Julian & Lia

by Maria Monroe

  "Where's the candy?" he whispers, and when I look at him he's smirking. I turn back to the movie. I can't figure him out. One minute he's literally pushing me away, the next he's moving his desk to sit as close as possible. It doesn't make sense, and part of me wishes I'd never met him. Things would be so much simpler, even if it meant I'd still be the bored freshman scared to use the bathroom.

  "Are you mad?" he whispers.

  "Do you think I have a reason to be?" The words come out a little nastier than I’d intended, but maybe it’s good he knows I’m pissed. I’m tired of always holding my emotions in. I turn back to the screen, hoping he'll think I'm caught up in the movie.

  I hear him pull out a notebook and pen, hear him scribbling something down. Then he tugs at my sleeve. Just my sleeve being touched by him makes me jump, makes me wish I could touch him back, could push that stupid hood off his head and run my hands through his hair. He slides a folded up piece of notebook paper onto my desk, and I actually snicker out loud.

  "Are we in third grade?" I whisper.

  "I'd text you, but Chooch forbids phones in class. Remember?" he whispers back.

  I unfold the paper slowly, then spread it out on my desk. He's scrawled: Sorry about last night. I just don’t want to hurt you.

  I pick up my pen, tapping it against the paper gently while I try to construct a coherent thought that I can write down for him. I finally write, No worries. It's cool. But I'm not a little kid. I fold up the paper and drop it onto his desk. I'm slightly worried Professor Chooch will see us passing notes, but would he really care? I push my dorkiness aside; this is too exciting for me to worry about getting caught by the teacher.

  When he sends the note back, I feel shaky as I unfold it. This is fun, but it feels dangerous too, like a game that could quickly get out of control. I don't want to stop playing, but it’s almost too easy for me to write things I'd never say out loud.

  He’s written: I don't think of you as a kid. That's the problem.

  Why is that a problem? I write back.

  When he reads that, he clears his throat and shifts in his seat. What's he thinking? Is he thinking about me? In that way? I shiver as I think about him thinking about me, a warm spiral of desire and intrigue unfolding deep inside.

  He takes a long time responding. Once, he writes something, then scribbles it out. Finally, he tosses the paper onto my desk. Problem because I shouldn't be wanting the things I do.

  I breathe in quickly. I wasn't expecting him to be so straight forward, I guess. Well, at least I know how he feels in one respect, even though at the same time he keeps pushing me away. How can I respond to that? I feel bold, because I'm writing and not talking, so I scribble, What exactly do you want?

  I think you know, he writes.

  I have a lot to learn, I respond. Maybe you could teach me. I put a little winky face after it, to make sure it seems like a joke even though it's not. The second I hand it to him I regret it. What was I thinking? I consider grabbing it back, but it's too late. He's reading it, and a low growl emanates from him as he does. He folds up the note and sticks it into his pocket without writing me back. He's silent for the rest of the class, and as soon as the lights are turned on, he's gone, without a backward look.

  Chapter Four

  I don't feel like going back to my dorm room where Greer, despite my protestations that there's nothing going on, keeps asking me about Julian. Apparently she and her friends have noticed him around, and they want information about him, information I both don't have and don't want to give. I can't go to Vanessa's because, well, Julian. So I head to the local town diner, Sal's, for a piece of pie and some time alone to think. Sal's is this cool old fashioned restaurant that makes me feel like I've been coming here my entire life when I've only been twice so far. Locals come here regularly, and I've figured out that they come for more than the food, which is delicious. Sal, who has owned the place for years, works there with his wife Ruth, and they both know everyone's names and always have a kind word and time to talk, no matter how busy they are. I love that the customers all seem to know each other, and the bustle and clatter and voices always cheer me up. So it's perfect for me today.

  "Hullo," yells out Sal as I enter.

  I wave and smile, then take a seat near the window.

  He comes over to pour me a cup of coffee. "You're from the college? Lia, right?"

  He remembered. I nod.

  "How are classes?”

  “Fine.”

  “What’s your major again?” he asks, setting the pot down on the table while he looks at me with his kind eyes.

