by Ellie Hall
At least, that’s what I try to tell myself. When life gives you lemons and all that, right? Straight ahead, glass half full, a positive to every downside… Those are the mantras I try to instill into my subconscious, even though it’s kind of hard to do when reality tries to convince me that life isn’t all rainbows and unicorns.
I get home after a long bus ride and head straight to the bathroom to clean my wounded elbow. After a microwaved meal, I plop down on my bed. So far, no one has even acknowledged my email. Not even a friendly, “Sorry, can’t make it.”
I don’t know what’s worse. The fact that no one even replied to that stupid email or that I’ll spend another Saturday alone.
I can’t even talk to someone about how I feel, as I don’t want them to say, “I told you so.” I was the one who wanted more than anything to move to LA where I know no one. I was the one who told her family and friends that this move was going to be a breeze and that I’d meet lots of fun people.
Gah, I feel like such a fool for believing it would be easy.
As I go to bed, a small flicker of hope burns inside of me. Maybe, just maybe, someone will show up tomorrow.
2
Caleb
As soon as I read the email, I know I want to go hiking with the catering girl. I don’t know anything about her, but I’ve heard she always brings the best donuts and cupcakes to our movie set. And I figure that a girl like that must be fun to be around. Plus, who talks about snacks killing us in an email to her colleagues? It’s a brave and bold thing to do if you ask me.
I check the time. It’s already eight in the morning, so there’s no use in replying that I’ll be there. I hop into the shower for a quick wash-up. Shaving will have to wait until after.
After throwing a bottle of water and a protein bar into my backpack, I head out. Getting to the La Tuna Canyon trail will take me about twenty minutes. I get onto my bike, click my helmet into place, and merge into traffic. As I zigzag my way through the cars, I wonder what kind of person this catering girl is. June. Her name sounds like sunny mornings, and hope, and coziness.
I like June—the month. I don’t know yet if I like June, the girl. I’m excited to find out, though. At work, I’m always so busy running around and doing stuff for Ryker that the craft table isn’t a spot I frequent. Maybe that’ll change after today.
The trailhead is deserted when I arrive. I park my bike, hoping I’m early and June hasn’t arrived yet, but the time on my phone tells me I’m ten minutes late.
Hmm. If June waited five minutes before starting her hike, she’s only got a five-minute head start on me, and I can still catch up with her. I set out on a light jog.
It doesn’t take me long before I spot a figure in the distance, ponytail swaying with every step. It must be June. I’ve only ever seen her from a distance, but if I remember correctly, she often has her hair in a ponytail.
“June,” I call out to her.
She turns around and frowns. I give her a friendly wave.
June frowns and keeps on walking, her pace increasing with every step.
“Wait for me,” I say. “Please, stop.”
Now she’s speed-walking.
“Can you stop and turn around?” I ask, putting my hands on my knees while I try to catch my breath. All this biking, running, and shouting is exhausting.
She’s still ignoring me. Wow. Tough crowd.
I take a deep breath in and sprint after her. When I’m almost to her side, she turns around and points a can of pepper spray at me. “Do not step any closer. I will use this,” she says, flailing the can around like a maniac.
I hold my hands up. “I won’t take another step, but you’ve got to explain one thing to me. Why send me a message to go hiking with you when you don’t want me around?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know what kind of pervert you are, or where you get your crazy ideas, but you’ve got to back off. Step to the side,” she barks at me.
I take a tiny step to the right. The path is quite narrow, and I don’t want to walk into a patch of poisonous plants.
“A bigger step,” she says between closed teeth. “Move.”
I do as she asks because I’m getting scared of her now. The way she talks reminds me of a ruthless villain in some action movie.
Holding the can in her hand still, she rushes past me. Right when she passes, another woman approaches us, and June calls out to her. “You better run, girl. There’s a pervert on the trail!”
I catch the approaching woman’s eyes, a vague recognition setting in, and I realize I’ve made a big mistake. The pepper-spray-wielding girl isn’t June at all. She’s just some girl who wanted to go on a morning hike and whom I’ve probably scarred for life.
“Sorry,” I call after her, but I doubt she hears me.
The real June stops in front of me and offers me a smile that throws me off balance for a moment. “What was that all about?”
I shake my head. “I’ll tell you on the hike. You’re the real June, right? I’ve only seen you once, briefly, and I didn’t know what you looked like, so…”
She nods. “The one and only. And you are?”
“Caleb. So, you’re the culprit who knocked over Bobo yesterday.”
June’s eyebrow shoots up. “I’m the culprit who did what now?”
“Knocked over Bobo, Ryker’s dog,” I say with a shrug.
She leans in, looking nervous. “Who told you about that?”
“Told me?” I say with a laugh. “It’s all over social media.”
June lets out an actual shriek. “What?”
I get my phone out of my pocket, but before I can show her the proof, she grabs it from my hands. Her face turns red while she reads the caption accompanying a picture of Bobo, with June in a blurry background.
“Wait, how… What? This is so not what happened!” she yells. “And why did he post this? I’m ruined.”
She throws the phone in my direction. I only just catch it before it lands on the dusty ground. Jeez, talk about feisty women.
