The rattling and pounding stopped with an incredibly forceful crash that preceded enraged footsteps. I sunk to the floor, quickly backing myself into the curtained storage space beneath my kitchen sink, continuing to convulse while holding the knife against me.
“Little bitch, little bitch, don’t be such a whore.” The voice was now in my home, footsteps thumping while objects smashed and collided with one another in his tornado. He continued to call for me, shouting slurs through a voice I didn’t recognize. I may as well have been sitting in my freezer, I was so cold. Condensation from the plumbing dripped on my bare knees, trickling along the length of my twisted legs. I like this fabric. I bought it at a festival in the Common last spring. His voice boomed, threateningly close.
“Little bitch,” he whispered, acid seeping through his laughter as his footsteps stopped in front of my sink. I could clearly see scratches on his black boots, the scuffs that tore through the leather. A vulgar metallic pop filled the small kitchen, and my heart ceased its rapid beat. A second explosive sound resonated before the boots separated, making way for the rest of the intruder’s body to tumble onto the floor. Don’t scream.
“Aideen!” Is that Julian? I sealed my eyes, unable to speak, unable to think. He screamed for me again, the sound echoing as he entered different spaces of my apartment. I heard feet pounding throughout, but I couldn’t move.
“Aideen!” he shouted once more before his fingertips poked through the curtain, separating the small panels to reveal my hiding spot. “Oh, babby.”
I was practically naked, only the top half of my body contained within my robe. I hadn’t thought to be mortified because I couldn’t consider anything but the dead man lying between Julian and me on my kitchen floor.
“Come here.” Julian held both of his hands out to me, his eyes never leaving mine. “Please.”
I wouldn’t budge; my body refused to accept him, refused to move anywhere with that corpse between us.
“Ferrell,” Julian snapped, still looking at me, “handle it.” Handle it?
“Aideen, let go of your knife,” he distracted me. “You’ve cut your chin, babby. Drop it. I won’t hurt you. You know this. Drop the knife.” Julian shifted, squatting on the balls of his feet once the intruder’s body was slowly pulled from behind him.
“Give me your hands or give me your knife,” he resumed, concern etched through each magnificent line of his deep blue eyes. “I won’t make you move. I’ll pull you out of there, but let go of the knife.” I did as he directed, finally, my eyes welling with tears.
“Good girl.” His groan was a whisper as he leaned forward to pull me into his arms, his eyes burning into mine. He’s distracting me or he has impeccable manners. Julian carried me around the corner, shielding my view by pressing his head onto mine while we entered the bathroom. He kicked the door shut and set me on the floor, my bare bottom contacting the bathmat, reminding me of just how vulnerable I really was. I watched his legs as he moved around above me.
“Here,” he placed a towel on my lap and knelt down to tighten the top of my robe, “Aideen?”
“Seven,” I muttered, panting for air while clutching his knee. “He’s seven. Seven. Don’t let me be eight. Don’t. Please.”
“We need to get you cleaned off.” Julian ignored me, lifting a corner of the towel to my chin and examining my self-inflicted wound. “Not too bad. Just a scratch.”
“How,” I breathed, words now able to form on my tongue, “how did you…you were so fast.” Julian’s eyes closed, and his tongue glided between his lips, something I realized he did when he anticipated me not liking his response. Or he is just beautiful and does that to distract you. Or he is just beautiful and everything he does is attractive.
“I warned you that you’re not safe.” He sighed. “I had Ferrell watching your building today. He didn’t see this guy come in, Aideen. He must have been waiting for you longer than we thought.”
“You had someone watching me?”
“I told you you’re not safe, and I don’t want you to die. If you won’t let me protect you, I have to let someone watch you.” This is unreal.
“I still hate you,” I muttered, my face falling into Julian’s chest as our heaving breaths calmed.
“I know, babby.” His words were muted. Julian’s hand combed through my hair, and I couldn’t pull away. I was again held prisoner in his confinement, weakening with each exasperated breath that tore through my throat.
“I’m going to be sick.”
“It’s your nerves,” he attempted to assure me. “You’re going to be fine. You’ve never seen a dead body before, have you?”
“No.” His hold released, allowing me to reestablish some sense of dignity in the confined space.
“You said eight,” Julian recalled, kneeling in front of me. “What did you mean?”
“What?” Looking up into the radiance of his blue eyes was hypnotic, worse than his normal smile. I was still too drunk to be in such a small space with him. Someone just tried to kill me. They’re dead now. Thanks to Julian. Oh my God. I’m going to be sick. Julian reached for my hands and wrapped his long fingers around my trembling wrists.
