by Aly Stiles
Yeah… no. This isn’t going to work.
I run my fingers over Hadley’s upper arm, drawing her attention from the conversation with her father on her other side. She turns her head and startles when I peck her on the lips.
Her breath hitches as she searches my eyes, our faces still hovering close. It was supposed to be a simple kiss. Just enough to send a message to her predatory sister to back off. But my gaze drops to her shiny lips, my pulse now hammering in violent surges. I remember the fire of her touch, her scent, the sexy way her eyes narrow and her lips purse when she’s yelling at me.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” I say in a soft voice. I don’t even know if I’m acting right now. Shit, I might not be.
She blushes, glancing away like she doesn’t know how to take my comment either.
“Thanks,” she says. “So do you.”
“Thanks. I wore my new mascara. Glad you noticed.” My grin spreads when she meets my eyes again and finally relaxes.
“You’re ridiculous.” But her fingers start playing with the edge of my sleeve under the table.
We stare down at the scene unfolding in the small space between us. A slow, deliberate trace of my skin along the seam. A slight tug. Soon her fingers are climbing up my arm and curling around my bicep. She latches her other hand around her grip in a possessive gesture I don’t mind one bit. Sparks fire hot and urgent again when she leans forward and brushes her lips against my ear. “Also, I hate that cologne you’re wearing.”
I smile through the agony of her lips on me. Man, I’d do anything to keep them there.
“You hate it? Really…” I say, tossing a skeptical grin. Her body clearly doesn’t hate it. Nothing about the way her fingers are digging into my arm hates it. Her lips definitely don’t hate it when they linger near my neck, her hot breath inviting my imagination to dangerous places.
“It’s distracting and makes me want to do things,” she whispers. “Break rules, and you know how much I hate breaking rules.”
Damn. I swallow hard, having no response as my body launches a full-scale assault on my will. My hands tremble to take her and devour her right here in this restaurant. Blow off this stupid dinner. Find an empty room—
“And what about you?” Jasmine asks Naomi in a high-pitched voice more appropriate for a toddler.
“What about me?” Naomi asks, carving random patterns in the tablecloth with a butter knife.
Despite the fire ripping me apart at the moment, I can’t help but smirk at the exchange. Hadley shifts her attention to the train wreck about to occur as well. Her grip tightens on my arm, but her expression is more anticipation than fear.
Jasmine straightens, clearly not used to not being worshipped. “What… um… are you into?”
“You mean like drugs and stuff? Mostly meth,” Naomi says with a straight face. “Uncle J gets it for me since I’m not eighteen.”
“I don’t want her out on the street late at night. She’s got homework,” I explain.
Jasmine’s eyes widen, and I can’t stop the muffled snort that escapes at her abject horror. Her face tightens in indignation when she realizes she’s being played. That neither of us give a flying you-know-what that she’s Jasmine Crawford, latest recipient of the Baxter Award or whatever. That hell no am I going to fool around with her.
This time the silent message flowing between us is from me: Not. Interested.
Her expression transforms into a clear pout that rivals anything my eleven-year-old niece ever wore. I’m saved from further facial chess when Remington calls us to attention.
“Now that we’re all here, let’s start with a toast. First of all, thank you to Teddy for making the trip all the way from Italy.” He does a polite partial clap in the direction of his son who smiles and nods.
“But now for the real reason we’re here. Jasmine, from the moment your mother held you in her arms, we knew you’d be special. You always had that charisma that made you stand above the rest. Yet, even with your countless achievements, we never imagined we’d be sitting here celebrating a Baxter Award nominee! Congratulations, darling, this is truly a spectacular accomplishment. Your mother and I were in our late thirties before receiving our first industry nomination. To do so at twenty-one is truly remarkable.”
He lifts his glass and addresses the table. “Please raise your glasses and join me in honor of the incomparable, Jasmine Blaire Crawford!”
“Here, here,” Pearl calls out, holding up her glass before taking a dainty sip.