“I’ll have you know that Bobo was the one who attacked me, not the other way around.” She’s waving her finger at me as if I’m a judge and she’s a hotshot lawyer in a murder case. “The proof is right here. I got wounded.”
She pulls her cardigan down and shows me her elbow. “Um, yeah, that’s rough,” I say, even though I don’t really think her wounds are that bad as there’s only a tiny Band-Aid covering them.
I bite my lip. “Although…”
“Although what?” she asks, her eyes growing wide.
“Ryker did say it was you who wounded his dog.”
Uh-oh. I shouldn’t have said that. She’s giving me the look of death now.
“Ryker?”
“Yeah, my boss. I’m his personal assistant. Nice to meet you.” I extend my hand, but she doesn’t take it. For a moment, we stand in silence, me with an outstretched hand, her with a look of disbelief on her face. Around us, birds sing their cheerful songs, oblivious to the tension between June and me. All that’s missing is some tumbleweed and a couple of old guns we can point at each other.
“And you came here to spy on me? To make me admit it was my fault?” She stamps her foot on the ground. “Unbelievable.”
Now it’s my turn to sound offended. “You know what’s unbelievable? How judgmental you are. For your information, I came because I thought your email sounded fun, and I wanted to accompany you. Ryker and I didn’t even talk about this that much.”
Okay, that’s a big fat lie, but she doesn’t need to know that. Ryker did talk to me about it for a long time. He called me yesterday, right after it had happened, and ranted for an hour. One entire, excruciatingly long hour. Just thinking about it gives me a headache.
“Well, maybe I jumped to conclusions,” she says, her tone friendlier now. “But if you’re his PA, then you’re the enemy. I can’t trust you.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll convince you that I can be trusted. And my job
doesn’t make me the enemy. Are you a murderer because you promote obesity?”
She gives me a shocked look. I can’t help but notice how cute she looks while she’s getting all wound up. “I don’t promote obesity.”
“You’re right. You providing the cast and crew with sugary food doesn’t mean you promote unhealthy eating, and me working for Ryker doesn’t mean I stand for everything he says and does. Point proven.”
She grins as she extends her hand to me. “Point taken. Want to start over?”
I grin back at her and shake her hand. “Gladly.”
We start walking, and I can’t help but smile.
I like June, the girl, almost as much as I like June, the month.
3
June
This morning, I considered not getting out of bed and canceling my hiking plans. No one had replied to my email anyway. Though now, walking next to Caleb, I’m happy I decided to go after all.
We did get off to a rocky start. As he talks about how he ended up here in LA, my thoughts wander to that horrible picture Ryker Stone posted on social media. And that caption! My blood boils as I think about how he talked about me injuring his dog. Thank goodness he had the decency not to mention my name.
I snort. Who am I kidding? The guy doesn’t even know my name.
“Do you think that’s funny?” Caleb asks, looking confused.
“Oh, um, sorry. I tuned out there for a second.”
He laughs. “A second?”
“Or a minute. It’s nothing personal,” I say, feeling the heat spread to my cheeks. “I just can’t stop thinking about that stupid incident with Ryker’s dog last night.”
Caleb smiles softly. “Well, think of something else then.”
“Like what?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Hiking?” He throws me another smile. “So, June, do you come here often?”
I laugh. “That sounds like a cheap pick-up line. But yeah, I love hiking. I can’t wait to explore more trails in this area. It’s so beautiful and peaceful out here. Do you have any recommendations for other fun hikes?”
“Actually, I—” he says but gets cut short by an unbelievably loud ring tone. My gaze travels down to locate the sound. “I think it’s coming from your pants,” I say. “The ringing.”
He looks down, and now I’m mortified because we are both staring at his crotch. I don’t mean to, of course. I quickly avert my gaze as he reaches into his pocket and answers the call.
My eyes dart around. If I could just find a rock to hide behind, I won’t have to face him again. Ever. I step aside and pretend to study a patch of dried-up grass while he’s talking to someone who’s clearly getting him all worked up. Kudos on him for staying polite, though.
A few minutes later, he slides his phone back into his pocket and sighs. “Something has come up. I have to run.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling a pang of disappointment. Another lonely Saturday awaits me. “Straight away? Or can you finish the hike?”
“I can’t, sorry. When Ryker wants something, it needs to be done right away.”
“Oh,” I say, trying my best not to show my disappointment. “I understand. We’ll reschedule.”
“I realize this isn’t a nice move. It’s not how I had envisioned my morning at all, but I’ve learned to go with the flow and not question anything when it comes to Ryker’s requests.”
“What does he want you to do—if you don’t mind me asking?” I quickly add.
“Last month, he had his spare bedroom painted. According to him, the painters did a crappy job. There’s something about the vibe of the paint that irks him.”
I laugh. “Paint has vibes?”
“Right? Anyway, he wants me to repaint everything.”
“What?” I scoff. “That’s ridiculous. Why doesn’t he hire another painting company? He’s got the money to do it.”
Caleb shrugs. “I know, but he said he doesn’t trust anyone but me with this job. Which makes me nervous, I’ll tell you. What if I can’t find the right paint and all?”
