Four.
Juliet Nichols
Love Notes Photography
– images that speak louder than words.
I turned the thick ivory card over in my hands one more time. I just barely remembered her giving it to me as she was leaving last week, when she was done with her pictures. I was still with a client, so I’d dropped it in the little box where I put all the other business cards people gave me and forgot about it. But now, as I was getting ready to clean up my station for the night, something had drawn my attention back to that box – back to her card.
Somehow, even with all the other scents happening in the shop, even though it had been mixed in with all the others, it still carried her pleasant aroma as I raised the card to examine the fine detail of the rose gold foil edging. Clean, spicy… sweet.
Losing your damn mind boy.
I chuckled to myself as I left the shop, going the opposite direction of my usual route home. Tiredness laid heavy on my shoulders after a busy day in the shop, but the commitment I’d made for tonight superseded fatigue.
It would take a lot for me to miss this.
My journey down the sidewalk led me past the mixed development part of the neighborhood, into the pure residential area. Glass storefronts turned to historic apartment buildings, turned to brownstone townhomes – one of which was my destination.
I pulled my tired limbs up the steps, knowing that if nothing else, a hot meal was waiting on the other side of the door – something better than the plain ass chicken breast, rice, and broccoli I’d be eating if I was on my own for the night.
I pressed the doorbell and waited, a smile already building on my face when I heard the lock disengage. Based on experience, I was already expecting the ball of energy that launched at me as soon as the door opened, latching onto my legs for a hug. What I was not expecting was the horrified gaze of the ball-of-energy’s mother, a gaze that quickly morphed into an angry glare.
“What the hell is wrong with you people?!” Vivienne fussed, crossing her arms. “First Eddie, now you?” I held up my hands to defend myself, but she gave a tight shake of her head. “No, you do not speak,” she demanded, her French accent coming through thicker than usual in her anger. “I tell you this now – you better not give Carter any ideas, you understand?”
“Yes ma’am,” I said – obviously the wrong thing, because it didn’t soften her scowl. “I don’t think he’s interested in getting it cut though. He hasn’t said anything at least.”
“And he had better not,” she repeated.
My eyes got big. “Yo… you’re really mad at me?”
“I am mad as hell,” she confirmed, earning an “Ooooh!” from the ball of energy, better known as Bellamy, her and Carter’s daughter.
“That’s a bad word mommy, you said it twice!”
“And I am going to say it again if another one of these men cuts off his hair,” Viv fussed, paying Bell no mind as she ushered me inside, closing the door behind me.
Instead of staying under Viv’s wrath, I turned my attention to Bell, hefting her up in my arms. “You had school today?” I asked her, referring to the preschool classes Carter had been the one worried about, while Viv had been excited to get Bell acclimated to other kids.
“Yeah,” she nodded, her brown eyes growing big and round before she leaned in to whisper, “Abby said a bad word today too,” as I followed Viv to the dining room.
I put Bell down in one of the chairs that surrounded the table, leaning against it and crossing my arms. “Ah, man. What did she say?”
“She called Ms. Macy,” – she glanced around, to make sure Viv wasn’t watching – “Stupid. And she threw a block at her too!”
My whole face twisted up. “Well goddamn,” I mumbled under my breath, and then said aloud, to Viv in the kitchen, “Yo, what kinda hood establishment y’all got baby girl at?”
“Blakewood Academy is not a “hood establishment”,” Viv laughed as she came back into the room, carrying a large, covered dish that smelled familiar, and like the best thing to happen to me all day.
“What is that?” I asked, at the same time that Bellamy piped, “I love my school Uncle Troy!” and I had to clap a hand to my chest, staggered by what she’d just said. “Did she just…?”
Deep amusement colored Viv’s expression as she put the dish down on the table. “Yes, she did. She asked Carter about you the other night, and he explained that you were “like his little brother”. She said, “like Uncle Rod?”, he said “yes”, and this is how we arrive at Uncle Troy. And to answer your other question, it is coq au vin.”