“Way to go, sis,” Teddy says, nudging her arm.
Jasmine absorbs the praise with practiced humility. I see it in the way she watches each person to make sure they’re appropriately adoring, even as she slants her head to make it look like she’s embarrassed.
“Congrats,” Hadley mumbles.
“Thank you,” Jasmine says in a smarmy tone.
Hadley studies her empty plate as the chatter resumes around us. Servers enter with the first course—some tiny cracker with colorful shit on top—but I’m glued to Hadley’s face. Her entire persona has changed. Her expression, her body language, the way she carries herself has all collapsed into a shadow of what she was just a few minutes ago in the car. The confidence and poise I so admire about her has suddenly been stripped away. It’s like she’s trying to fade into the background and disappear.
Her family acts like she has.
I notice how her parents address the other two children like they’re moons in orbit. The four of them exchange accolades and boasts with exaggerated enthusiasm, but they never include Hadley. Not once. Come to think of it, her father’s speech left her out as well.
Anger simmers low again, emotion that shouldn’t belong to me, but suddenly overwhelms my patience. It’s not quite the same rage as when I encountered the texts from Danny P, but it’s coming from the same place. A deep protectiveness that wants to jump on the table and demand that these phony people take one long look at the only real star in this room. They’re gushing over moons when the fucking sun is sitting right here.
I reach over and squeeze Hadley’s hand. She glances up in surprise, her weak smile tugging at my heart.
“So Julian, you joined Viv Hasting’s band?” Teddy asks from across the table. They even acknowledge me before saying a word to her. The room quiets, all eyes on me.
“Actually, Viv joined my band, but yes we’re bandmates.”
“And is that how you two met?” Pearl asks. She takes the tiniest nibble of that cracker thing I’ve ever seen. It wasn’t even worth the effort of picking it up. I ate mine in one bite. It tasted like a mushy meatball. Also, pretty sure I answered that question already, but I had no expectation she was paying attention.
“Actually no. We’re neighbors. She came up to yell at me one night for being too loud, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. I mean look at her.” I even add an adoring glance in her direction. My smile falters at her intense return stare. I can’t tell if I’m acing this or failing miserably. “But I’m not gonna lie. I wasn’t too upset when she happened to show up to our first rehearsal with Viv.” So that’s totally a lie, but whatever.
“Hmm… I guess the fact that Genevieve is now Viv Hastings hasn’t changed anything for you, Had?” Jasmine quips. “You’re still following her around for a living?” She pops the cracker in her mouth, and I revel in the moment she realizes it’s not what she thought it was. She chokes a little, her eyes watering as she coughs as discreetly as possible and forces it down.
“I’m going to continue being her PA, yes,” Hadley says in a stern voice. At least some of her fire is back. I hadn’t realized how much I craved it until it was extinguished. No wonder I like to piss her off so much.
“Well, maybe things will slow down, which will give you a chance to figure out what you really want to do,” Remington cuts in with a patient smile.
Hadley stiffens, her fingers tightening around mine. The dude is serious. What a dick.
&nbs
p; “Viv is as busy as ever,” Hadley forces out, her voice strained. My fingers are going numb from blood loss. “She still needs me.”
“Yes, but you have the perfect out now, darling,” Pearl says. Her pitying look makes me want to punch her. I can’t imagine what it’s doing to Hadley. Oh wait, I can. Shit, I’m going to have to pry her fingers off mine. “Given the drastic change, I’m sure she’ll understand why you’re quitting and it won’t damage your friendship. She’s such a reasonable girl. I’ve always admired her, you know.”
“I know,” Hadley mutters. “But I’m not quitting.”
“Hadley, dear, we just want what’s best for you. You have so much potential. So many opportunities for greatness, and we don’t want to see you squander them. You enjoyed modeling when you were younger, why not give that a try? Teddy, you can get her an agent, right? She’s not too old?”
“She’d have to wear makeup and be willing to get naked in front of strangers,” Teddy says with a snicker.
