His deep brows pull together, and his lips form an overdramatic pout. “Julian? We’re back to Julian; what happened to Jules?”
I giggle, I can’t help it. “You like that nickname, huh?”
“Only when it’s coming from your lips, Dev.” His voice sounds huskier and more confident as he says those words, and based on the way his chocolate eyes seem to be piercing my soul, I know he means them.
I shift in my chair, my body buzzing in further reaction to his tone and words. “You’re so sure of yourself. Are you always like this?”
“It’s one of my many incredible qualities,” he says, stone-faced, and then he’s back to smiling. “At least that’s what my mother always says.”
“Right,” is all I can say in response. “So, is there a reason you’re here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in the library before.”
“Oh, do you come here often?” he spouts, eyes burning with something foreign—at least to me.
“I’m not sure if that’s supposed to be a pick-up line or a serious question, but I spend most of my free time in here, yeah, though we’ve definitely gone over this.” To anyone else, my words might have made their eyes roll or judgment fill their response, but it does neither to him.
Instead, he nods his head like he did, in fact, know the actual answer and anticipated that response. “It was supposed to be a pick-up line, but clearly, I need to improve on my flirting skills.”
“Flirting skills? Is that what you’re trying to do here?” I ask as I cross my arms, my book long-forgotten on the table as something flutters in my chest.
“Trying being the operative word, yeah, but I really just wanted to see you,” he confesses with a chuckle. “I stored the information for later and hoped you’d be in here when I got a spare moment today.”
“A spare moment? Wait, are you supposed to be in class right now?” I ask incredulously.
“Guilty.” He smirks before holding up a bathroom pass, one of those obnoxiously big ones with a ruler and keychain combined for, well, who knows what reason.
“Julian—er, I mean, Jules, you’re going to get in so much trouble. How long have you even been in here? Like ten minutes? Longer? I will not have this on my conscience. Nope, I refuse.”
“Let’s negotiate then.” He smirks.
“Negotiate what? You going to class?” I question, whisper-yelling across the table at him. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m feeling more than okay, never better actually, thanks for asking,” he says sweetly, and I roll my eyes, ignoring the gigantic feeling of something new pressing against my chest.
“Fine, what would you like to negotiate?”
“Go out with me tomorrow night.” He doesn't pose it as a question, no, he just states it as something he’d like to happen, and judging by the look of sincerity and hopefulness on his face, he really does.
“On a Tuesday? It’s a school night,” I weakly object.
“Oh come on, live a little,” he gently pushes. “With me.”
“If I agree, will you please go to class so I don’t have nightmares of you flunking out of school because of me?” It’s an irrational thought, but as someone who lives, breathes, and actually enjoys school, I’m super nervous and fearful for him.
He, on the other hand, remains cool as a cucumber and confident as ever; his two defaults, I’m quickly learning.
“I’ll even pay attention the entire time and not peek at my phone,” he promises smugly.
“Fine,” I rush out, agreeing to his stipulation. “I’ll go out with you tomorrow night, but I can’t promise that it’ll be fun.”
“That’s alright, you don’t have to promise because I already know it’ll be a great freaking time.”
“You’re seriously something else,” I admit as he stands up, stretching his long, lean limbs as he prepares to head back to class.
“Yeah? You’ll have to tell me all about that tomorrow because guess what, Dev?” he asks, hands leaning against the table as he tilts his body toward mine. “So are you, and we’ll have a lot of fun tomorrow night. I’d bet my first-string position on it.”
I’m left semi-gawking as I watch him walk out of the library, but not without one last look in my direction. Even from here, I can see the sparkle in his eyes shine even brighter, if that’s even possible.
He’s charismatic and sweet and—bzzzzzz.
I jump at the sound of my phone vibrating against the desk and look down to see a text filling my screen.
Unsaved number: Save this number. You’ll need it for our date tomorrow.
Me: How did you even get my number?
My eyes widen, searching for when I might have given it to him, but with no luck.
Jules: Let’s just say I have my ways.
Me: If it wasn’t so creepy, I’d feel more flattered.
Jules: Sorry, I only focus on the good in life. Glass half full and all that. Did you say you were flattered by this gesture? Noted.
I pinch the inside of my wrist to make sure I’m still awake and smile like an idiot when a stinging sensation fires in response. He’s charming, that’s for sure. And he seems to want to get to know me. I should be flattered, I know, but it’s such new territory that it scares me more than anything. Still, I’ll let myself feel excitement for tomorrow. First real date, here I come.
Six
The next day, I’m sitting with my back against a lone tree farthest away from everyone else during lunch when I sense someone about to approach me. My body tightens in anticipation, my hands gripping the pages of the open book on my lap.
“So, here’s the thing,” a voice I’ve grown familiar with rumbles from above me. Jules takes his time sitting beside me against the tree, his thigh bumping against mine in the process. My body jolts in response. He’s acting so casual, like this is something we’ve done every day since the sixth grade—which we clearly have not.