I frowned. “That’s the… pork chops, with the herb—”
“It’s the chicken with the wi—”
“The chicken with the wine, yeah, that’s what I was saying. I know my French, Viv, you gotta let me prove myself sometimes.”
Her eyebrows went up. “Yes, of course. Set the table, Uncle Troy,” she instructed, leaving for the kitchen again.
This time I followed, recruiting Bellamy to help me as Viv finished loading up the table with all kinds of good smelling dishes that had my stomach rumbling in protest that it was still empty. Bell and I were headed back to the kitchen to see what else we could do to help when Viv’s giggles carried into the dining room – the kind of giggling a woman did when you were doing something you weren’t supposed to in front of company.
I held Bell back for a second, distracting her so Carter and Viv could have their little moment. A few seconds later, they both appeared at the door to the living room, Carter grinning, Viv with her cheeks flushed, setting off this uncomfortably familiar feeling in my chest. It only intensified when Bellamy shrieked over Carter’s presence, running to get swooped into kisses that made her giggle like a maniac.
Their whole little family, man… the shit was goals.
“Whassup’ dude?” Carter asked, approaching me with Bell still in his arms to dap me up. “My bad for not being out when you got here. Rolled out new software for a client, and shit is breaking left and right. Trying to put out fires,” he said – or tried to say, with Bell clamping a little hand over his mouth.
“Bad word, Daddy!” she fussed, her attempt at being stern completely negated by how adorable she was. Her scolding devolved into another round of giggles as Carter frowned at her and then playfully bit her hand.
For me, it was a blessing even getting to witness this scene with him and his family, because honestly, he had no obligation to kick it with me like this. At first, it had been weird to me, like “bruh, I just know you from the shop”. But he’d explained later that he saw himself in me, and after hearing his story, I understood. Our life experiences were mostly different, he related to me on a level that was foreign to even talk about. So instead of rejecting it, which had been my first nature, I just… chilled.
I didn’t grow up like this – Black ass family sitting down together for a meal, with plenty of food at the table. Carter’s little family had shown me that it wasn’t just something for TV, that for plenty of us, this was reality.
It just hadn’t been for me.
In the very beginning, through and past Bell’s age, it was cool – at least, from what I remember. It was after that, as I got older, that going from foster home to foster home started being more like survival of the fittest. It would be decent for a while, but then right back to bullshit, that yo-yo effect being so much that by the time I aged out, that street life that I’d been avoiding as a juvenile looked really good to me.
Too good.
But I was firmly past that now.
I had a good life, decent friends, nothing to really complain about, aside from the fact that as settled as I was – as settled as I appeared – it was still like I was drifting. Just floating along, existing without an anchor.
“Hey, you never told me how the photoshoot or whatever went,” Carter said as he lowered Bellamy to her place at the table, and then sat down himself. “I didn’t even know she’d come by until Russ mentioned it today.”
Shit.
I swallowed hard, then took my customary place across the table from Bell, as Viv took the seat across from Carter. “Uh, it went well. She seemed to be legit. Said she’d show us the pictures she was choosing before she posted them.”
“Good,” he nodded. “Russ was going on about her looking familiar to him. What was that about? You know her?”
Goddammit Russ.
“Nah. I mean… technically. I didn’t know until she came in, but she was um… she was the girl I told you about.”
He frowned. “What girl you told me about?”
“Yes, Troy?” Viv asked, her eyes bright with interest. “What girl? And what photo shoot? Are you a model now?”
I chuckled, trying my best to play off how completely uncomfortable I was, which was exactly why I hadn’t brought it up again with Carter. I’d hoped beyond hope that he would simply forget, which was unlikely, but maybe without the reminder, it would’ve taken so long that I was well past the immediate stress of it.
