Julian
EVERYONE’S MOVED TO the living room, where Carter, Tori, Eva, and Bianca are playing poker. Beside me on the couch, Carter’s dad describes the grill he’s planning to buy. He even pulls out his phone to show me the model. Titillating stuff.
Lydia and her mother are in a corner chatting, their heads close together. I wouldn’t at all be surprised if they were devising another plan to insult people. They do it to mask their own feelings of inadequacy, and anyone who isn’t Ashley can see it. But she’s probably been their target so often she’s given up on trying to understand their motives. I want to go to her, but I want to give her space, too.
“There are a couple of options,” Randall says as he points to his phone. “See here, this one has a warming rack, but with this one, I can add on a pizza oven. What do you think? Which would you choose?”
“That’s great. Should produce excellent meats.”
Randall chuckles.
“What?” I ask, turning my head to look at him.
“You’re not paying attention, Son. I asked your opinion on—”
Susan calls me to the kitchen before Randall swipes left again, and I jump up to answer her call. “Excuse me, I’m being summoned.”
When I enter, Ashley’s mother motions for me to join her at the table.
I drop onto a chair. “What can I do for you? Need help in here?”
She brings a coffee mug to her lips and takes a sip before she speaks, her eyes never straying from mine. “You’re not having a good time, and I know why.”
I laugh off her comment, unsure where she’s headed with the observation but sufficiently aware of her skills at uncovering feelings I prefer to keep hidden. “I’m enjoying myself just fine. Don’t worry about me.”
With only the top of her face visible over the cup’s brim, she says, “I’m not worried about you. I’m worried about her. And you are, too.”
I exhale and squint at her. “It’s that obvious?”
“Maybe not to them, but it is to me. I spent a year trying to crack your shell, remember?”
She’s right about that. I came to Weston reluctantly, resentful that my parents had shipped me to boarding school supposedly to broaden my horizons and expand my educational opportunities. Ms. Susan, as I called her then, counseled day school students, but she also served as my host mother, the person entrusted to watch over me while I was away from home. I moped around when I came to visit, and Carter, who was two years my junior, was a pain in the ass who was goofy as hell and wanted me to be the older brother he never had. I wasn’t down with it, until a classmate tried to bully him and my protective instincts kicked in. Slowly, I let the family in, and they’ve become a permanent part of my life.
“I remember.” I grab the back of my neck and raise my face to the ceiling. Ah, who am I kidding? I need to know she’s okay. I stand abruptly. “I’m going to check on her.”
She gives me a full-blown smile. “I was hoping you would.”
I creep from the kitchen to the short hall leading to the front door, but my attempt to leave undetected is thwarted when I collide with Lydia.
“Oh,” she says. “Leaving so soon?”
The best I can come up with is to yawn and stretch my arms wide. Hey, acting isn’t my strong suit, and I never claimed otherwise. “I’m beat. Going to head to bed early.”
She wrings her hands in front of her, opening and closing her mouth a few times. Finally, she drums up the courage to speak. “I liked you, too. She knew that. I just . . . I just wanted you to know.”
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to make of this revelation. Does she want me to think Ash betrayed her by dating me? Is she suggesting that I should be with her instead? Why does she think it’s even remotely appropriate to corner her cousin’s boyfriend and undermine her in this way? “Ashley might not see what’s going on yet, but I do. You’re jealous of her, aren’t you?”
With a hand on her chest, she scoffs at me. “That’s absurd. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Actually, I know exactly what I’m talking about. Sure, you pretend it’s about your years-old crush on me, but it’s more basic than that, isn’t it? You envy the way she lives her life. The way she makes friends so easily. Her decision to leave Harmon and immerse herself in different experiences. The way she refuses to tie herself down simply to check off a box based on other people’s definitions of success. You want that for yourself.”
She scrunches her face, pretending there’s no basis for my observations. “I don’t envy Ashley in the least. I think your feelings for her are clouding your judgment.” After an exaggerated flip of her hair, she storms off.
