Love [Literally] Read online

  Love (Literally)

  Book 2 in the Julian Series

  by Maria Monroe

  Also by Maria Monroe

  Julian & Lia (Book 1 in the Julian Series)

  The Rescue

  TV Night / Leather (short stories)

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, dialogue, and actions, with the exception of famous literary quotes, are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is completely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 by Maria Monroe

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Design by Jason Maxham

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  DELETED SCENE

  A MESSAGE FROM MARIA

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER ONE

  The frigid January air swirls around my ankles, but today even the bleak and relentless Chicago cold feels exotic. I pull open the Starbucks door, and a rush of heat and the scent of roasted coffee hits me, brightening my morning even more. It's the first day of my first real post-college job, working for one of the two biggest media corporations in the city—a dream job, the reach-application I sent out never thinking I had a chance. My hands are literally shaking with excitement and nerves as I use my phone app to pay for my skinny vanilla latte and head to the throng of people waiting for their drinks.

  Starbucks is packed, and I'm momentarily nostalgic for Sal's diner where I used to get coffee in college, before I graduated half a semester early and moved back to Chicago. I wiggle my half-frozen toes, which are crammed into a pair of Jimmy Choo heels, slightly used, that my college roommate Greer gave me as an early graduation present. They’re definitely the most expensive shoes I’ve ever owned, but right now they’re doing absolutely nothing to keep my feet warm. I might as well be barefoot. I notice that everyone else is shamelessly wearing winter boots, no doubt planning to change at the office, and I make a mental note to do the same tomorrow. Warm feet will definitely be better than looking fashionable

  Still I have to admit that I love dressing up for work, love taking the train and emerging from the subway up into the loud and busy streets. It makes me feel important and, for the first time ever, like a real, full-fledged grown-up.

  The front door opens, a blast of cold air from outside bites at my stockinged legs, and I shiver and glance over, as excited by all the busy people downtown as I am by the tall buildings and bustling atmosphere.

  My heart stops. Or feels like it does, at least. Because Julian, my Julian, just walked through the door.

  I haven't laid eyes on him in over two and a half years, haven't seen so much as a photo since then, and here he is, brushing the light powder of freshly fallen snow off the shoulders of his long wool coat. He undoes the buttons, revealing a deep gray silk tie over a crisp white dress shirt that's tucked into a slim pair of black pants. A thin silver-buckled black belt lies flat against his lean body. But it's his face I can't look away from, freshly shaven and smooth, so unlike the scruffy Julian I knew in college. His cheeks are slightly flushed from the cold air outside, and his dark brown hair is just long enough that it's starting to curl, just long enough to have that sexy messy look to it. Full lips that I remember so well are frowning slightly as though he's irritated by something, and his jaw is strong, his face chiseled. And his eyes. Greener than I remember them being.

  My pulse is going crazy, dizziness swirling through my head. I think I’m going to pass out. Seriously. Right here in the middle of a downtown Chicago Starbucks, somebody's going to have to call an ambulance because in a second I'm going to hit the floor, slightly wet from the remnants of snow people have dragged in on their boots.

  Pathetically, I duck down like a kid playing hide-and-seek, crouching behind the other people around me. I don’t even care that they probably all think I’m a weirdo, because my one and only goal right now is to ensure that Julian doesn’t notice me.

  I suck in a breath, trying to actually be the adult that, only moments ago, I was sure I’d become. I can do this. He's just a guy I used to date.

  Except he's not. He's so much more than that. He's Julian.

  "Grande skinny vanilla latte for Lia?" shouts out the barista, and suddenly I'm spurred into action. He can't see me. Not now. Not here. Not without me being properly prepared for this inevitable reunion. I knew he'd recently moved to Chicago too, but it's a big city, right? What were the chances that we'd run into each other? Especially on my very first day of work?

  Pushing my way past people and ignoring the grumbles of "Hey" and "Watch it!" I finally get to the other set of doors, opposite from those Julian just entered.