“Please.” I wiggled free from his grasp, holding the towel against my exposed thighs once I struggled to get on my knees. Just great. If I weren’t so drunk, I could think of something witty to say, something defensive, and I could kick him out now that he saved me. Oh my God, I am so drunk. How did this happen?
“Where’s your closet?” Julian stood, his eyes downcast as he chewed on his top lip. My closet? So he can stuff me in there and tie me up with his fancy ropes?
I slurred my speech, quickly losing my fading grasp of reality and slipping into a drunken stupor that swirled with shock. “Why, buddy? You want to…tie me up again? Hmm? Not happening.”
“You’re drunk,” Julian sighed, his lips pursed while the minty air exhaled from his mouth.
“You’re disappointed.” I paused, trying to nod toward my closet door. “Over there.”
It came at me full speed, like a whirlwind of regret colliding with my brain cells. I am too drunk to be around this man. I watched his eyes tighten while Julian’s fingers slowly combed through his hair. My adrenaline pumped so quickly that my body hadn’t realized I even consumed Mr. Riesling, and now it slammed like a tsunami, one powerful wave that destroyed barriers and boundaries. Just be cool, Aideen, be cool.
Julian responded to the light tap against my bathroom door, opening it just enough to allow for his head to squeeze through while someone spoke to him. From behind, I studied the full length of the god perched between the door panel and frame.
I realized how gross my apartment was with his crisp and regal presence in my bathroom. The doorframe had finger smudges, swipes of mascara, and the door itself peeled from steaming bath water. What a dump. Sorry I don’t live in a palace with ten servants and shit, you ass. I didn’t know why I was so angry at him. Maybe because he was sober and I was drunk. Maybe because he was wearing clothes and I was not. Maybe I was mad at him because someone just tried to kill me and he had Mr. Scare-ell on my tail, and then Mr. Scare-ell couldn’t even protect me in a timely fashion. I mean, what the hell, people?
Julian wasn’t wearing a suit, but considering I saw him in only a pair of sweatpants, I wasn’t surprised that his wardrobe occasionally changed. Oh, Lord, why did you take my mind back there? The sweatpants, the chest, the tattoos…I need some water. Feeling. Hot.
“Hot,” I muttered, my eyes staring at the ground. “Hot.”
Julian’s head spun around, his hands bracing his posture while he held onto the door. “What’s that?”
“Closet. You. Out. Bye.”
With a smile spreading across his mouth, Julian resumed his conversation with someone on the opposite side of the door. I’m stuck in my bathroom with Julian Molloy. Jesus. Julian opened the door after a moment of silence, slowly stepping into the main room of my apartment.
“Stay there,” he hollered and, naturally, I mocked his demanding tone while standing in my bathroom. I shivered with a drunken rumble. Please don’t throw up with him here. Please, please. I looked into the mirror above my sink, lifting my head to examine the cut under my chin. It was a pitiful accidental, self-inflicted wound, but it would leave a pretty scab to remind me of that day. My hair was still damp, knotting in all the wrong places. My eyes were red, bloodshot, and horrendous. How could he even touch me? How do I have brain power to think about him at all right now?
“Put these on.” Julian’s arm stretched between the door and the doorframe, holding sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt.
“What, no knickers?” I snickered to myself—not so much. I quickly realized the words tumbled from my inebriated lips and the heat of my nerves boiled beyond control. I heard the soft rumble of his laughter from the other side, but no words followed suit. My lip pierced between the nervous bite of my teeth while I tried to calm myself. It was futile. I was drunk beyond function. I’ve got this. Just…pretend you didn’t almost just die and that Julian Molloy didn’t see your bits and pieces and you’ll be just fine. I clung to the side of the bathtub while pulling on the sweatpants, my bum almost going over and taking me backward into the tub. Julian tapped at the door.
“I’m okay,” I muttered, climbing from the side and pulling the shirt over my bare body. With my hair pulled into a messy, unforgiving knot against my skull, I studied my reflection in the mirror. This girl needs some water as soon as heavenly possible. My eyes were drained, colorless, and empty. It was depressing. The last time I stood above that sink, Elliott called me and then, well, I lost him. So my life is just wonderful these days. It didn’t matter what I looked like. I wouldn’t remember embarrassing myself. Thus, I stepped out into the main room and glanced around with trepidation.
“Don’t worry.” Julian’s voice carried from elsewhere, a suspicious echo I couldn’t discern. “It’s dealt with. You can come out.”
“So,” I pinched the bridge of my nose while inching into the space, “it wasn’t a nightmare.”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“And,” I turned a corner, seeing Julian standing next to my mattress, hands stuffed into the pockets of his trousers, “you saved me. Again.”
