Page 66 of Meet Me at Midnight

“I’m not sure how, but I think that might be racist,” I manage to remark, trying out my normally brotherly role on my tongue. It feels foreign, especially knowing that I expected this meetup to go an entirely different direction, but evidently, it’s passable.

Avery shoves me in the shoulder like always, and I lift the corner of my mouth in a smile as I stumble back playfully. June grabs her by the elbow and pulls her toward the exit.

I plead for answers silently, hoping she’ll find a way to ditch Avery back in their condo and come find me. Hoping she’ll meetme on Midnight to put this all to rest. I need an explanation. I need answers, and truthfully, I’m not even sure I know all the questions.

The June I’ve known for most of my life and the June of our chats are two entirely different people, and now that the secret is out, I don’t know which one she’ll be going forward.How in the hell are we supposed to move forward?

“Shut up, weirdo.” For the first time tonight, Avery notices my attire and the bottle of water in my hand. “Who even works out at midnight? Don’t you have work in the morning?”

“I think, out of the two of us, you’re the one we should be asking that question. Where exactly are you on your way back from this late, and why are you in the gym? I thought you did your workouts during work hours as an exercise inmultitasking,” I mock.

“Late?” Avery’s laughter rings out in peals. “Oh my God, you’ve really gotten old, haven’t you? It’s just after midnight, for Pete’s sake. I was the first one to leave the club. If I didn’t feel like all the sushi I ate a Hosu House fucked up my stomach, I’d still be out. As soon as you said you felt sick, I started feeling sick too,” she says, turning to June. “And I left my AirPods down here earlier today and wanted them to help put me to sleep. Unlike my old-man brother, my body is liable to revolt at the early hour.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever. Just go get some sleep so you can actually be a productive member of the company tomorrow.”

“Productive?” She frowns. “That doesn’t sound fun at all.”

“Avery, go to bed.”

“Man, June, can you believe this loser? He sounds just like Dad.” She lowers her voice to what she thinks sounds like a serious man and mocks, “Business, business, business. Deals, deals, deals. Blippity, bloppity, bloop.”

June sucks her lips into her mouth, a blush stealing across her high cheeks, and I feel the unexpected visual of her doing that while she’s on her knees looking up at me. It’s surprising and unexpected and, honestly, a little bit unsettling.

This is June. Juniper. My little sister’s best friend.

And yet, not anymore. Because, as of tonight, she’s also my Mystery Woman.

Fuck.

Night after night, she’s turned me on in ways I’ve never experienced before. We’ve explored each other both mentally and physically, and for my part, I’ve had nothing but a hazy picture of a sexy woman.

I rake my eyes across her beautiful jaw, along her collarbone, and to the soft swell of her chest. Her skin is supple and smooth, covered in the same freckles I’ve seen for years, and the Cupid’s bow at the top of her lips is dotted with the shine of her lip gloss.

She is sexy. Almost unbearably so, if I really let myself look at her.

But this isn’t the June I know.

This isn’t therelationshipwith June I know. Not at all. And that’s befuddling as fuck.

“Beau is a kind, successful guy,” June comments, her voice soft and quiet. “If he sounds like your dad—which I’m not sure he does—that’s hardly a bad thing.”

“Pfft,” Avery hums on a laugh. “Yeah. Okay.”

“I’m serious,” June says, but this time, she’s not looking at Avery at all. She’s looking directly at me, her eyes deconstructing me piece by piece until they pierce a tiny hole in my soul. “You’re a good guy, Beau. The best. I’vealwaysthought so.”

The words punch well above their fighting weight, and I have to hold myself steady from stumbling again even with no shove involved.

Avery shakes her head, annoyed with the stupid conversation, but I know with pointed clarity that it’s not stupid at all. It’s a declaration. It’s a decision. It’s an admission.

June knew what she was doing pursuing me, and she did it on purpose.

But to what end?

Is this idea of us, this different view of what we could be, one she’s had for a while? And if that’s the case, why didn’t she say something sooner? Why did she choose to message me like this? And why does it have to feel so messy?

Avery loops her arm through June’s and pulls her out of the gym, chattering about her night out while June tries to listen. She looks back, just once, but there’s no changing the outcome of what’ll never be the same.

Juniper Perry isn’t who she used to be, and I don’t feel the way I used to about her. She’s not a kid, and the chatter on the other end of my Midnight messages isn’t a mystery.

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