  "I'm looking for a Lia?" calls the barista. "I've got one hot skinny vanilla latte for you!"

  But I keep going, my only mission right now to get as far away from Julian Barnes as possible.

  I trip down the sidewalk, my stupid high heels slipping on stray patches of ice that the salt didn't quite melt, until I'm at least two blocks away. Only then do I stop to catch my breath, leaning against the side of a building. The white air I breathe out swirls and disappears like frail ghosts, and I watch the people hurrying past while I wait for my body to relax.

  Julian. With his dirty talk and experienced hands and ability to turn me on in seconds, just from a single word or glance. Julian. With those piercing green eyes and sharp wit. Julian. The love of my entire freaking life, who broke my heart.

  Correction: I broke my own heart. I can't stop the swell of memories in my head, the remembrance of the very last time I saw him. The look on his face, first of disbelief then of anger, when I told him I didn't love him, that I didn't want to be with him. In retrospect, it was probably the dumbest mistake of my life. But at the time I couldn't risk it, couldn't take the chance that if he gave up the best job offer he had for me, I'd be the very thing he'd eventually regret. So I lied. And it cost me my heart.

  My phone vibrating with a text interrupts my thoughts, and I reach into my coat pocket and pull it out.

  Good luck today! You got this! It's Vanessa. My best friend from college, who also happens to be Julian's twin sister.

  I don't even know what to text right now, but finally I decide upon Thanks! Things were going well until I saw him.

  Him? Who?

  Your brother.

  She doesn't respond right away, but a few seconds later my phone rings.

  "Lia, are you OK?" Vanessa's voice is breathless, and despite my heart still pounding from seeing Julian, I can't help smiling at hearing my friend's voice. I imagine her, probably wearing something straight out of the sixties, maybe her fringed jacket with the beads, her long hair falling straight and smooth down her back.

  "I think so. It was just such a shock."

  "I told you he was in Chicago, Lia," she says.

  "I know, Vanessa, but I didn't think…what are the chances, you know? There are what? Two million people in Chicago? Three million?" My voice is getting louder and louder, and I feel lucky that everyone around me is bundled up in hats and scarves and probably can't hear how crazy I sound.

  "Calm down, Lia," she says, her voice filled with concern.

  "I am calm!"

  "You sound a little hysterical," she says. "But it's OK. It’s going to be all right. What did he say to you? Was he surprised to see you too?"

  "I ran away," I confess in a small voice. "I saw him and hid? Behind some people? And then I ran away. I don't think he even saw me." My ungloved hands are freezing in the biting air, and
I momentarily blow on them in an insufficient attempt to warm them a little.

  "Oh Lia. It sucks this happened on your first day of work."

  "I know!"

  "You need to put it out of your mind for now, OK? Focus on your job, and how awesome and smart you are. You can worry about Julian later."

  Or never, I think. Because I was almost over him. Almost at the point where thinking about him didn’t make my heart physically hurt. "You're right," I say, but at the moment I'm not sure how possible it will be to think about anything other than him. After we broke up, I purposely put him out of my mind. Every time Vanessa tried to give me updates or information about him, I shut her down. I wanted to hear them, but it was a morbid curiosity; the mere mention of his name could send me into utter sadness for days, and finally I asked her to stop. I wanted to think about him less and less until he was just a distant memory of something good that once happened a long, long time ago.

  The only time she insisted on talking about him despite my protestations was a few weeks ago when she said I needed to hear something: that the company he worked for, World News Media, had transferred him from the New York to the Chicago office.

  "Look," she continues. "You are going to be a fucking rock star today, Lia, OK? You are so amazing, and everyone's going to love you!"

  "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and dog gone it, people like me?"

  "Yes! Exactly! Seriously, you are awesome, Lia."

  "Thanks for the daily affirmation," I grumble, but I'm smiling.

  "Call me tonight to let me know how everything goes."

  "I will," I promise.