“Nah,” I told Viv. “There’s a new business across the street from us –”
“Yes!” Viv exclaimed. “Love Notes, the photography studio. I met the owner, Juliet today. Such an enchanting, beautiful girl.”
Tell me about it.
“Yeah, uh… she came and took some shots at the shop, for a photo series.”
“Oh how cool! Why didn’t you tell me about that?” she asked Carter, who’d already started dishing food onto his and Bellamy’s plates.
He shrugged, and then around a mouthful of chicken said, “That’s Troy’s business baby. He’s the manager, I just own the place. You said you told me about her though?” his attention shifted back to me, unfortunately. “What did you tell me?”
“Remember, the day you did my cut?” I asked, trying to jog his memory without walking him through it step by step as he handed me a dish to serve myself.
That seemed to do it though, because his eyes went wide. “Oh,” he said. “I’ll be damned.”
“Language, Carter,” Viv admonished, then looked to me before spooning potatoes onto Bellamy’s plate, and then her own. “What about her, Troy? Would you like me to put in a good word for you?”
“Oh he’s already well acquainted with her,” Carter laughed, and I groaned. Pretty much as expected, Viv’s casual gaze turned to laser-sharp focus.
“Troy, please,” she said, reaching to grab my wrist. “This girl, Juliet. She is a vivid, bold spirit. Do not spark a fire you have no intention to stoke. You understand?”
Better than you know.
“I do,” I told her, nodding. “I’m… just out here trying to be good.”
“Can Uncle Troy have one of my bunny stickers daddy?”
“Of course baby, after dinner.”
Luckily for me, her simple question distracted from the topic – one I didn’t care to explore any further anyway. Not because I minded talking to Carter – or even Viv – about it, but because I was still unsettled, and her appearance at the shop hadn’t helped matters, at all.
We started talking about other things, and eventually our plates dwindled down to empty. Viv noticed that Carter had started getting antsy, anxious to check on his computer, so she sent him to his office, then stood to start gathering the plates.
“Let me help you with that,” I offered, standing up too, only to be met with a stiff side-eye.
“Do we have to go through this every time? I don’t want you in my kitchen. Occupy Bell for me, please.”
I chuckled. “Can do.”
Despite Viv’s protest, Bell and I did at least help clear the table, and then she ushered me into the living room and put the remote in my hand, demanding that I turn the TV on. She walked me through getting to the specific show she wanted to see on Netflix, some blue-haired little girl with a talking cat, then curled up against my side to watch.
And watch, I did.
I let her have my full attention as she explained the “fishy-poof” crackers that Bartelby (the talking cat) loved, how True (the little girl), went to see her purple-haired Asian friend Zee at the Wishing Tree, and used the wishes she got from there to solve problems all around the Rainbow Kingdom. I was listening to her, sure, but more than that, I was thinking about the adoration I had for her, and wondering how different it was for her parents, since she was… theirs.
I vividly remembered coming to see her when they brought her home from the hospital. Sure, she was cute, all that, but what really struck me was the way they looked at her. Like she was the best thing they’d ever seen, like they’d do anything to keep her from harm. She was their everything. Beyond important. A priority.
It confused me.
I didn’t understand, if that love between parent and child was so immediate and clear, how it came to be that I ended up alone. No connections, no anchor, just… drifting.
A pain that Bell would never have to know.
Suddenly realizing that she wasn’t talking anymore, I looked down to see that she’d fallen asleep against my side. I chuckled a bit as I turned the TV off and carried her to her room, tucking her under the covers before I went back to the kitchen to find Viv wiping down the counters.
“The lil’ homey passed out,” I told her, shrugging when she looked up, surprised.
“Already, really?”
I nodded. “Yep. I put her in her bed. And since you seem to be done in here, I’m going to head out.”
“Okay ami,” she said, dropping the towel to cross the kitchen to give me a hug, and plant a kiss on the side of my face. When she stepped back though, she swayed a bit, so much that I grabbed her arms to steady her as her eyes drifted closed.