I chuckle as I watch her go. She’s growing older, sure, but she’s definitely not growing up. I’ll give Lydia this, though: She unwittingly stumbled on a fact I can no longer deny. My feelings for Ashley are clouding my judgment—and I don’t think that’s going to change anytime soon.
MY PRETEND GIRLFRIEND is asleep by the time I enter the bedroom. Only the top of her head and several long strands of her hair poke out of the cocoon she’s created with the comforter. Frankly, I’m relieved. The prospect of sharing a bed with her while suppressing our mutual attraction makes me consider sleeping in the tub. But I’m too tall for that, and now that she’s snoring lightly, I can slip under the covers without the awkwardness we’d experience if we both were awake.
I grab my toiletry bag and dip into the bathroom. After a quick shower and edge trim, I brush my teeth and hit the light switch. I’m wearing a T-shirt and long pajama bottoms because anything less would be weird.
Ashley’s snoring loudly now, and the vibration in her throat makes her sound like a dog growling at a perceived threat. And her body is draped over 80 percent of the mattress. Maybe I should sleep on the floor. But after I fail to find any sheets or blankets in the closet, I climb into bed and settle on the slice of surface area she hasn’t commandeered. Whispering her name, I nudge her over with my arm and left leg.
Except she reacts wildly to my touch, and in the scramble to untangle herself from the comforter, she rolls over the edge of the mattress and hits the floor with a loud yelp.
“Fuck, Ash.” I jackknife off the bed and lean over. “You okay?”
She rubs her elbow. “Ow. What the hell happened?”
“Something spooked you in your sleep. Not sure what.” I’m going to hell for this lie. “Bad dream, maybe?”
She turns her head back and forth, trying to orient herself. Then she widens her eyes in horror. “Was I snoring?”
“Hell yes.”
She groans and lies back down on the floor. “This day needs a do-over.”
I flip my legs around and climb out. Then I step over her, placing my feet hip-width apart around her body, and hold out my arms. “C’mon, Ash. No more feeling sorry for yourself.”
She takes my proffered hands, and I haul her up.
Still grasping my hands, she squints up at me and asks, “Did I miss anything?”
“Nothing at all. It wasn’t the same without you.”
I’m stunned by how much I mean this. When she left, my enthusiasm for being there went with her; it’s as if she’s slowly taking pieces of me I’ll never get back. I drop my hands and put space between us. “Let’s get to bed. Tomorrow’s a new day.”
She nods absently, and then we both climb back into bed and settle under the covers.
The mattress dips as she turns on her side to face me, and I roll over to meet her gaze. Her dark brown hair fans out on the pillow, begging for my touch, but I wedge both hands under my face to avoid doing something stupid.
“Thanks for today,” she whispers.
She’s so beautiful, her face cast in shadows in the dimly lit room, and I do nothing but stare at her for a few seconds, until I realize I might be giving off creeper vibes. “You’re welcome. But I’m not sure I did all that much. And given how Lydia tried to corner me in the hall, I think you’re doing me the bigger favor here.”
She lifts her head off the pillow, her eyes narrowing on my face in an attempt to see my expression in the dark. “What happened?”
“Nothing, really. She just wanted me to know she had a crush on me a long time ago. I’m chalking it up to a need for closure.”
“For your sake, let’s hope so.” Without warning, she reaches out and traces a finger along one of my eyebrows. “I never noticed how defined your eyebrows are. Do you wax them?”
I’m thrown by the change in subject. But also, does she expect me to put sentences together when she’s touching me? Needing an excuse to put space between us, I pretend to be offended and draw back. “That’s insulting. No, I don’t groom them. This is nature at its finest.”
She smiles into the pillow, exposing the curve of her neck, and I draw on every ounce of my willpower to refrain from leaning over and kissing her there.
“For years,” she says, “I wondered if you had a sense of humor. Now I know you do.”
