
I was upset, and not even reading a book would help distract me from the events of the last few days. At school that morning, I had thought James would mess with me for what we’d said to each other last night, but he didn’t even hint at the fact that we’d fallen asleep together. Did he do things without thinking or did he already regret it?
Like I regretted the afternoon of the exhibition. I was embarrassed for having behaved that way again.
I wanted to take that version of me that took over when I was with Will and James out of my head. But it wasn’t easy, especially because my mom did nothing but remind me of how she was still angry at me. She didn’t allow me to leave the house unless it was to go to school.
“Let me get this straight, you’re keeping watch over me starting as of today?” We were at the table when I decided to confront her.
“If you care about your precious phone that much, I want to see you study in the kitchen. In front of me.”
There she was. Psycho April, blackmailer extraordinaire.
She wasn’t happy about the night I’d spent outside the house, so she was forcing me to barricade myself inside. I tried to see the bright side of it: I only did damage when I went out; maybe being good would help me not do dumb stuff. But that wasn’t enough for my mom. She wanted me to go with her when she taught her stupid painting classes. Then again, what better punishment was there than going to her boring lessons?
“Put something on. We’re going,” she urged, pointing at my pajamas. I was tired, collapsed in front of the plate and ready to go to my room to go to bed. I didn’t expect her to start torturing me.
“It’s almost eight, why are you doing this to me, Mom?”
“Because I said so.”
“So you only work at night?”
“Your school doesn’t pay for itself. Besides, young lady, I’m not leaving you at home alone!”
“And what could I do? Other than set your paintings on fire . . .”
“June! Finish eating and let’s go.”
“I would if there was food on the table instead of this bland salad and grilled chicken. Are we in a military barracks?”
“We’re eating healthy starting today. I got a gym membership.”
“Jordan Hunter got in your head!” I bit the last remains of the bitter, bland salad. “Listen, staying in shape and wearing makeup like that won’t prevent twenty-something assistants from drooling all over him.”
She pierced me with a cutting look.
“What the hell do you, June seventeen-year-old White know about it?” she yelled fervently.
“I’m almost eighteen. And I see it very clearly, dear April—I won’t remind you of your age—Lebowski.”
“Tell me, what would you have seen?”
“I saw there were plenty of girls surrounding him at the exhibition,” I shot back quickly.
