Just Juliet by Charlotte Reagan

Author:Charlotte Reagan [Reagan, Charlotte]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Inkitt
Published: 2016-09-16T18:30:00+00:00

10. “I do not hate Christmas!”

I had a decently sized family, most of whom lived out of state, so Christmas was usually just my parents and myself, sometimes a Skype call with a few of the others, but nothing overdone.

I hadn't seen my father's parents in at least two years outside of a computer screen, but they were visiting. My grandpa was a big man, stocky, bald with old military tattoos and hard eyes. Generally kind, in a gruff sort of way, with high standards and a no-nonsense policy.

My grandma was a short, plump, white haired woman who made too many cookies and liked to pinch people's cheeks, like a character straight out of a family movie. Everyone called her Grandma May, even though her name was Urma. I'd never really asked why.

There was music playing and gingerbread men clasped in the hands of children running about the house. Juliet was there, dressed in an oversized sweater and nothing else, her blond hair pulled back into a messy bun. She was sitting in my dad's favorite armchair with her long legs curled underneath her.

It was an oddly sexy look, because she seemed thrown together. She wasn't even wearing makeup, like she'd just rolled out of bed and put on whatever she found off the floor. Like…

Like she'd crawled out of bed after being with me.

I was both unbelievably smug about that fact and appalled because, hello, she was sitting around with my family. But no one seemed to comment on it, so I didn't bring it up either. Instead, I plucked a finger sandwich off the tray on the counter and walked across the room to perch on the arm of the chair next to her.

Juliet was in a deep conversation with my younger cousin, Graham, who was telling her all about his Hot Wheels collection. She smiled when I sat next to her though, and silently moved one of her hands to my lap, twining our fingers together. It was such an easy move, so natural, that I didn't even think about giving hers a slight squeeze before my mother asked me about what our friends were doing for the holidays.

We talked for a while; the world kept spinning around us. Everything felt fine. Until my grandfather stood. He didn't say a word, just crossed the room, put a hand on Graham's shoulder to pull him back, and then reached for mine and Juliet's hands.

Then the living room was quiet, everyone watching as the man pulled our hands apart. He dropped Juliet's dismissively, gave me a look that clearly said I should go sit somewhere more appropriate, and then went and sat back down by his wife.

“Walter,” my mother spoke up as she looked between me and my grandfather. He was sipping his tea like nothing had happened, although his shoulders were in a tense line. “What are you doing?”

My grandfather huffed out of annoyance, like he hadn't expected to be asked that question. “They look like faggots, Margaret,” he answered finally.

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