“I did.”
“I almost died. Again.”
He nodded, his eyes lifting to meet mine. Damn, they’re gorgeous. My legs quivered beneath his gaze, or maybe it was the wine. Is he wearing a t-shirt? I squinted, slowly approaching him from across the room. Yep. Biceps. Tattoos. Arrogant man.
“You saw…you saw me…” I closed my eyes, overcome with embarrassment while I struggled to shake my head and the image of Julian carrying me half-naked into the bathroom. And staying with me in there.
“I did. It’s just skin, Aideen.” Julian took one slow, deliberate step toward me while removing his hands from the pockets of his tailored pants. “Nothing over which to fret.”
“Just…skin,” I repeated, heat radiating from my body as it collided with his approaching chest. Julian’s hands cupped around my shoulders, keeping me in place before him.
“Your skin is lovely.” He inhaled, swallowing a hefty thought while his eyes momentarily closed. “You shouldn’t be this drunk.” Wow. Thanks for the compliment. I pulled back, wiggling from his hold, my fuzzy eyes glaring at him.
“You should go.” Are there two of him? They’re both so pretty. Julian reached out for me again, attempting to stabilize my wobbling movements. I froze beneath his warm touch, my lungs ceased. Am I dying? This is such a pretty way to go. He smells so nice. I love wine.
“Oh my God,” I blurted, pulling myself from the soft hold of his hands against my arms, realizing the finality and force behind his presence. My ankles weakened, my heart pumped with anxiety and embarrassment.
Julian stared at me, his eyes blurring into a haze of blue that scrutinized each blink of my own, his brows meeting above the dark pools of sapphire. I didn’t know what to do first—cover my mouth so I didn’t throw up all over Julian Molloy or pull my shirt over my face so he couldn’t see the tears about to drown both of us. I spun around, struggling to breathe.
Julian whispered my name, his fingertips grazing my shoulder. I flinched, my body and heart in conflict. Shaking my blurry, drunk head, I ran from Julian, returning to my safe space of the bathroom. Please don’t follow me in here. Unless, of course, this is a dream and you’re bringing wine. Oh, Julian, please, I’ll have some Moscato this time.
“Aideen.” His voice was soft, an eerie delicate tone to his words as he tapped on the door. I heard it wiggle beneath his weight, suggesting he had sat against it. No dream and wine then, huh?
“Go away.”
“No.” His voice remained soft, even patient despite my obnoxious, ungrateful demand.
“Do it. Please. Go away.”
“Or what?” Good question. I can’t call the police. I don’t have any friends. Or what? Or…I’m at a loss here, buddy. I held my knees against my chest, hoping the pressure would calm my frantic heart. Did someone just break into my house and almost kill me?
I stood, resenting his words. He had no right to force me, even if he saved my life again. With a trembling hand, I balanced myself against the tub and shook off my nerves. I reached for the doorknob and slowly turned it to reveal Julian sitting against the doorframe. I startled him. It was sort of funny, but only because I was so drunk. He’s kind of cute in a t-shirt. No! This guy had someone watching you. This is not good. But…look at those muscles.
“Thank you for saving my life.” The words tumbled before a thought preceded them. “Again. But I need you to go.”
The air was heavy as gravity consumed my drunken state. I needed to lie down and sleep it off before I acknowledged the facts of what happened. I like his forearms. Julian straightened against the doorframe, his hands pressing on the wood to cage me in beneath his towering figure. His tongue slowly darted out, licking his lips while his eyes examined me like I was a morbid exhibit in some museum of the damned. It was pathetic, really, but I froze beneath his curious stare. His eyes were inquisitive, but his mouth remained mute.
“Please.” I pushed past him, wobbling beneath his strapping arm toward my freedom. Ha. Freedom. Julian stood with his back to me, but I heard the heavy sigh leave his precious mouth, and it took all my strength to fight the drunken urge to run over and acknowledge our panic, our mutual fright, and touch him. Kiss him. Hold him. Be held by him. I don’t know.
I fell onto the edge of my bed, still trembling. Lifting my head, my senses heightened with the smell and sounds of Julian’s company, I watched as he released the doorframe and spun around, feet from my apartment door. I knew I was a mess. I knew I was disheveled and atrocious, but he continued to watch me with a bizarrely gentle curiosity. However, it was his final words that pierced those thoughts with a rusty, tetanus-laced blade.
“Don’t drink alone, Aideen. It’s tragic,” he snapped, reaching for the doorknob. “We’ll be in touch.” And…screw you, Molloy.