“Let’s keep that a secret between us. My rep as a no-nonsense agent would be ruined.”
She snuggles into the pillow and rests her cheek against it, the playful glint in her eyes sobering. “Do you enjoy what you do?”
If I wanted a reminder why a relationship with Ashley wouldn’t work, this is it. I can’t answer her truthfully, not without revealing my lack of enthusiasm for a career that directly affects her brother’s livelihood. Would she share my confidences with him? Inadvertently, even? Still, I’ll admit I’m tempted, for the simple reason that I’d like to talk to her about this. I can’t ask my father for advice. He’s permanently poised to tell me I told you so. And as much as I like Sooyin, she’s a colleague, too, so speaking with her about my discontent wouldn’t be wise.
Ashley reaches out and guides my chin so that I’m forced to meet her gaze. “Hey. I’m a good listener, and nothing you say will go beyond this room.”
There’s no judgment in her eyes, only affection, and her assurance is exactly what I need to hear. “Sometimes I wonder how I got to this point. One day, Carter asked me to look over his records because he was worried his agent was skimming him. The next thing I know, I’m interviewing for a position as an agent intern in LA. The rest, as they say, is history. I’m not sure I thought it through in the way I should have.”
“What would you have done otherwise?”
“Worked with my father. He’d been angling for me to help him run the business since I left home to attend Weston. That was the plan, and to this day, he has no problem reminding me that I didn’t follow it. We have a great relationship otherwise, but I hurt him when I chose to work with Carter.”
“But what about the work? Apart from what you do for Carter? Is that fulfilling?”
“To be honest, not all that much. I mean, I love it when my clients fulfill their dreams. Knowing they’ve found their passions is inspiring, but sometimes it reminds me that I’m lacking my own passion, a sense that I’m making a difference somehow. That’s when I can practically hear my father telling me I’d regret being an agent, that I need to focus on making my own dreams. Other times, I want to kick myself for being greedy, for wanting more than I already have. So what if I barely have a personal life to speak of? What does it matter that I work long hours? This is the path I chose, and for the most part I’ve been successful at it, so shouldn’t I just suck it up?”
She places a hand on my cheek, stroking my skin, and I can’t help leaning into her touch. “Your career path isn’t etched in stone, though. You have time to adjust, time to figure out what makes you happy. That’s what I tell myself, at least.”
I could tell her that figuring out what makes you happy is pointless if you don’t do anything about it, but I don’t want to make her defensive. Despite what she told everyone at dinner, I know Ashley has a dream, a goal potent enough to get her out of bed every morning. But she’s afraid to go after it, scared that she’ll fail. That’s a discussion for another day, though, so I simply say, “Thanks for listening.”
“Anytime.”
She stares at me, her hand lingering on my face. I tilt my head, chasing the softness of her touch, and in a moment of weakness, I brush my lips against her fingers. Her small intake of breath roars like a strong gust of wind in the small room. We both nudge our bodies forward, until we’re less than an inch apart, sharing the same air and panting like there’s not enough of it to sustain us both.
God, I want to just let go and give in so badly I’m investing all my energy in trying to suppress this feeling. I groan for the both of us. “We shouldn’t.”
“I know,” she says, her body arching in frustration.
“But I want to.”
I’m not sure what’s possessing me to be honest. It doesn’t help the situation at all.
She falls on her back and stares at the ceiling, while I remain on my side and stare at the rapid rise and fall of her chest. I envision myself covering her naked body with mine, rolling my hips against her soft thighs, digging my hands into her ass and sliding my cock inside her until the fullness makes her gasp.
She squeezes her eyes shut, as though she’s in physical pain. “It’s nice to know I’m not the only one feeling this way.”
“You’re not, I assure you.”
Again, Julian. What the fuck? Close your mouth and go to sleep.
“Good night, Ash.”
“Good night.”
She turns on her side, leaving me staring at her back.
And wanting her.