Fuck, this isn’t happening. Now, I can’t tell which of us is gripping the other harder. My fist isn’t as innocent as Hadley’s, though. No way I survive this encounter without bloodshed.
“I don’t want to be a model,” Hadley snaps.
“But, you have the bone structure. And the height! Wouldn’t she be a fantastic model, Julian?” Pearl asks me. “Tell her.”
Hadley grunts, and finally eases up on my hand enough for the blood to flow again. I run my thumb over hers, as much to soothe my anger as comfort her.
I lift a brow, scanning all of them to make sure I have their attention. “Do I think she’d be a fantastic model? Yes.”
Everyone nods a triumphant I-told-you-so, while Hadley glares at me and tugs her hand away. I lean back and cross my arms. “She’d be a great model because Hadley would make a fantastic anything. She’s a fantastic PA. A fantastic friend. A fantastic girlfriend. She’s just a freaking fantastic human being, so yes, anything she decides to do will be amazing.”
My words settle awkwardly over the table. The others avoid my gaze, visibly smarting from my subtle reprimand. Good. May they choke on their snobbery and stupid miniature food. This time when I meet Hadley’s eyes, they’re obscured by a glossy sheen.
Thank you, she mouths, resting her hand on my thigh.
I scoop her fingers in mine and bring them to my lips. With a soft kiss, I let go as the servers burst into the room with the next course.
Naomi shifts beside me, and I glance down to see her fist hovering under the table. I smirk and tap it with mine.
CHAPTER 10
HADLEY
I wanted a fake boyfriend to annoy my parents, not a knight in shining armor who was going to re-wire my entire relationship with them. I still can’t get Julian’s speech out of my head, the way he knocked the critiques from their judgmental mouths.
No one said much after that. The rest of the dinner courses came and went with awkward conversation about the food, the weather, and anything but the usual topic of how I’m wasting my life because I chose not to be them. Because I like being in the background. I’m not settling, I want to be the person making someone else shine. I’m a detail person, a rule-follower as Julian says, and I love my rules. Order. Having the freedom to make mistakes and hide when I want to. The only thing I don’t love about my life is their refusal to accept it.
Julian doesn’t even know he’s wearing a superhero cape as we say our goodbyes and rush from the stifling restaurant into the cool evening air.
I watch him the entire ride home, captivated by the way his eyes scan the road. The way the muscles in his forearm stand out below his rolled up sleeves when he grips the wheel. How his hair is so perfectly messy right now and begging to have my fingers run through it. Was anything he said tonight true? What if it was? What if those touches were real and those public confessions were also private messages for me? Does he really think I’m beautiful? I know he does. He’s said it before. But what about the rest? I suck in my breath at the thought.
I want to touch him again. To reach out and feel his thigh on my palm or the constriction of his bicep in my fingers. I burn at memories of his solid arm, the corded muscle on display when he leaned back on his bed the other night. I’d do anything for another shot at that moment. Maybe I’d still pick a fight, but I wouldn’t leave this time. I’d rile him up until his fists clenched and that devastating body was coiled in taut energy ready to explode. And then… my gaze drifts to his jeans and my heart beats faster.
I remember Julian in a towel. His hair wet, his eyes… I close my own, fighting the sudden surge of heat. It floods my body, burning in forbidden places. Why Julian? How can this guy I hated just days ago ignite fires I didn’t even know I had? Because I’m blazing right now, pulling in long breaths of cool air to soothe the burn.
“You okay?” he asks, those gorgeous eyes flickering to me after he pulls into a parking space at our building. Naomi is asleep in the back.
I swallow and drag my gaze to the windshield. “Thanks for what you did tonight. You went above and beyond the call of duty.”
“Anything for Viv,” he teases, his lips curling up when I glare at him. I swat his arm, but the contact sends another surge of electricity through me. My open palm lingers where it struck him. It’s like I can’t pull away.
“Julian…” My voice is soft. I don’t even know what I want to say.
