Page 26 of Seven Days in June

“Fuck if I know,” she admitted. “It’s all good, though! We can sit in silence.”

“Knock yourself out.” He returned to his book.

So he wasn’t super welcoming. But at least now she knew someone at this big, intimidating school. At a loss for what to do now, she shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand and rubbed more oil into her temples.

Genevieve sensed the guy watching her. She was about to explain to him the tension-relieving benefits of lavender, when he pulled Ray-Bans out of his jeans pocket and handed them to her. She put them on, stunned by his generosity. Then he exhaled (with resignation?), shut the book, and leaned back against the brick wall, eyes closed.

Genevieve couldn’t help but stare. She’d never seen a face like his. Her stomach fluttered a bit, and she bit her lip.No.She couldn’t get a crush. She didn’t trust herself; she always went too far.

But looking at him wouldn’t hurt. She studied his dreamy, far-out expression, wondering what he was on.

“Morphine?” she asked. “Ketamine?”

He opened one eye. “You sure you’re not a dealer?”

“I have legal prescriptions. I’m basically an apothecary.” She paused. “‘Oh true apothecary. Thy drugs are quick.’”

“‘Thus with a kiss I die,’” he replied reflexively. “Keats?”

“Shakespeare!” exclaimed Genevieve. “Remember which play?”

“Romeo and Juliet,” he grumbled.

“You a writer? Or just an AP English ho?”

He shrugged.

“I write, too. You any good?”

Same shrug.

She smirked. “I’m better.”

And then he chuckled. And it was an unlikely, surprising thing, like being trampled by a unicorn stampede in Narnia. Jesus, he was a lot. She needed a distraction.

“I’m…hungry,” she blurted out awkwardly. “You want a peach? I have two.”

He shook his head. Genevieve unzipped her backpack, unearthing a peach and a delicate, razor-sharp pocketknife. Propping her elbows on her knees, she clicked open the blade and angled it along the seam of the peach. It was always so satisfying, feeling the tautness of the skin under the blade. The tension. With a gentle press, the skin burst and juice dribbled out. She caught it with her tongue. Then she cut off a piece, using her thumb as an anchor, and popped it into her mouth.

Chomping, Genevieve glanced at her new friend. He looked like he’d just seen his first natural rainbow.

“That’s how you eat peaches?”

“I like knives.”

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then rapidly shook his head, as if descrambling his brain.

“Nah, man,” he said. “You gotta go. I’m trying to stay out of trouble.”

“Trouble? But…”

“You’re dangerous. And I’m worse. I’d be hazardous to your health.”

“I’m already a health hazard.” Genevieve ripped off the sunglasses for emphasis. “We’re friends now! You said you don’t know how to talk to people, but you’re talking to me!”

“I said I can’t talk tonormalpeople.” He eyed her. “You’re not normal.”

She wasn’t sure, but it felt like a compliment. She felt understood. This was new. There was that stomach flutter again.

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