“Yo, Viv?” I asked, concerned, even as she tried to wave it off. “Are you okay?”
She rolled her eyes. “I am fine, Troy. I have just overdone it a bit today, that is all. Don’t you start too. The only reason Carter is not all over me is because his software is having a meltdown.”
“What do you mean, “don’t you start too”? What’s going on?”
Her eyebrows went up, and she brushed the shorter side of her bob behind her ear as she sat down. “Ah… he hasn’t told you?”
“Who hasn’t told me what?”
She chuckled to herself. “I am not surprised. He has been paranoid, hovering. Anxious for that first trimester to be over.”
“First tri—you’re pregnant?!” I asked, and her face broke into a huge grin as she nodded.
“Yes, but I think he is keeping it quiet. Worried about loss. We have not said anything to Bellamy yet either. But, if all goes well, she will have a baby brother or sister in about seven months.”
“Man… congratulations,” I told her, kneeling to give her a hug. “And I won’t say anything to Carter yet, since he was trying to hold out.”
“That would be appreciated,” she laughed. “You be safe getting home okay?”
“Always,” I said, then tossed up a hand as a parting gesture before I headed out.
I had a ton of questions that were none of my damn business.
Had they been trying to get pregnant? How had they found out? What was her initial reaction? What was his? I wanted to know all of it, every little thing, because all of it was so damned foreign to me. But I couldn’t be out here looking like a creep.
Carter would talk to me about it, eventually. And he knew what I was on, what I’d been on since last year, so I doubted he would mind answering a few things for me. We weren’t close enough yet that we talked about the pregnancy with Bellamy. Honestly, I couldn’t have even articulated my interest back then, didn’t know how to explain my aching curiosity about the intricacies of being part of a family.
Little did I know, there wasn’t a need to explain. He already understood.
“Hey, whassup’, hello?”
I frowned a little, then turned around, backtracking down the hall that led to the front of the barbershop. My eyes got wide at the sight of Juliet standing just inside the door, looking a little uncertain until she saw me. Then, a smile spread across her face.
Those dimples are gonna kill me.
“Ah, I thought I saw you, a few minutes ago. I was hoping to catch you before you left,” she said, striding toward me with one hand gripping the strap of a laptop bag strung across her bare shoulders. It had been a warm day, and she was taking advantage, in a strapless dress covered in oversized flowers, made of some type of gauzy material that hit her mid-thigh.
“I was just headed to turn off the lights,” I told her. “So… consider me caught, I guess. What’s up?”
Somehow, her smile got even bigger. “Pictures. Remember, I told you I would show you what I was planning to publish, once I got them narrowed down? But if you’re busy, I can—”
“Nah, you’re good,” I assured her. “I have time for that. Let me just get the door,” I said, easing past in the direction she’d come, to make sure I didn’t have any other surprise pop-ups. But as I was turning the lock, something occurred to me, and I turned back. “You’re cool with that? Me locking this door?”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh! Uh, yeah, it’s fine. I appreciate that you considered that.”
I shrugged. “Common courtesy.”
She shook her head as I headed back toward her, ready to lead the way to the office. “No, not really these days.” Her expression shifted to a little smirk as I stopped in front of her. “Anyway, you don’t give me creepy vibes, so I’m not uncomfortable. And besides that… you don’t want no problems with me, barber man.”
“Man, chill with that, Juliet,” I laughed, putting a little extra inflection on her name, now that I had it. “You’re way too cute to be tough.”
She let her mouth drop open, feigning offense. “Excuse you, I’ll have you know that I am very tough.”
“Yeah, you look it, with your florals, and your dimples, and your…”
She crossed her arms. “My what?”
Pretty ass big brown eyes. Massive sex appeal. Hard nipples through the thin fabric of that dress.
“Nothing. You gonna show me the pictures?”
She shrugged. “Sure. Lead the way.”