I shake my head. “Wow, I can only imagine.”
He runs a hand through his hair and looks at me intently. “You know, you could come with me? If you feel like it, of course. Please don’t feel pressured.”
I pretend to think for a moment. If I shout out an enthusiastic yes, then he’ll know my life is so pathetic that I don’t have any plans on a Saturday.
“I could move around some things. Let me make a quick phone call,” I say.
I smile at him and fake-dial a friend.
“Hey,” I say, trying to sound casual. “I can’t make it today. Yeah, it’s a work thing.”
I pretend to listen to what this so-called friend has to say and let out a hearty laugh, even though there’s no one on the other line. “Oh, you crack me up.” I drop another moment of silence into the fake conversation to make it more believable. “Uh-huh. Okay. Sure.”
I cover the phone with my hand. “My friend is disappointed, but she understands. We’re rescheduling.”
“That’s nice of her,” Caleb replies.
Then, the sound of an actual phone call coming through cuts through the air. Oh my god, this is bad.
Caleb lifts one of his eyebrows. “Your phone is ringing.”
I swat his remark away and turn around to hide my face. My cheeks are so hot I could make an entire breakfast on them. “Oh, I’ve got two lines on this thing. The guy at the phone store convinced me to get multiple lines. It only costs me a few bucks a month. It was a promo, though. I don’t know if you could get it at those conditions if you wanted to.”
I shake my head. I need to stop with these lies. Everyone knows a believable lie is short and to the point.
“I have another call. Bye,” I say to my fake friend on the fake phone call. Then, I clear my throat and accept the real call. It’s my landlord, whom I can’t possibly ignore. Trust me, I tried that once and…let’s just say never again.
“Hello?” I cautiously ask.
“June? It’s Patricia. Did you leave the water running this morning with the plug still in the tub? The bathroom has flooded, and our new wooden floor is completely ruined now.”
I cringe. “No, I swear I didn’t. I haven’t even showered yet.”
I try to whisper those last words so that Caleb doesn’t hear them.
“Excuse me? You need to speak up. I can hardly hear what you’re saying.”
“I said that I haven’t even showered yet,” I say only a tad louder than before.
“You what?”
I roll my eyes. How can she not have heard me?
“I haven’t showered yet,” I shout so loud that everyone on the trail must’ve heard it.
Maybe some higher power will feel sorry for me and cause a landslide or open a hole in the ground, right here at the spot where I’m standing. I could fall into the hole, slide toward a deserted place, and whiz away forever. I could get a new identity and start a whole new life.
“Well, that’s odd,” Patricia says, interrupting my daydreaming.
“Um, yeah, it is.”
Patricia lets out a sigh, and I can just imagine her pinching the space between her eyebrows like she always does when she’s stressed out. “Then how did this happen?”
“Maybe one of the kids left the water running?”
“No. They told me they didn’t, and I believe them. You know my kiddos don’t lie, June.”
I bite my lip to prevent myself from crying. “I don’t know what to say, except that it wasn’t me.”
She sighs. “We’ll talk about this when you get home, okay? This isn’t over yet, young lady.”
“Okay,” I say, and she disconnects the call before I can add anything else.
Why is she like this? When her kids lie, she believes them every single time. Two weeks ago, they pranked their parents by switching the salt and the sugar pots and then blamed me when they found out. As if I would do such a childish and unoriginal thing. But Pat
ricia and her husband claim their kids never lie, so what can I do? I can’t argue with them too much. What if they evict me? I’ll have nowhere to go.
I jump as I feel a hand on my shoulder, then I realize it’s Caleb.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his gaze soft and kind.
I shrug and paste on a smile. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Does your place have a water problem?”
“Why?” I ask, getting anxious about how much of that conversation he heard. The last thing he needs to know is that I’m not even living on my own.
“I heard you say something about not taking a shower this morning.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s because of a problem with the water supply. Just like you said. I’m not a dirty girl. Not that I’m against people who are dirty. Heck, even I am sometimes.” Gosh, where is that hole to disappear into when you need it? “I don’t mean dirty in an offensive way. What I mean is, like, when you go camping and, you know, hygienic facilities are limited and stuff. I do brush my teeth every day.”
I groan. Now I’m just a rambling crazy person. The words that come tumbling out of my mouth don’t even make sense. Great way to make a nice first impression on a guy I’ve only known for less than an hour.
He let outs a loud laugh. I’m happy at least one of us thinks I’m hysterical. “You’re something, June. I should swing by your craft table more often. Whether you’ve showered or not, I like your vibe,” he says with a wink.
I let out a puff of air. There has got to be a way to change the subject from my hygiene habits to something less embarrassing.
We stand in silence for a few seconds until Caleb finally speaks. “Why don’t we go and get that paint for Ryker?”
“Yes, let’s. I walked here, so we should probably take your car.”
He sucks in a breath of air. “Yeah, about that. I don’t have a car.”
“You’re a personal assistant without a car? How do you run errands for Ryker?”
“I’ve got a bike. It’s easier to weave through LA traffic with a bike. I’m almost always faster than when I take a bus or a cab.”