Page 7 of Write Me For You

June

I stared at the girl in the mirror before me. I ran my fingers over cheeks that were slightly swollen due to the many months of taking steroids. I rubbed together lips slathered in the lip balm I constantly wore to stop them from cracking.

Next, I ran my fingers over my chest where my chemo port had been. Even after two years, it still felt foreign to me. No matter how much I stared at my reflection, it still took me a while to recognize the girl before me.

“Hello, June,” I whispered, finally running my hands over my bald head and bare brow.

It was something I did each day: reacquainted myself with “Cancer June.” And as much as I struggled to believe this girl was me, this sort of imposter, I couldn’t help but love her for how well she had fought for us.

Was still fighting.

It was a heady feeling.

A knock sounded on my door just as I tied a long, pale-pink scarf around my head, securing it at the back. I glanced in the mirror one more time. I wore a plain white T-shirt and comfortable, well-worn jeans, a pink sweater tied around my waist for when I inevitably felt the chill.

I opened the door only to find Jesse Taylor casually leaning against the frame.

“Mornin’, Junebug,” he said, and my heart skipped a beat.

He was so handsome. I felt like I could get lost in his forest-green eyes that reminded me of the trees behind my home.

He was wearing a Longhorns T-shirt and jeans, with the same orange, Longhorns baseball cap he had on yesterday—worn backwards, of course.

A true country boy.

“Morning, Jesse,” I said, nerves accosting me.

I’d tried to sleep last night. While the start of treatment in a couple days’ time should have been the reason why I hadn’t, it was because of this boy who had catapulted into my life in the most unlikely of circumstances.

The boy I knew was sleeping just on the other side of my bedroom wall.

I wasn’t vain. I had never seen myself as anything but normal—not pretty but not plain.

Just somewhere in between. Pleasantly average.

But since meeting Jesse yesterday, I had been rocked.

He’d called me beautiful. Me. This superstar QB who was destined for greatness—who I just knew was popular at school—had called me beautiful.

I couldn’t see the beauty on my face that Jesse seemed so taken by.

I was so confused.

“Chris, Emma, and I are going for a walk, to explore the grounds and just hang out. We wanna do it before treatment starts and we’re all puking for Texas.

You coming?” he asked, wearing a playful smirk on his plush lips.

Jesse Taylor had charm in abundance. But he wasn’t arrogant.

He was innocently cocky and cheeky. Frankly, he was magnetic, and so far, when I was near him, I felt like I was being pulled into his orbit.

I laughed at his joke, but my stomach swirled with butterflies at the invite. Here he was again, showing interest. “Sure,” I said, and followed him out of my door. “Ah, wait!” I ducked back into my room to grab my notebook.

When I came back outside, Jesse pointed at my notebook. “You’re gonna have to tell me what’s with the notebook at some point, Junebug.”

I shrugged. “Maybe I will tell you sometime…if you’re lucky.”

Jesse turned to face me, walking backwards a few steps. “Junebug Scott! Are you flirting with me?” he asked, opening his mouth in mock shock.

I came to a dead stop, sudden nerves swallowing me down. “I-I-I—” I stuttered. Had I been? I wasn’t sure I knew what it was to flirt, never mind intentionally doing it.

“Don’t worry,” he said, falling back in step with me just a fraction closer than before. “I liked it.”

I looked at him and exhaled out my embarrassment in one long breath, shaking my head in admonishment. “You’re trouble.”

Jesse’s hand landed on his chest, as though he was offended. “Junebug. How could you say that? I’m a nice, respectable mama’s boy.” I rolled my eyes at him. “Okay,” he said, and pinched his forefinger and thumb together. “Maybe I’m a little trouble. But only in the best possible way.”

And as much as we were joking around, I believed him.

This boy lit up any room he walked into, as though he operated off his own grid—I could tell that by knowing him a grand total of a day.

I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be around him in a few months’ time.

Though yesterday, when I had asked him about football, there had been something else that flickered in his eyes, a crack in his armor that made me pull back on the questions.

And last night, when I’d been unable to sleep, I’d wondered if Jesse was quite as carefree as he led people to believe.

Jesse began tossing the ball between his hands again, and I noticed what looked like a rather large pencil or charcoal smudge on the side of his left hand. “Do you draw?” I asked, and Jesse paused in throwing the ball, as if my question caught him off guard.

He tipped his hand to the side, inspecting the smudge himself, then looked at me. “What? You think jocks can’t be talented artists too?”