  We say good bye and hang up. I take a deep breath and fall into step with the busy people heading down Michigan Avenue and huddled into their coats. Vanessa's right. Thinking about Julian right now is not what I need. Anyway, it's not like he's thinking about me right now. He's probably holding his coffee in one hand, talking on his phone with the other, and striding down the street, hurrying to work, with that stupid angry look on his face. His face, which I absolutely positively do not want to touch.

  As I push thoughts of him aside I start to get excited again. The truth is, I’m still shocked I even got this job. And when I see the building, its gigantic Triton Media sign on the cloud-high sky scraper, I can't stop the smile that beams from my face. This is it. I'm here.

  I stop for a second to savor the sight of the place I'm going to work, but when I glance at the building to the right, my heart nearly stops. Again.

  World News Media taunts me, the shiny mirrored letters bright against the gray sky. Well, crap. How did I not know World News Media, where Julian works, is directly next door to Triton Media? I somehow missed that when I came for my interview.

  I want to cry, but the tears would freeze on my face, and I don’t want to smear my makeup. So I force myself to laugh instead. I am over Julian. He's in my past. And it's funny, right, that he works right next door? A good story to tell people later?

  Lies. Big fat lies. And deep down inside I’m totally freaking out.

  The HR representative talks steadily as she leads me to the elevator banks and we ride the elevator up to the 16th floor, but I'm so lost in thought that it sounds sort of like the "mwah mwah mwah" the grownups all sound like in old Charlie Brown cartoons. She looks like she's straight out of MTV's The City, in a high-fashion business suit, her face dewy and glossy in flawless makeup and her heels at least four inches high. I have a feeling that smile is permanently botoxed onto her face, but she's really nice, and I appreciate her showing me around. Even her relentless talking is a welcome distraction, allowing me to focus on calming down from my earlier freak-out session without having to make too much small talk.

  "OK," she says when the doors open and we step out into a carpeted hallway, with big glass doors in front of us. "Let's make sure your key card works. You just hold it up to the sensor, and the door should click so you know it's unlocked."

  I do as she says, and sure enough, the doors click open.

  "Let me take you to your desk and introduce you to a few people before I leave you."

  I murmur my consent as I take in my surroundings. We're walking down a hallway, and all around us are cubicles arranged in sets of four, where people sit busy at their laptops, on their phones or, I notice, chit-chatting over cups of coffee. There are a variety of ages, and the dress code seems to range from business suits to jeans and T-shirts. With my new suit and high heels I'm definitely among the more dressy, but despite what people are wearing, I notice it's a ridiculously good looking group of people, like I've just stepped onto the set of a TV show.

  "The bathrooms are here," the HR rep is saying, gesturing at the usual Men and Women signs, "and there's a kitchen down that hallway. Coffee, tea, hot chocolate, water. The fridge is stocked daily with juice and soda, and there's always fresh fruit. Whatever's in season."

  Nice. The buzzing atmosphere is already exciting. Add in free fruit and soda? Even better. I feel my excitement returning, the shock over seeing Julian fading away. Just the way I want it to.

  I don't have much chance to wallow anyway, because we're heading down a side-hallway towards an area by the windows. There are four desks, two of them empty. The other two are occupied by a young man and woman, probably near my age in their early twenties, who've rolled their desk chairs to the middle of the area and are talking, heads close. When they see us, they look up and immediately stop whispering. Their smiles aren't quite genuine, like they're somewhat annoyed to have been interrupted. They roll their chairs back to what I guess are their respective desks.

  "Hi!" the HR rep says to them brightly. I feel sort of like a jerk that I can't remember her name. In fact, I sort of forgot it the second she said it. My only excuse is that I have a lot on my mind today, but I assume I probably won't be spending much time with her anyway, so I suppose it's not going to matter. "Michelle and Darren?" They nod. "This is Lia. She's starting today. Lia," she says to me, "you're all set with paperwork. Here's my card if you have any questions, and I've sent you an email with my information."

