Page 63 of Make Them Bleed

You did have the flu. You almost passed out in the bathroom and I had to keep splashing water on your face from that sink with zero water pressure.

Juno: And you missed the encore because of me.

And?

Juno: You still bring it up when you want me to feel guilty and give you the last fry.

Lies and slander.

Three dots. Stop. Start. Stop.

Juno: I don’t like being mad at you. It feels… itchy. Like I’m wearing a sweater made of bees.

I stare at that for a very long second, then type and delete three versions ofI deserve the bees.

I’m not asking you to stop being mad. I’m learning to sit next to it.

Bees like me. I’m basically a flower in flannel.

Juno: Wow. The image.

Juno: You know what else I remember about that show? Your hand on my back in the crowd. You did it so I wouldn’t get shoved. You didn’t make it weird. You just… anchored me.

I remember your hair smelling like oranges and my brain forgetting English when you laughed. Also I remember you stealing the setlist. It’s still taped under your bed, right?

Juno: Maybe it is, maybe you’ll never find out because I’ve changed the locks.

The warmth in my chest spills lower, heavier. I should keep this light. I should ask about breakfast plans and dodge the undertow. But her next message undercuts my caution.

Juno: Arrow?

Yeah.

Juno: The anchor thing… you still do it. Even when I don’t want to admit it.

Juno: Tonight at the loft when I asked you to kiss me like you might not get to tomorrow… the way you stopped when I said stop? That was… good.

Juno: I’m still mad. But. That was really good.

I sit up, elbows on knees, head in my hand. Gratitude spikes behind my eyes in a way that would embarrass Gage mercilessly.

Thank you for telling me. I’ll keep earning it.

Juno: It’s not a punch card.

Then no more metaphors. Just… I hear you.

A beat. Then:

Juno: What would you do if I were there right now?

The question lands like someone pulled the tablecloth and the plates stayed put. I swallow.

Context?

Juno: Couch. Low lamp. Hold The Peppers track 7 at an acceptable whisper. Me in your hoodie, which I stole, don’t fight me on this.

Juno: You’re allowed one paragraph. Be honest. Nothing you wouldn’t say in daylight.