Still, after the initial surprise, my body loosens up a little, relief opening up my chest as I breathe out. “There’s a thing?”
“Oh, there’s always a thing,” Jules shares like it’s some well-known fact, his eyes widening with what looks to be excitement. “But this thing is one I’m completely at fault for.”
I turn my body toward his, facing him as head-on as I’m able to in this position. “I’m not entirely sure where you’re going with this.”
“It’s about our date.”
“Right, our date,” I say as casually as possible, like I haven’t been obsessing over every possible detail and rereading his text since he sent it.
“Coach just sent out a mass text to let us know practice would be running late tonight,” he says on a huff, almost like he’s annoyed by it. “He wants us to review the tapes from last game more because some people apparently don’t know how their positions work.”
Whatever that means.
“Well, who has a date on a school night anyway?” I say softly, the words making my stomach flip with disappointment. “I understand.”
“You’re right, date nights are usually reserved for the weekend, so hopefully Saturday works for you. I don’t want to risk practice getting in the way of it again. I just wanted some one-on-one time with you as soon as possible because I like being around you.”
His throat bobs as if he’s nervous, though I can’t imagine why.
“Saturday works. We’ve only been around each other a few times, how can you already be sure that you like being around me?” I tease lightly, not knowing how else to react to his words. He’s more sincere and honest than I thought someone like him would be—though that’s judging a book by its cover and assuming he embodies the stereotypes of typical good-looking high school football players, which isn’t fair of me to do.
“Trust me, I just do,” he shares simply. “I was sure after you bumped into me after the game, and I’m not going to lie, I was really hoping I would get to see you again. I’m really glad I didn’t have to wait long for that to happen.”<
br />
I fight back a smile to hide how affected he makes me, something I’ve been doing since meeting him, which prompts him to offer me a full-blown one of his own. “This might be insecurity talking, and we’ve sort of already addressed this, but how do I know you don’t go around saying that to all the girls?”
“For starters, I’m here with you,” Jules states softly, voice lowering to a whisper. “And not to be full of myself, but while I’m here with you, I’m not thinking about the other girls that usually throw themselves at me.”
I roll my eyes. “I can’t tell if you’re serious or if sarcasm is a second language for you.”
“Eh, it’s more like a first,” he comments, voice sure as ever. “But if you take a quick glance around, you’ll notice I’m right. While we've been sitting here, everyone has been watching us. I guarantee they're wishing they could hear what we're talking about.”
“That’s not a very nice thing to say, you know,” I chastise. “Most people are just curious.”
My voice turns shaky at the idea of people staring at and watching me. Because let’s be real, not everyone is built to be the center of attention. Least of all me.
His hand finds my bent knee, giving it a reassuring, tight squeeze. “Are you alright?”
“Why do you ask?” I manage past a dryness tightening my throat, resisting the urge to turn my head and see just how many people are actually watching our interaction. It’s weird being on the receiving end, especially when I’m typically on the outside looking in, observing everyone else from afar. Well, save for the moments that Erin forces me to be present and involved, but that’s beside the point.
“Your knee was bouncing like you were about two seconds away from bolting on me,” he answers with a small smile. “It wouldn’t be good for my ego.”
“From where I sit, your ego seems to be just fine,” I spew, risking a glance around the quad and escaping the pull of his deep brown eyes. My heart rate picks up at the realization that he wasn’t being dramatic, not that I really doubted him, but there definitely are people outright watching our exchange. “I’m sure you don’t want to waste what’s left of your lunch sitting here with me, what with your fan club waiting and all.”
He barks out a laugh, and the sound makes my heart trip over itself. “Fan club, right. You’re starting to sound a lot like my best friend, Brax.”
My eyes widen, and with that name I’m reminded of why Julian and I met over the weekend in the first place. Braxton Jones. I’d almost forgotten they were close. I mean, Erin mentioned it a couple of times, but still, the reminder makes my head spin a bit. Why? Well, it’s just internally awkward seeing as how the list with Braxton’s name right at the top is currently pinned to a cork board on a wall in my room.
I school my features because he can see the shock take form, and I’d rather not explain that type of reaction to him.
“Well, maybe he’s on to something,” I tease, brows wiggling suggestively.
“If I do have a fan club, would that make you the president?” he questions, lips smirking my way. “Because that’s something I can definitely see myself getting behind.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can,” I shoot back playfully. “How’s your air intake right now? Ya know, considering your ego is currently taking up a lot of room.”
“A little thin, to be honest, but I’m still breathing, so no complaints here,” he fires back, voice cracking as a bit of laughter breaks through.
“You’re something else, you know that?” I laugh along with him, I can’t help myself.
“Something more, you mean? Oh, yeah, I know.”
It’s then that the lunch bell rings, signifying that we have ten minutes to get to class and saving me from awkwardly responding.
