June's POV:
{In the past continuation of June confession}
That night, I couldn't sleep.
My heart was racing, pounding like a drum against my ribs, and my thoughts were spiraling in every direction. I stared up at the ceiling, blankets tangled around me, while the image of Alex's face kept flashing in my mind—his serious voice, those unreadable eyes that somehow still felt… tender.
I curled deeper into my blanket and reached for my phone, the screen glowing softly in the dark. I'd been scrolling for what felt like hours—looking for the cutest outfit, the perfect accessories, anything that might make me feel more confident for tomorrow.
It wasn't just any outing. Alex had promised to give me his answer. The answer to the confession I'd made what felt like a lifetime ago.
My chest tightened.
"What if he doesn't feel the same?" I whispered into the darkness. The silence of my room didn't answer, but my own mind sure did—feeding me every possible worst-case scenario. What if he just wanted to turn me down gently? What if this was his way of letting me down without embarrassing me?
I shook my head, sitting up in bed with a frustrated sigh. "No… no, June. Think positive. He wouldn't have asked you out if he was going to reject you. Right?" I tried to reassure myself, pressing a hand over my heart to steady it. Still, the doubt clung to me like a fog I couldn't shake.
I tossed and turned for what felt like forever. My blanket ended up wrapped around me like a rope, and no matter how I tried, I couldn't shut off my brain. I checked the clock. Midnight. Then one. Then two.
When the first light of morning finally peeked through my curtains, I sat up bleary-eyed and exhausted. I looked like a mess—dark eye bags, pillow-creased cheeks, tangled hair. Great.
With a groan, I dragged myself to the mirror. "You can do this," I told my reflection, even though I didn't quite believe it.
I grabbed my makeup kit and went to work—concealer, blush, mascara. Layer by layer, I hid the fatigue and brought myself back to life. Then I slipped into the outfit I'd picked: a soft pastel skirt and a white blouse with lace trim, paired with my favorite pearl earrings. Not too flashy. Just… cute. Soft. Me.
After what felt like a hundred glances at the clock and a thousand silent pep talks, I finally left the house.
Every step toward the bus station made my heart beat faster.
And then I saw him.
He was leaning against a post, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes scanning the street. The second he looked up and saw me, my breath caught in my throat.
"Sorry I'm late," I said, trying to sound casual even though my face was burning.
Alex shook his head, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "You're right on time."
Then—he took my hand.
Just like that.
My heart stopped for a second. I didn't move, didn't even breathe. But I let him lead me onto the bus, fingers still curled in his. The ten-minute ride to the amusement park passed mostly in silence, though Alex teased me once or twice about how I looked like an overexcited child. Which, okay—fair.
But when we got there… it was magic.
The whole park was alive—bright colors, music, laughter, the smell of popcorn and cotton candy hanging in the air. Kids ran past us with balloons. Couples held hands. It was like something out of a dream.
"You brought me to a fun park?" I laughed, raising an eyebrow.
"You need to loosen up," he replied, shrugging. "Stop thinking so much."
I rolled my eyes, but I was already smiling.
We started with the carousel. I chose a white horse with gold trim and rode it like a kid, giggling uncontrollably. Alex didn't ride—he just stood nearby watching, hands in his pockets, looking at me with the softest expression I'd ever seen on his face.
After that came bumper cars. And oh boy, I took no prisoners. We slammed into each other like maniacs, and I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. Then we shared cotton candy under a tree, wandered into the spinning teacups (which made me so dizzy I almost collapsed), and ended up leaning on him while I caught my breath.
"Serves you right," he said, steadying me.
"You didn't stop me!" I accused, breathless.
He just smiled again.
We tried almost everything—the haunted house (I screamed and grabbed his arm), the ring toss (where I won him a tiny bear), and the shooting game (which he nailed like a pro). And then came sunset, soft and golden, wrapping everything in that warm, dreamy light.
That's when he led me to the Ferris wheel.
We climbed into a cabin together, and it lifted us slowly into the sky. The higher we rose, the quieter the world became. Below us, the park was glowing like a little city of lights.
My heart wouldn't calm down.
And then—he spoke.
"About your confession…"
I held my breath. "Yeah?"
"I've thought about it," he said, his voice low and unreadable. "And I wanted to give you a real answer. But before I do… there's something you should know."
I turned toward him, trying not to panic. "What is it?"
He looked out the window, like he was trying to find the words. Then back at me. His eyes met mine—deep, dark, intense—and something about the way he looked at me made my stomach twist.
"There's a part of me I haven't shared with anyone here," he said quietly. "It's something I've kept hidden for a long time."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
His fingers brushed the top button of his shirt—but then stopped. He looked at me again, and this time, he smiled faintly.
"I know I'm weird. Different. And maybe that makes things complicated. But my answer… is yes. I feel the same."
I froze.
"You… do?"
He nodded. "Yeah. But I'm not expecting you to understand everything yet. I just wanted you to know that what you said—it mattered."
I didn't know what to say. My heart was swelling with something too big for words, but at the same time, there were so many things I didn't understand.
He added, softer now, "You don't have to say anything right now. Just… don't run away."
But that's exactly what I did.
The moment we stepped off the Ferris wheel, the confusion hit me all at once. His words. His expression. That strange pause, that secret he didn't say. I couldn't take it.
I turned and ran.
But then—his hand caught mine.
I stopped.
We looked at each other. His eyes searched mine like he was trying to reach through all my panic and say something without words.
"I didn't mean to scare you," he whispered.
I swallowed hard, gently pulling my hand from his. "I just… need to think."
And I left him standing there.
I disappeared into the crowd, my heart heavy and my thoughts a storm. I didn't know what I was feeling—only that something had changed, and I wasn't ready for it.
Not yet.