I was hyper-aware of her as she followed me to the back. From her body heat to her scent to just her simple presence, she had me on edge in a way that I’d never experienced.
The awkward shit had never been me – not until I decided to set my life on a different track. And really… I couldn’t even blame it on that, because I’d still never found myself having difficulty interacting with women.
What I was experiencing now was… unique to Juliet.
Inside the office, I went to the desk to sit down, expecting her to take the seat on the other side. Instead, she came around to my side, casually removing the bag from her shoulder to remove her laptop. She set it up in the space where I would normally have mine, and turned the screen on, pulling up the pictures. When she was done, she took a seat on top of the desk, right by the computer, and then gestured toward the screen with a flourish.
“For your viewing pleasure, I present: Home: The Barbershop.”
I rolled my chair closer, willing myself not to get distracted by the exposed skin of her crossed legs, focusing my attention on the screen. The pictures were dope as hell. Vivid colors, sharp quality, and they were actually interesting. The old heads would get a kick out of seeing themselves like this, the younger ones would want to flex on social media, and I… was just in awe that a picture could so perfectly capture the vibe that surrounded me on a day to day basis, down to a picture of Storm perched beside a glass canister of Barbasol, looking downright regal.
But for some reason… Juliet was nervous.
Not that nervous was something I’d ever expect a girl like her to put on display, but it was clear. Her hands were gripping the side of the desk too tight, she was about to wear a damn hole in her lip, and her eyes hadn’t left my face since I looked at the screen. She was searching for a reaction.
“These are cool,” I told her, my tone completely nonchalant as I kept scrolling through the pictures.
She went stiff, shoulders high with tension. “They’re cool?”
I nodded, stopping at the final shot. One of me showing every one of my teeth as I pulled the clippers away from my client to laugh at something. There had been so many jokes in the shop that day – hell, so many jokes since then – that I had no idea why I was laughing so hard, but the picture was so vibrant that I could damn near hear it.
“Yeah. Like… they’re… aiight. You’re decent with the camera.”
Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head, and it took everything in me not laugh as her jaw tightened, and she spoke through clenched teeth. “Aiight? Decent? Are you—”
“Just messing with you? Yes,” I chuckled. “I need you to not pop a blood vessel in here mama, your shit is nice, okay? Very nice. Brilliant, honestly.”
Her chin was way too high, still ready to go on the defensive when she asked, “Really?”
“Yes, really,” I said, making the big fucking mistake of reaching out, putting my hand on her knee in a gesture intended to comfort. My hand landed where intended, but I definitely didn’t need a reminder about the softness of her skin, that simple touch enough to have me growing tight in my boxers like a damn high school kid. “My bad for messing with you like that,” I said, pushing those thoughts away. “I forgot about you artists being sensitive and all that.”
“Oh please,” she pouted. “Let somebody tell you one of your lil’ haircuts is aiight, you’ll be ready to fight.”
“Damn right, square up,” I joked, bringing a smile back to her face as she laughed. “Seriously though, these are great. I’ll have to run it by Carter first, but we might have to hit you up for some framed prints to hang in here, if that’s something you could offer.”
“I could definitely do that, just let me know.” Her eyes were bright with excitement and… pure joy. Total opposite of not even two minutes ago. “I’m really glad that you like them enough to even consider something like that. But… I guess you could just be gassing me up because I’m cute.”
I shook my head as I sat back in my chair. “Nah. You’re not that cute.”
“I am though,” she insisted, knowing she was absolutely right. I would’ve had a hard time saying it if I didn’t like the pictures, and would’ve had to find a creative way to play this shit off. Luckily for me, the images were honestly really good.
Still, I kept the back and forth going with a little shrug. “Maybe.”
“Oh definitely.” Her lips spread into a grin as she hooked her foot through the arm of my wheeled office chair, using it to pull me towards her. “In fact… I bet I’m just cute enough for you to indulge me touching your hair.”