He sighs, body deflating against the tree we’re both still leaning on. “Damn, that flew by way too fast. I was hoping I’d have more time to reschedule this date of ours.”
“And I was hoping to get through a few more chapters of this book, so it looks like we’re both unsatisfied.”
My voice is light and teasing as I stand and gather my things, but as he does the same, his eyes never stray from my face. He looks almost regretful, and I worry for a moment that he’s taking my words to heart. I open my mouth to apologize, but a small shake of his head stops me.
“You’re something else too, you know that?” he comments, words steady and honest, which I’m learning are two words that seem to best describe him.
“Something more?” I fire his own words back at him, and he smiles in return.
“Yeah, definitely that.”
I don’t ask him to elaborate; I’m not sure I’d be able to speak right now if I wanted to. There are butterflies the size of doves flying around my stomach, and I have to pause to catch my breath. This is new territory, and being on the receiving end of feelings I’ve only ever read about in novels is strange for me.
The tardy bell rings, alerting us that we now only have five minutes to get to our next class—or for me, the library, where I’m sure I’ll analyze our entire back and forth because it’s jarred me, and that is more terrifying than I’d ever admit aloud, at least right now anyway, while it’s still fresh.
“I’ll text you later so we can sort out the details of our upcoming date,” he promises, walking backward toward a group of guys that stand and wait for him to catch up.
I nod in agreement, offering a small wave as I head toward the library.
That want I expressed having awhile back? Yeah, it’s coming true.
And I say just as much in a text to Erin as I take my usual spot in the library and let the company of books and silence calm me.
Still, I pop a few Altoids, chewing like my life depends on it, and let their minty freshness anchor me.
Erin: Well, you know what they say, speak it into the universe and it shall come to fruition.
I shake my head at her response.
Me: It all just seems a bit fast. Like, does falling in like have a grace period or something?
Erin: A grace period, you’re hilarious. Just enjoy this new experience and don’t get all in your head about everything. You have that date tonight, right?
Me: No, he says practice will run late. He also said we’ll go over the details later, so the date is still on, apparently.
Erin: Perfect, that gives me more time to figure out your outfit and date look.
Me: Date look? I’m not trying to impress the dude. It seems I’ve done that already.
Erin: Trust me, this will be more for you than him, but having him salivate over you will no doubt be a bonus.
Erin: Gotta actually pay attention this period, we’ll talk more later. Muah.
I release a deep breath, fingers flying over my keyboard and sending out a message even though I know he’s in class and will likely not even see it. Still, I don’t overthink it, I just do. A lesson everyone should live by, according to Erin, anyway. So, I channel her as I type the words out and hit send.
Me: Can’t wait to hear more about this date you want to plan. Firsts are always fun, so I’ll admit only once that I’m looking forward to this night or day with you, whatever you have planned.
I don’t expect a response, not so soon after at least, so when my phone vibrates against my hand a few moments later, I’m a bit shocked at how soon he’s reaching out.
Jules: Firsts? Are you trying to tell me you’ve never been on a date before, Dev?”
I bite my bottom lip, nerves twisting my gut.
Me: Maybe. Not to put any pressure on you or anything.
Jules: I work freaking amazing under pressure. After this date, all others will disappoint you in comparison, sorry not sorry.
Me: Nice to see your ego is still inflated.
Jules: What can I say, confidence is my middle…nah, I’m not even going to finish that thought. Just know I’m stoked about spending more time with you. I meant what I said before.
Me: You don’t seem like the type to say word
s you don’t mean.
Jules: I’m not, so you’ll always get the truth from me. I’d bet my life on that.
I gasp in surprise, my chest inflating in reaction to his words. I’m pretty sure Cupid is in the process of shooting me in the heart with a million tiny arrows. At least that’s what it feels like. I like talking to him, and as far as first crushes go—because let’s face it, that’s definitely what he is now—I’d say he’s pretty great.
Seven
“Can you believe it’s already date night?!” Erin squeaks, hands fussing over the wisps of hair framing my face. “Also, I’m still really offended that you won’t let me tag along as a third wheel.”
I roll my eyes for the umpteenth time since she came over to help me get ready, but in an endearing way, of course. I mean, her excitement is helping to distract me from my own nervous energy.
“I’m also really offended that you didn’t go out with me after the game last night,” she adds, and I can feel her glare without even looking at her.
“First, I don’t need a chaperone for this date. It’s at the most public of places,” I say steadily, doing my best to refrain from laughing at her ridiculousness. “And second, there was no way I was going out two weekends in a row.”
“You’re going out tonight,” she points out, hip jutting out a bit aggressively.
And then I do laugh, hard, because she is absolutely nuts, but in the best way.
“Tonight is different, and you know it,” I remind her, breathing out deeply. “I’m actually looking forward to spending time with him, and that scares me a little bit, but it’s also really exhilarating because it’s all so new. He’s so new. I just want it to go well.”
When a Heart Trips Page 4