  The big question. I've been so caught up in my "thing" with Julian that at least I haven't been stressing out about that. I can't ignore it forever, though. At some point I have to choose a major.

  I shake my head and sigh. "I don't know yet. Right now I'm just taking basics until I decide what to major in."

  "Good plan. You have time," he says. “Now what can I get you today?”

  I order a piece of pie and when he leaves to get it I pull out a notebook and start to doodle. I hate to think about what I should major in, because it leaves me anxious every time. The truth is, I'm interested in lots of things, and I don't feel prepared to choose just one. For this semester, it's OK to just take requirements, basic classes like composition and math, but I'll have to choose soon. I like writing, but I'm not sure what kind of writing. It freaks me out to think that this decision will dictate the rest of my life, and I wish I were one of those people who's always known exactly how her life should unfold.

  I smile up at Sal as he sets a piece of apple pie with ice cream in front of me. "Thanks."

  "Lia!" Vanessa's bright voice carries through the diner, and I look up to see her hurrying towards me, a huge smile on her face. Her long brown hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck, and she's got these huge hoop earrings hanging down. They almost touch the shoulders of her fringed tan suede jacket.

  "Hi!" I reply. "What are you doing here?"

  "I was walking past, on my way to the hippie shop on the corner? They have the best clothes, and all these cool stones and incense and shit. Anyway, I saw you in here and thought I'd come in to say hi."

  I smile broadly at her. It's great to see Vanessa. "I'm here for the pie. It's seriously amazing."

  “I’ve been here like a million times, but I’ve never tried the pie,” says Vanessa as she slips into the booth across from me, grabs my fork, and takes a huge bite from my plate. In exaggerated pleasure she sighs. "Oh, god."

  "Right?"

  "I'll forever trust you," she says taking another bite. "Anyway, Lia, I'm having a party. You have to come. I'm actually getting some incense for it right now. I know that's so stoner, and Julian hates it, but I don't care."

  "A party at your house?" Nervousness creeps into my belly, and my appetite's suddenly disappearing.

  "No, at Chuck E Cheese's. Of course at my apartment! Tomorrow night. Don't say no. You can drink safely with me to keep an eye on you."

  Only it's not Vanessa I'm worried about. I want to know if her brother will be there. I want to know if he'll have a date and if I'll have to watch him disappear into his room with someone. I want to know so many things that I can never ask his sister.

  "OK," I finally reply. It's easy to say yes, and I can always change my mind at the last minute.

  "It's going to be awesome."

  "I'm sure." But I'm not really sure of anything lately.

  ***

  Greer insists that I go to the party. "One reason," she says. "Julian."

  I don't know how to tell her that he's the reason I want to go, but also the biggest reason I don't think I can. I'm embarrassed about the last thing I wrote to him in our note exchange in class. He didn't even respond.

  "He is hot. And he's a senior. And did I mention he's hot?"

  "He is," I admit.

  "You should go for it." She nods as if she's giving me sage advice about someth
ing.

  "I don't think he's interested." It's more than I want to admit to Greer, but I need to talk to someone about this, and my other friend, Vanessa, definitely isn't an option.

  "The way he looked at you at the party the other night? When he said she's with me? Of course he’s interested."

  "I think he thinks I'm too young."

  "Freshmen and seniors date all the time, Lia. Like, he's only a few years older than you? It's totally not a big deal?"

  "I don't know, Greer. He acts like I'm his little sister or something."

  "You do not want to be in little sister territory with him." The look of mock horror on Greer's face actually cracks me up. "Let's change his mind." Greer sits me in my desk chair, then goes to work, doing my hair and makeup like last time. She lends me her favorite black sweater with a plunging neck line, way more low-cut than anything I've ever worn. Once again, when I look in the mirror I'm speechless.

  "This? Will totally work. Or nothing will and I'll date him instead," says Greer with a grin. I smile back, but the thought of her going after Julian freaks me out a little. "Have fun," she says, and there's a glimmer of real concern on her face.

  "I'll try."

