Chapter Text

Part One — Winter:

Chapter One – Axl:

Ugh. The strong smell of buttery popcorn and musty velvet has assaulted my nostrils so much I'm pretty sure my nose hairs are singed.

Surprise, surprise, my parents forced me to get a winter job. Because, you know, I don't have enough reminders that we're poor.]

I started at the movie theater because I thought it would be easy and I'd get free stuff. So far, all I've gotten is a lame discount on tickets and a pain in my neck and arm from leaning on the counter all day. And this is only my second day.

The creaky employee entrance door gets my attention. I turn slowly on the plastic stool and my heart skips a beat.

The person who walked in is my favorite type of person: a hot girl.

A really hot girl.

She has shiny, highlighted brown hair that falls in soft, wavy curls down her back. She’s short and slim, with strong, perfectly curved legs inside boot cut jeans. The bulk of her white jacket shows off her… assets. Her face is adorably flushed, and a snowflake tangled in her hair bounces as she moves.

— Hey, I’m here! Sorry I’m late. — The girl bumps against the door. — A tree fell down in my street, it took forever to drive around it.

— It’s alright. — The voice of Ricky, the manager—a decent, if lazy, guy from New Orleans, who always smells faintly of weed—calls from the back, his heavy accent cutting through the padded walls. — Just put on your uniform and get to work.

— Okay thanks. — She unwraps her red scarf and walks towards the bathroom. She has to pass my counter, so I fix my hair and lean forward on my elbows, puffing out my chest.

She turns in my direction and freezes. I smile and give her a little nod, but she just stares at me, her eyes wide. She purses her lips, swallows, and narrows her eyes, stepping away. What was that about?

When I hear the bathroom door close, I start testing out poses on the counter, trying to find my most attractive angle. Not that the Ax-man needs any help.

A few minutes pass before the door opens again. I hear a muffled conversation between her and Ricky, and then the girl appears in the hallway, her white coat open over the red polo of the uniform, her name tag clipped to her jacket pocket.

— Sup. — I flash my most charming smile.

She stares at me like I just started crowing like a rooster, squinting her eyes in a mix of confusion and fear. The girl hesitates before answering, — Hi… ?

— Sucks we’re stuck here for the winter, huh?

She shrugs, looking back to the counter she cleaned. — I like working here.

— Yeah, yeah, totally, me too. I mean, I’ve only been here for a day, but it's cool.

She nods, furrowing her eyebrows. Damn, she’s giving me nothing.

— How long have you been working here? — I try again.

— Like a month.

— Awesome. Maybe you could show me the ropes, you know? — I give her shoulder a light, playful bump with mine. — Like how to steal posters and stuff.

— You can just take them once the movie’s done showing. — She doesn’t even glance at me.

— Alright, alright.

I guess I have to give up. Not everyone has good taste, unfortunately.

After a few minutes, she squints and raises her eyebrows, a small smirk on her lips. “You don't remember me, do you?”

Crap.

— Uh…

I rack my brain, thinking of every club, every classroom, every team, every party—nothing. I’ll admit there’s something familiar in her brown eyes and full lips, but I can't place it.

— Yo, Warren! — Ricky calls out. — C’mere a second.

She turns and walks towards the voice.

Warren. The name echoes in my brain, ricocheting off my skull. Warren.

The realization finally hits me as I watch her hair swing from side to side as she walks away.

June Warren.

Suddenly, I’m eleven years old again. There’s a new girl in school with chocolate-colored hair and a laugh that’s fun to listen to. She’s a good basketball player and she’s funny. I immediately develop a
little crush on her.

The thing is, there was a Valentine’s Day party, nothing major, but it was the start of the boy-girl party thing, and we all decided to go with a date. I was going to ask June, but some other guy asked her
first, and I was told she said yes because they both liked Star Wars. And then I did something stupid. A really, really dumb, jerky kid thing.

I started telling everyone she was obsessed with Star Wars. I don’t remember the details, but we started calling her Dork Vader behind her back. When she showed up to a costume party dressed as Darth Vader, the nickname stuck. It got pretty bad. She moved to Spain at the end of that year.

— Oh, crap.

Well, it’s safe to assume she hates me. I could look down and try to swallow the embarrassment, but we’re gonna be working together all winter. At least. And she’ll probably be at my school, too. And to be honest… the indifference kind of stung.

When she walked in, my heart started pounding and it was like the day—the season—had finally started, like I’d been asleep until then. It’s weird. It’s been years since she left, but it's like I'm the same little kid with a crush. But I blew my chances back then, and they’re still blown. Crap. Well, I gotta do something about it.

She comes back with two small notebooks, each with a pen stuck in the spiral binding. She gives me a quick glance and then immediately erases the faint trace of whatever emotion was there, focusing on the notebooks.