  I take the card from her and hold it in my only slightly sweaty hand.

  "So I'm going to leave you with Michelle and Darren. Let me know if you need anything!"

  "Thanks." I force a smile on my face. I sort of feel like she's pleasantly telling me she's about to feed me to some blood-thirsty sharks and good luck with that.

  "Welcome to Triton Media!" With that she's gone, disappearing down the hallway and leaving me alone with my new coworkers.

  I turn back to them and nod. "Hey," I say with a small wave. "I'm Lia. I mean, we were already introduced, but just in case you forgot . . ." Ugh. Super smooth, Lia. My voice trails off as any remnants of confidence I had abandon me.

  For a second they just stare at me, not smiling, and my heart sinks. Shit. They're going to be cliquey assholes who don't want anyone else to ruin their little friendship.

  The girl, Michelle, is gorgeous, tall and slim with long black hair that's twisted up into a bun, a glistening green chopstick-thing holding it in place. She's wearing a black pencil skirt with a green silk blouse, and her makeup is flawless and gorgeous, complete with smoky eyes and totally smooth skin. When I try to do smoky eyes on myself, I end up looking like somebody punched me in the face, so yes, it’s true I find her makeup skills impressive. Her lips are so perfectly shiny and red there's no way she's actually drinking from the coffee cup she's holding.

  Darren is tall and handsome, and though his outfit is way more casual than Michelle's, he's still able to pull off a totally suave image. He's wearing jeans and a white button-down shirt that contrasts beautifully with his brown skin. His black hair is cut close to his scalp, and he has the most amazing hazel eyes that, as he stares at me, I swear are changing color from blue to green to brown. I only wish he’d smile. Or one of them would.

  I stand still, my laptop bag cutting into my shoulder, and wonder what to do next. There we are, just the three of
us, nobody speaking. I'm surprised I don't hear crickets chirping, like in a show when there's that awkward silence. Then, suddenly, Darren steps forward and extends his hand. Thank god. He flashes me the most beautiful swoon-worthy smile ever.

  "I'm Darren. We're being assholes. I'm sorry." He gestures at Michelle, who's still not smiling. "We were actually just talking about you. Or not you specifically, since we didn't know anything about you. But we were discussing who the new person would be, the wonder kid, and whether she'd be a total bitch or not."

  "I voted yes." It's the first thing Michelle's said, and her voice is throaty and low. She sounds as sexy as she looks.

  "But she's not. Clearly." Darren gives Michelle a pointed look as he shakes my hand and gestures at the desk next to Michelle's. "You're over there."

  "Thanks." I set my laptop bag on the chair and rub my shoulder idly. I'm not sure why he's suddenly certain that I'm a nice person, but I'm glad they're not ignoring me or, worse, shooting me critical glances. It was starting to feel like my first week of freshman year at college all over again.

  "Nice to meet you." Now Michelle approaches me, and I shake her hand too. "Sorry. For thinking you were a bitch."

  "You think everyone's a bitch," says Darren.

  "I do not."

  "Yes. You do."

  Michelle cocks her head as if considering what Darren said. Then she nods. "I guess you're right. I do." She stares at me then, looking me up and down. "Your suit's nice. A little frumpy but nice classic lines. Your shoes are great, but kind of two-seasons ago."

  “Oh, my roommate…They’re not really…,” I stammer and blush, unable to form an actual sentence.

  "Seriously, Michelle?" Darren frowns at her. "Do you have to be so critical? Can't you let her get settled in before you unleash your true self?"

  "Is that like unleashing my inner demons? And why wait? Life's too short." She turns to me. "Sorry again. God, I hate apologizing." She mutters that last part, then sits dramatically in her desk chair and starts typing furiously at the keyboard.

  "Then stop being an asshole and it won't be a problem." Darren grins at me. "She's really nice once you get to know her," he says, as though Michelle's not even here anymore.