  Once outside, though, I start to have severe second thoughts. I'm nervous—more than nervous. I'm kind of freaking out. The thought of actually knocking on their front door, of seeing Julian, terrifies me. How can I pretend that my heart's not racing and my thoughts aren't so convoluted I can barely speak? But I also feel a spark of anger that Julian's been so unreadable. Mixed signals? He's definitely been sending them, acting like he wants me one minute and pushing me away the next. Screw him, I think, and then I blush as I continue down the street to Vanessa and Julian's house.

  I can tell that this party will be a lot tamer—and a bit more mature—than the other party I went to. I can see the lights on in the apartment, but the music isn't so loud that the entire block can hear it, and there aren't drunk people hanging around outside. Standing on the front porch, I breathe in the cold air and wonder what to do. What's the protocol for something like this? Should I knock? Just go in? Why isn't there a rule book for clueless people like me? I take a deep breath and open the door.

  Inside, the lights are low, and there are candles everywhere. The air smells like a hazy mix of vanilla and sandalwood, and I immediately know it’s Vanessa’s incense. I smile, and when she sees me, she runs over and gives me a huge hug. She's wearing a pair of tight jeans that flare at the bottoms, and a fringed tank top, each fringe with a bead on it, so when she moves she makes a quiet clacking sound. Only Vanessa could look sexy instead of ridiculous in this outfit, and hugging her brings my nerves down a notch.

  "Lia, I'm so glad you're here! Come on in." She grabs my hand and pulls me farther into the living room, where a group of her friends are drinking beer from bottles and talking. Vanessa introduces me, and I promptly forget everyone's name. All I'm thinking about is Julian and whether or not he's here, but I’m trying hard not to make it obvious by examining every corner of the room.

  Vanessa's friends seem nice, though, and I sit down on the floor with them. Somebody hands me a beer in a frosty green bottle, and it's cold and not as awful as the last time I drank one. Maybe Julian's not even here. I start to relax. Vanessa's making sure to include me in the conversation, and though I feel a bit awkward, it's not unbearable. Vanessa's friends aren't so desperate and eager to be cool, like Greer and her friends, and I feel myself actually enjoying the conversation.

  A guy named Pete, a senior like Julian and Vanessa, starts talking to me. He introduces himself as a friend of Vanessa and Julian. "We're both journalism majors," he says.

  "You and Vanessa?"

  "No. Me and Julian. I've been taking classes with him since freshman year. He's really smart."

  "Yeah." I try to sound like I don't care, but the truth is that I want him to keep talking. Hearing about Julian is almost as good as being around him, and I hope Pete will provide me with some information that I don't yet have. Which is practically anything. Julian is pretty much a mystery to me.

  Pete's kind of cute, with short brown hair, a flannel shirt, and a great smile. He's one of those people who's easy to talk to so there aren't any weird uncomfortable silences, which can be an issue for me. I run between not knowing what to say and blabbering like crazy because my nerves get the better of me. He brings me another beer after a while, and we sit in the living room on the floor drinking and talking.

  "So what are you majoring in?" he asks.

  I sigh and roll my eyes. "I have no idea!"

  He laughs. “Are you having the Freshman Freak-out?”

  “I thought it was Freshman Fifteen.”

  “Doesn’t look like that’s a problem for you,” he says, glancing down at my body quickly.

  I look away, uncomfortable.

  “Seriously,” he adds. “It’s normal for first year students to freak out a little about choosing a major. Not everyone knows exactly what they want to study when they start college.”

  “I feel like I’m the only one who’s not sure what to major in.” I’m glad his eyes are staying focused on mine. "Actually, I might consider journalism too. Like you and, uh, Julian. I really enjoy writing. But I don't want to be an English major. My mom says that's not going to help me pay the bills. I'd like something a little more marketable."

  "Your mom’s smart," he says. "Not that journalists are typically highly paid. But for sure you can find something out of college."

  "I'm thinking of going over to the Journalism Department tomorrow to meet with an adviser."

  "I can bring you over there. Introduce you to some of the professors. You could talk to them too, ask any questions you might have."