— Ricky needs to place the orders, so he wants us to do inventory. Can you take the windows and stands while I check the supply room?

— Oh, yeah, sure.

— Okay. — She hands me a notebook.

I hesitate for just a second to brace myself. — Uh, wait!

She stops walking and turns her neck to look at me.

— I do remember you, June. — I manage a weak smile. — I mean, I didn't recognize you before, but I remember you.

That seems to get her attention. She takes a few steps to face me and crosses her arms, hugging the notebook to her chest. — Okay.

— And I think I owe you an apology.

She hides a smile, but not before I see it. — I'm listening.

I take a deep breath. — Look, I'm really sorry for the way I treated you back then. I was a stupid and kind of jerky kid, and I did stupid and jerky things. I'm really sorry.

She stays impassive for a few moments. Her left eye twitches quickly, like a spasm, almost unnoticeable, and then she smiles and nods. — Appreciate it.

I return her smile and tilt my head a little, doing the hair-flip thing. She just furrows her brow and turns away.

Weird. Normally, at this point, the girl is giggling and flipping her hair back.

— So, hey, I was thinking, — I take a step forward and she turns to face me. — since no one’s here anyway, do you wanna catch a movie when Ricky leaves? We can put whatever we want, make some popcorn, steal some candy from the inventory, haha.

She stares at me with an expression so shocked I wonder if I just cussed her out or something.

— Are you serious?

Maybe she's just surprised. It's not every day the Ax-man asks you out.

— Yeah! It'll be fun, I mean, we got a lot to catch up on.

She furrows her brow and shakes her head, way too firmly. — No. — And she walks away.

I just stare at the spot where she was standing for a few moments. Okay, I know what I did was bad, but that was five years ago. Isn't that long enough? I apologized, can't she just forgive me?

I sigh and open the notebook to start taking inventory of the candy. I mean, I don't usually get shot down, but on the rare occasion it happens, it's never a big deal, 'cause I know some other girl will be
into me.

But this is June. She was the first girl I ever really liked, and she’s even popped up in my dreams over the years. In a way, it's lucky we're working together, after all this time and distance.
It's just not lucky that she hates my guts.

Okay, okay, maybe I was arrogant to think one apology would be enough to erase everything that happened. Yeah, asking her out so fast was a bonehead move. I need to lay some groundwork first, make her feel comfortable around me. I give myself a little shake to get rid of the nervous energy and grab the pen to do my job.

​June comes back to the front, grabs my notebook, and disappears into the back again. I check my reflection in the greasy glass of the display case and fix my curls. She returns and starts arranging the bills in the cash register, humming a song I can’t quite place, but that's definitely familiar. I pretend to wipe down the counter and just watch her, trying to find a good moment to talk. One never comes—she doesn’t even blink in my direction.

​— So, — I clear my throat. June turns slowly to face me, looking kind of annoyed. — How was Spain?

​— Great. — She answers, then looks back down at the green bills in her fingers, which are covered in gold rings and long, perfectly filed nails with chipping blood-red polish.

​— Are you just here for the winter, or…

​She closes the cash register with a bit of impatience, making the metal lid slam shut. — Nope.

​— So you moved back?

​— Yes.

​Goddamnit, engage in the conversation, woman!

​— So are you going to Orson High?

​I’m not even sure what answer I’m hoping for here.

​— Yes.

​A genuine smile breaks out on my face, and I decide to trust my natural reaction. Laughing, I walk over to her and hold out my hand for a high-five. — Awesome! We're gonna be classmates again!

​She just stares at me, frozen in front of the register, not moving a single muscle except the ones that let her frown like I’m speaking Mandarin. After about twenty seconds, she turns her back on me and walks over to the popcorn machines.

​— Oh, I already filled those. — I say triumphantly, happy to have done something right.

​— Oh, okay. — Is all she says, and without looking at me, she goes to refill the jellybean dispensers where customers serve themselves by the pound.

​— I get the sense you’re mad at me.

​She whips around to face me, her nostrils flaring. — Oh, really?

​I swallow hard. — Is it because of middle school?

​She stops for a second and takes a deep breath, running a hand over her face. Her left eye does that same little twitch. — Axl, you terrorized me. Do you get that? I still have nightmares about people laughing at me and calling me Dork Vader.

​I have to try really hard not to laugh.

​— I can't even watch Star Wars anymore without having a panic attack. — She continues. — You can’t make that go away with a flimsy apology.

​— Flimsy? — I protest. — I poured my heart out.

​She rolls her eyes and mutters something I can’t hear. Probably a cuss word. — Just do me a favor, don't pull that crap again.
​I huff and turn my back, leaning on the counter just like I was before she walked through that door. — Don't worry, — I say, — no one’s gonna laugh at you, you’re hot now.