Page 47 of Shine For Me

“I’m sure that’s not—wait, you know how to code?”

I nod. “I designed the first website for FEA Threads. That was my main contribution to the company.”

“You guys started that line when you were nineteen,” she says. “You knew how to design a website when you werenineteen?”

“I taught myself in high school. A guidance counselor told me coding was sometimes easier for people with dyslexia. Something about the way we process language in patterns. Turns out, she was right. I got pretty good at it.”

June makes a weird noise and I look over to see her staring at me with an incredulous expression on her face. “So let me get this straight—you know how to code well enough to design a website for a major fashion brand. You helped design the menswear for that fashion brand. You starred in a reality show to drum up interest for that fashion brand. And you just happened to be so beautiful and charismatic on that reality show that you attracted the attention of an agent who then started to book you for major movies.” She snorts out an incredulous laugh. “Oh, and you can play guitar.”

“I think that might be overstating things a little…” I say, uncomfortable, and she laughs harder.

“Oh, Fox. You really have no idea how amazing you are, do you?” There’s so much fondness in her expression that it makes my chest clench in a weird, unfamiliar way. She leans a little closer and I’m once again hit with that scent of soft powder. “I understand better than anyone how difficult it can be to grow up in a super successful family. And I’m sure it wasn’t easy always feeling like you were in the middle, like it was hard to find your place.”

I just gape at her. I’d never really been able to articulate the way I felt about my place in my family, not in such clear terms. But somehow June can see those parts of me, the parts that I’d always felt just a little bit ashamed of. And sitting here with her right now, shame is the last thing I feel.

“I think you’re doing amazing,” she says, her voice a little softer. “I don’t think you need to compare yourself to anyone. You’re building a career that’s just yours, and that’s something to be proud of, Fox.”

“I think you’re doing amazing, too,” I murmur. She starts to scoff so I reach out and take her hand, squeezing hard. “I mean it, June. You have so much to be proud of.”

Her voice comes out a little too high, too tight. “Well, unlike you, I haven’t done anything that half the people in my family haven’t already done, and done better than me.”

“Bullshit.” Her eyes snap up at my harsh tone. “I mean it, June. That’s bullshit. You don’t need to compare yourself to anyone either, okay? You’re doing just fine.”

“But—”

I squeeze her hand tighter. “I could go on and on about your professional accomplishments—and I will, if that makes you feel better—but that shit doesn’t even matter. Not really. You want to know why I think you’re doing just fine?”

She shakes her head wordlessly, eyes locked on my mouth, like whatever I’m about to say is imperative to her.

“Because of what’s in here.” I brush the fingers of my free hand lightly over her chest, just above her heart. “You give a shit about people, June. You’re a damn good friend. You just spent your only free night in weeks helping me. You listen. I can’t believe that you remembered all that stuff about the Littles for their graduation presents.” I shake my head, my throat feeling strangely tight. “You see the best in people. Youwantthe best for people. That’s rare.”

She blinks rapidly, a sheen of moisture covering her eyes. When she opens her mouth, I squeeze her hand more tightly. “Don’t argue with me, Cain.”

She smiles. It’s a little watery, a little shaky, but it’s real. “I wasn’t going to argue. I am clearly an awesome, amazing person.”

I bark out a laugh. “Clearly.”

Her eyes grow more serious and she bites on her bottom lip. “I just…I just wish I could add bravery to my list of amazing traits.”

I study her face for a long moment and I just know, deep down, that’s she’s talking about the situation with Adam. And maybe her grandfather, too. So I squeeze her hand again and move forward to rest my forehead against hers. “Then we’ll work on that, okay? I’ll help you.”

“You will?” she whispers, her hot breath so close to my face with our heads pressed together like this.

“Of course I will. You help me with my backwards dyslexia brain, and I’ll help you find some courage to go after what you want.”

She releases a shaky breath and I can practically feel the relief flowing through her. “Sounds like a plan.”