“Touch my hair?” I questioned, frowning. “Why? I thought y’all only wanted to do that when it was the silky curly shit?” I teased. “Oh, and I got plenty of pulls on my locs.”
“Who is “y’all”?” she asked as she leaned in, sinking her fingers into my thick kinks. “I love this. And you smell good,” she moaned as she leaned in further, putting her breasts right at eye level as she took a deep inhale, the pads of her fingers grazing my scalp.
I couldn’t lie… this was a good ass moment for me, and I wasn’t particularly inclined to put a stop to it, even once her hands moved from my head to my beard. I was getting ready to close my eyes when she cupped my face, meeting me with a gaze that… said something I couldn’t catch.
“This isn’t really what I imagined when you asked to touch my hair – which, I didn’t agree to by the way,” I told her, making her grin.
“Your eyes did,” she said, then finally leaned back, returning her hands to clutch the desk for a different reason than before. “You mad?”
“Not at all. Just thinking that we kinda suck at that whole “steering clear of each other” thing. Pretty sure this qualifies as a head-on collision.”
She flipped her hair over her shoulder and then bit her lip, looking so damned sexy I considered snatching her off the desk, pulling her into my lap. “Steering clear of each other?” she asked, her faux innocence just making me want her more. “Who said that? I said that?”
“We said that, remember?” I asked, already knowing damn well that she did.
“I remember you telling me that I seemed like trouble, and I remember thinking that real recognize real. That’s what I remember.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m not trouble though. Not… anymore.”
“Okay, cause I was gonna say, there’s no way you look like you do without having handed out a few headaches and heartaches.”
“I’ll cop to that,” I admitted, raising my hands. “But, past is the past.”
“So you’re what, in hoe rehab now?”
A shout of laughter burst from deep in my chest before I could help it, and I clapped a hand over my heart. “Uh… I guess you could put it like that.”
“In that case,” she said, getting down from the desk, and closing the top of her computer before she picked it up. “It’s probably time for me to leave.”
“Why?” I asked, immediately hopping up too. I was enjoying her company too much for it to be over this soon.
“Because.” She returned the laptop to her bag, and then pulled it over her head before she turned to face me, clear lust in her eyes as she met my gaze. “I’m not particularly inclined to… help you avoid a relapse, if you know what I mean.”
Did I ever.
“Your thoughtfulness is appreciated.”
She smirked. “Yeah. And I mean… to be honest, I’m supposed to be staying out of trouble myself, so it’s probably good for both of us, you know?” she asked, with a little sigh as she lifted her hands, pressing them to my chest
“Yeah,” I nodded, grabbing her wrists, but not moving them. “But… what if I told you I like being around you, and I think you like it too?”
That smirk spread into a grin. “Then I would tell you that’s exactly how addictions work.”
I bowed a little, conceding to her point as I finally pulled her hands down, keeping one in mine to pull her from the office. “I’ll walk you out.”
We spent that short walk in silence, but after I’d unlocked the door, she turned to me with clear curiosity on her face. “Hey… the cat. What’s her story? Is she yours?”
“You could say that,” I chuckled. “But she usually stays at the shop. Only occasionally follows me home.”
“What’s her name?”
“Storm.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Like Ororo?”
“Like a thunderstorm,” I corrected. “I found her hiding under the dumpster out back, wet and terrified. Felt bad, so I brought her in, fed her… you know the rest.”
She laughed. “Yeah, I do. Never feed a stray.”
“Right. And just my luck, she’s got the nerve to be a goddamn diva.”
“I’m pretty sure all cats are divas,” she giggled. “But at least she’s beautiful. Very photogenic.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, maybe for you. Every picture I’ve tried to take of her… looks like a man taking a picture of a cat with his cell phone,” I chuckled. “Maybe you’ll have to teach me something one of these days.”
“I can teach you something this day,” she said. “You have your phone with you?”