I couldn’t stop the loud laugh that escaped me. “Do you ever give a straight answer to anything?”

Jesse moved before me; I was now mere inches from him. “I said you were beautiful, didn’t I? I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

Time stretched before us, my breathing quickening and growing louder in my ears. The cover of my notebook creaked under my hands with how tightly I had gripped it. My heart began to flutter, and when Jesse smirked, I knew the blush on my cheeks was scarlet red.

Jesse stepped closer again, so close I could smell a musky scent that must have been from a subtle spray of cologne. It reminded me of summer nights on the porch back home—slightly woody and earthy with a warming fireside note.

“June,” he said, raising his hand toward my cheek.

I held my breath, anticipating the move, and then?—

“Jesse? June? Is that you two I hear?” The familiar sound of Chris’s voice sailed to where we stood in the hallway.

Jesse gave me a playful roll of his eyes, then dropped his hand and stepped back just as Chris rounded the corner, but Chris’s eyes still went wide seeing us standing so close together.

“Errrr…” He awkwardly hitched his thumb over his shoulder.

“Me and Em were done waiting for your slow asses, and I volunteered to come looking for you.” His attention ping-ponged between us. “Are we going to hang or what?”

I nervously played with the tail of my headscarf that hung over my shoulder, then ducked around Jesse, avoiding his heavy stare. I cast Chris a tight smile in greeting as I passed, then rushed down the hallway until I saw Emma near the exit.

Emma waved, smiling, but her smile dropped when she saw my face. “You okay?”

I nodded just as Chris and Jesse walked up behind us. I knew my cheeks were blazing. I could feel the heat on my skin. I didn’t look behind me. I couldn’t face Jesse right now.

What even was that?

My skin itched so badly I wanted to crawl out of my body. I looked down at my hand. I still felt like me even though my heart was thundering like a horse galloping down a racetrack. There was no detachment but no panic either.

I placed my hand over my heart. This wasn’t a side effect of having cancer. This was a side effect of Jesse Taylor’s affection.

I pushed out of the exit and instantly breathed in the warm country air. I closed my eyes as it filled my lungs. I could hear Jesse and Chris talking behind me, then an arm threaded through mine, linking me.

“Are you trying to run away from me, June?” Emma said, and I huffed out a laugh. My heart calmed a little as she walked beside me.

“No running,” I said and tapped my knee. “Not sure this would hold up if I tried.”

Emma laughed. “Hey!” she squealed as Chris ran by her, a bottle of water in his hand. I turned to Emma to see that Chris had squirted her as he passed.

Emma’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll get you back for that, Christopher.” I laughed at the use of Chris’s full name.

A tug on the end of my headscarf made me look to the side. Jesse rushed past me, giving me a devastating smile as he did, then chased after Chris.

I watched them as they raced down the trail ahead of us—well, as fast as their weakened bodies would allow. We followed behind them. The sign we passed showed this trail led to several routes through the ranch. Emma’s hold on me felt…nice. I’d never had a friend do this to me.

“I swear, all boys are the same. They never mature.” Emma shook her head at Chris and Jesse, but I saw her affection for them in her expression. “So, June,” Emma said, turning her attention to me. “Tell me about yourself.”

Chris and Jesse leaned over a fence in the distance. Longhorn cattle were grazing in the field, and I could hear Chris trying to call them over.

I shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. Normal seventeen-year-old from a small town…studious, a little quiet, not much to say.”

“Boyfriend?” Emma asked, smirking.

“No boyfriend,” I said emphatically.

“Yeah, I hear ya,” she said, then leaned in close. “My last boyfriend dumped me when I lost my hair. So fuck him, I guess.”

My heart broke. “Emma…” I said, “That’s awful.”

Emma shrugged. “His loss,” she said, pretending to toss her imaginary hair over her shoulder. “I’m fabulous no matter how much hair I have.” I laughed and Emma held me tighter. “I’m only kidding, but my ex does suck. He wasn’t a good guy.”

“No current boyfriend for you either?” I asked.

“Nah,” Emma said. “I’ve decided to wait for the man of my dreams. He’s in my future; I can just feel it.”

For some reason, I lifted my head and caught sight of Jesse.

He was leaning over the fence to the longhorn cows still, laughing at Chris trying to feed one a handful of grass he’d picked off the ground.

As if feeling my stare, Jesse looked my way, and his eyes softened as they met mine. My heart kicked into a sprint again.