  "That would be awesome, Pete."

  "No problem," he says, smiling down at me. I'm surprised that, for the first time since I met him, instead of filling the silence with conversation he's holding my gaze quietly. Does he like me? I glance away quickly, unsure of what he's thinking or how to react. I realize that somehow we're sitting closer than we originally were, and I haven't even noticed him moving closer to me. "Give me your phone. I'll put my number in," he says.

  "OK." I hand it to him, hoping he doesn't take a look at my contacts list, which is embarrassingly small. The truth is, I pretty much only call or text my mom and my best friend from high school. I have Greer's number, because she insisted we exchange numbers, and Vanessa's. But that's about it.

  "Come on," he says when he's done, handing me my phone back. "Let's go in the kitchen and get another beer."

  I follow Pete into the kitchen, which is quieter than the living room. Nobody else is here. I stand against the counter as Pete goes into the fridge. He sets two bottles on the counter, then somehow uses the counter edge as a bottle-opener to pop the top off one beer. He repeats the process for the second one, handing it to me with a flourish. It's such an act of showing off, but it feels juvenile to me, and I can't help feeling a flash of embarrassment for him.

  "Thanks," I mutter, forcing a small smile.

  "No problem." He's grinning at me, and I can tell he's feeling awkward or something else; I can't quite put my finger on what it is. "You're really cute, Lia."

  "Oh. Thanks," I say again. I know where this is headed, just like with Joel, and I need to figure out how to stop it.

  He makes a weird shrugging motion, as if he's just made up his mind, then approaches me, the grin stretching wide, as he bends his head down towards mine.

  "Um, Pete? What are you doing?"

  "Kissing you." His lips are moving closer, and alarms go off inside me. What happened? How did he go from casual conversation to kissing so quickly? What is wrong with me that these random guys in kitchens try to make a move when I don't want them to?

  "No!" I put up a hand and push him away.

  I hear a voice, loud and angry. Julian. "What the hell is going on?"

  "Oh, hey J," says Pete, stepping away from me. "Lia and I were jus
t hanging out."

  Julian looks at me, his eyes fierce and piercing.

  "Is that so?" he asks. "Because it didn't sound like Lia was interested in hanging out with you just now."

  "Dude, what the fuck?" says Pete, backing away from me even more. "Chill, OK? Nothing happened. I tried to kiss her and she said no. End of story. I'm out."

  Julian doesn't even watch Pete leave the kitchen. He's staring at me. Or maybe glaring is a better word. I can't tell from his face what he's thinking. And I'm not even sure what I'm thinking. Or feeling. The only sensation I have is my heart, beating hard, as Julian and I stare each other down.

  Finally, I speak. "Julian," I say. "What was that about?"

  "What?"

  "Getting mad at Pete. We were hanging out. He got the wrong idea. You didn't need to get so mad at him."

  "You're a freshman. He's a senior. He should have known better."

  "Like you?" I ask, my voice sarcastic. I take a big gulp of my beer, trying to fight down the tide of emotions rising inside me.

  "How many beers have you had?"

  "How is that any of your concern?"

  "How many beers have you had?" His voice is lower and angry as he steps towards me and takes the beer from my hand.

  "Julian," I spit out. I want to yell, but I don't want to draw any attention to us. "What do you think you're doing? I can drink if I want to. And I can kiss whomever I want to. It's not your business."

  "It's not even legal for you to drink."

  "Yeah, well, I'm eighteen, so it's legal for me to do . . . other stuff."

  "Other stuff?" laughs Julian. "If you can't even say it, you certainly shouldn't be doing it."

  "Oh my god. You're impossible, Julian. I don't even think you know what you want. One minute you're kissing me, and the next you're acting like I'm some kid you need to take care of. Make up your mind."

  "My mind’s made up. The problem is,” he adds, stepping closer, “my body wants something different." He closes in on me so he's standing exactly where Pete had been only minutes before. But with Julian I feel like every single cell in my body is suddenly on high alert, every inch of me waiting for something to happen, wanting something to happen.