Concern etches his face as he waits, the lines deepening the longer I maintain the silence.
“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” he says finally when I still don’t speak. “Your family is just… It’s bullshit, Hadley. You know that, right? Everything they said is complete freaking bullshit.”
I blink up at him, the earnestness in his eyes taking my breath away. It’s like he’s begging me to believe him. Everything he does is always so intense, his heart on his sleeve, take it or leave it.
I reach over and touch his cheek, my palm resting against the rough surface of two-day stubble. Geez, could he be more beautiful right now? That perfectly symmetrical face, those eyes that demand and give so much at once. My thumb moves, drifting over his lips. I watch in awe as it glides slowly, envious of its bravery because me? I’d never make that mistake.
He’s a hurricane; I’m the barometer.
I pull my hand away and tuck it in my lap.
“I should go. Thanks again for your help tonight,” I say. But his eyes. They’re not done with me yet. I swallow the lump in my throat, my body trembling as I fight the pull of his gaze. In seconds I’m swept into the abyss. “Julian…” I whisper again.
His slight smile rips through me. “You keep saying my name.”
“I know. I’m sorry, just…” I stop.
Just.
Just what?
He raises his eyebrows, waiting.
“Just, I like saying your name,“ I finish finally.
His smile spreads into a grin. “I like you saying my name too.”
I lean back, as if putting more space between us will tame this raging fire. “You’re not what I thought.” The words come out almost breathless, probably because I stopped breathing a while ago.
He studies me for a moment, his gaze landing on my fingers as they caress the door handle. I can’t tell if they’re preparing to open it so I can flee, or hold it shut to lock me in this excruciating, delicious tension. Is he wondering the same?
“Well, you’re exactly what I thought,” he says smugly. “I just didn’t know I liked it so much.”
What are you doing?! Crap, crap, crap.
I pace the foyer of Julian’s apartment, biting my thumbnail with each frantic step. He carried his sleeping niece up from the car and is now tucking her into bed for the night. Oh, and asked if I wanted to come up. And I said yes. And now I’m here and… are you insane?!
I should just leave. I’ll text him and say I was pretty tired after all. He’ll understand. We both have an early start tomorrow.
I reach for the door and
freeze at the memory of Julian walking through it with Naomi in his arms. The soft look in his eyes as he gazed down at her and whispered he’d be right back. Every female hormone in my body came together for some weird symphony in that moment, rocked by the rare glimpse of a different Julian Campbell. Who knew the guy who could take on an army of teenage thugs and stand up to my parents without so much as a blink, would also have a tender streak?
I’m still disoriented from the whole thing. And ridiculously turned on, which is why I need to go. I don’t trust myself right now. My thoughts this entire evening have been singularly focused on one thing and that thing… is now walking toward me unbuttoning his shirt.
Oh. My. Goodness. Gracious.
“I’m just gonna change quick,” he says, yanking the newly freed fabric over his shoulders.
I can’t breathe as he slides out of it, every muscle flexing and defined through his thin undershirt. “You okay? Want to borrow something? That dress looks…” He stops, his expression shifting when he notices mine. I still haven’t moved. Heck, my mouth is probably hanging open all cartoon-like, and I tighten my jaw, relieved when my lips don’t adjust. They’re still closed at least.
“What?” he asks, taking another step forward. He follows my gaze to his chest, a mischievous smile breaking over his lips when he clues into what’s happening right now. “Ah.”
He takes another step forward, and I step back. He pulls his undershirt over his head, dropping it behind him on the floor.
Oh. Crap. Oh, oh, oh.
I blink, trying to pretend every cell in my body isn’t suddenly on fire. That with each step toward me he isn’t torturing the very structure of my insides. My fingers ball into fists, trembling with the need to touch him. I take another step back. He moves forward. I move again and stiffen at the feel of the wall at my back. Nowhere to run anymore. I will have to tell him I don’t want him. Force my mouth to utter that blatant lie because right now, there’s nothing I want more.