I pulled it from my pocket, and held it up. “Always.”
“Cool. Take a picture of me.”
“Like… right now?”
Her eyebrow went up. “Uh, yeah? Take the picture, bruh!”
“I’m taking it, I’m taking it,” I said, opening the camera app to do exactly that, framing her in the middle of the screen before I tapped the shutter button. “See? Look?”
She moved to stand beside me, peeking over at the screen. “Okay. Let me see. First things first…” she said, turning the phone over, “Is this big fingerprint over your lens,” she laughed. “A lot of people don’t even think about it, but that’s problem number one.” She grabbed the hem of my tee shirt, pulling it up to clean the lens. “And then… you’re using the automatic mode. Most phones these days have pretty decent cameras, with a “pro” setting. So, if we switch you to that, and adjust your exposure a bit here, and fix your white balance, and put it on auto-focus, since you may not be quite ready for manual yet… okay. There we go.” She handed the phone to me, and then moved back to where she’d been before. “Take another one.”
Again, I framed her in the middle of the screen, and tapped the button. As soon as it had made the little shutter sound, she moved next to me again.
“Now, go to your gallery, and… look! See the difference?”
“Damn,” I muttered. Just those few little things made all the difference in the world, turning a decent picture of her into one that was—
“I look cuuute! Send it to me,” she demanded. “Here, go ahead and hit the little button, to share.”
“Hold on a second, pushy ass.”
She wrinkled her nose at me, pressing into my side. “Just send me the picture, okay?”
“Tell me the number.”
She rattled it off and then grinned, stepping away to pull out her own phone, from her laptop bag. “Got it! Thank you. And, you’re welcome for the little mini-lesson. Now you can take decent pictures of your lunch for Twitter, post your lil’ haircuts on Instagram, get some ussies with your family, all that.” She stopped talking to narrow her eyes. “Wait… what is it? Did I say something wrong?”
I frowned. “Huh?”
“Just now, when I was talking. Your face kinda squinted up for a second, like you got stung by a bee or something.”
It did?
“Oh, shit… I… I didn’t realize I did that, my bad.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s my bad. What did I say?”
I lifted a hand to scratch my beard, trying to figure out how to answer this question.
“Troy…” She grabbed my free hand, stepping closer and squeezing, eyes filled with concern. “What is it?”
“Nothing really,” I told her. “I mean… I don’t really have a family like what you were talking about. I grew up in foster care, so I never… never really knew my people or anything like that.”
Her lips parted for a few seconds before she actually spoke. “Oh. I… I’m sorry for bringing it up like that. I didn’t know.”
“I know that. Despite whatever alien shit you say my face did, I’m not really tripping on it.”
At least not with you.
“And anyway,” I continued. “It gives me something in common with Storm, I guess. Probably what made me help her out anyway. She’s a stray, I’m a stray. We match.”
Juliet’s grip on my hand tightened, and she let out a sound that was somewhere between a moan, a sigh, and a whimper. “Okay, so… yeah I gotta go now, especially with that.”
“Wait a minute, what?” I asked, grabbing her hand after she’d released me. “What are you talking about?”
She sighed, and shook her head. “Seriously? Big tall sexy man who owns a cat that he rescued during a thunderstorm because he saw himself in it? My panties are melting off right now. I gotta go,” she said, completely serious as she pulled her hand from mine. “I’ll see you around, Troy.”
“I’ll look forward to it, Juliet,” I told her as she pushed open the door.
She turned, barely suppressing a smile. “You can call me Jules.”
I nodded. “Alright then. I’ll look forward to it, Jules.”
With one last smile, she was out the door, and I locked it behind her. Only because it was still relatively early – just after eight at night – did I hold back my urge to offer to walk her home. This was my chance to exercise some self-control, and I was taking it.
It was also my chance to go back to that picture of her.
Damnit Troy. Does this girl really already have your mind gone?