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✷ Lemon to my Lime
The air by the porch smells like salt and the grass had stained the soles of her shoes, old converses her mother had brought her for her thirteenth birthday. Of course, she'd been outside for a while now, dressed in a yellow slim shirt and red swimsuit bottoms, staining her hands with oil paint all the way to the elbow.
Undoubtedly, the Pogues were off fucking shit up. June would usually tag along and she certainly wasn't a quiet component in the Molotov cocktail made up by the particularly explosive, tight-knit group of five. However, that very specific Wednesday, she woke up feeling like she couldn't breathe. Another nightmare—same old, same old. So she had set a blank canvas out and began sketching her mother's face.
Whenever she sat on the hot, white plastic chair with the broken leg, she found herself missing the leather stools at the Coldwell manor. If she wasn't so proud, she'd have caved so long ago. When thoughts like these began to swarm, she used to drive down to the Tannyhill and hide from the world in Rafe Cameron's bathroom. June couldn't do that anymore.
She was about halfway done with the portrait when she heard the bushes that cut from the driveway to the backyard ruffle, carrying across the marsh the childish sound of bellowing laughter. June let the paintbrush fall into the tinted water pooling at the bottom of a plastic cup, wiped her hands on her thighs where faint streaks of color were smudged on the soft skin, and stood up to greet the Pogues.
They all jumped into her open arms—Kie first, the boys second—rambling about their day and the crazy morning they'd just had. Pope described it as borderline criminal whilst JJ kept saying, on and on: "It was one of our best ones yet, April. 'M sure you would've loved it. We made Gary chase us and shit."
The blonde kept his arms around her and she laughed loudly, tossing her head back and letting her hair spill onto his shoulder. "Can't believe I missed that," she grinned.
"Yeah, I wished we had you to keep blondie in check," added John B as he messed up the top of June's head, making off her already windswept hair a mess.
"Real nice," JJ scowled.
Pope rounded the group and stood in front of the easel, and his lips curled up into a small smile at the sight of it. "Hey, Junie, this...this is amazing," he complimented, lowering his voice as he did so.
June inhaled deeply, joining him. "Thanks," she smiled, but it looked a little faker than before.
They all shared a look that went right over the girl's head; she was too focused on the lines of her mother's smile to notice. John B, being the only one who understood the empty weight in the pit in her stomach, coughed, then called the others inside claiming that they were going to get dinner started.
