Julian & Lia Read online

  "Julian told me he walked you home from that party on our street the other night."

  I feel butterflies at the mention of Julian's name, and also at the fact that he brought it up with his sister. Was he thinking about me? Or was he just making conversation?

  "Yeah. He was really nice." But was he? It seemed like he was, until my room, when we kissed, and then he got mad . . . I don't want to dwell on it right now, though, not when I'm talking to his sister. So I push it out of my mind. "I wasn't having a great time, to be honest, and my roommate had set me up with this guy. And I wasn't into him."

  "Ugh. Being out with a guy you don't like is the worst. Did he try to make out with you? Was it awful?"

  "It was actually kind of awful," I confess almost gleefully. “He just started kissing me, and I wasn’t into it at all, but he had no clue whatsoever. It was really weird.” It's nice to be able to talk frankly about Joel. I feel like if I told Greer I'd been sort of grossed out by him, she'd think I was a weirdo prude or snob.

  “Guys are so clueless sometimes,” Vanessa says with a nod. “Get used to it, Lia.”

  “I don’t think it’s really going to be an issue.”

  “What do you mean?” Vanessa looks sharply at me.

  “Nothing. Just that I’m not exactly the kind of girl who has guys throwing themselves at her feet.”

  “Lia, you’ve got to stop being so self-deprecating! You’re pretty. And smart. And funny. I bet more guys check you out than you know.”

  “Whatever,” I mutter, but I can’t help smiling anyway. And I can’t help thinking about Julian and how he’s noticed me, at least enough to kiss me. Once.

  “No whatever! Am I going to have to sign you up for daily affirmation text messages?” She’s walking backwards in front of me laughing, the sound pure in the cold air. Her teasing grin makes me laugh.

  “If you do, I’ll sign you up for complimentary early morning wake-up calls.”

  “Oh yeah? Then you’ll start getting daily senior citizen sex tips texts,” she says with an evil grin.

  “Oh my god. Is that even a thing?” I’m giggling.

  “You’ll find out,” Vanessa laughs.

  But as we get closer to Vanessa and Julian's house, the joking around isn’t enough to stop my nerves from becoming more and more frayed. Will he be there? If he is, will he talk to me? What if he doesn't even look at me? I wouldn't put it past him to ignore me completely. But can I handle that?

  My stomach churns, and before I know it we're there, Vanessa opening the front door. I breathe in a sigh of relief, though there's some disappointment too, when I see the living room is empty and Julian's bedroom door is open. He's not home.

  Vanessa puts on some mindless Animal Planet show about a guy who wrestles wild creatures from people's homes, and we settle onto the couch. It feels good to be there, away from Greer and my dorm room for awhile. I'm dying to ask questions about Julian, but I don't want to seem obvious.

  "Was that your brother's girlfriend who was here the other day?" I finally ask, trying to make the words as casual as possible.

  "Who? Oh. No. That was just some girl. She actually came up to me in the book store the other day. She was all, Oh it's so nice to SEE you again! and I was all, Whatever, you skank, I know you're just being nice because you like my brother."

  "Does that happen a lot?"

  "Girls trying to be nice to me to get to Julian? All. The. Time. It's been pretty much the bane of my existence since junior high." She rolls her eyes and laughs, tossing her long hair behind her. Her silver and turquoise necklace shines in the sun streaming through the window as she does, and her white ruffled peasant blouse flutters slightly with the movement.

  "That stinks." I try not to let her know by my tone how painful it is to hear those words. Because even if I did have a chance with Julian, it would be a crappy thing to do to Vanessa.

  "Yeah, well, don't get me wrong. He's had some nice girlfriends before. But it's hard to have a brother who's so . . . popular . . . with girls. Sometimes I get burned in the process. Like when someone tries to be my friend just to get to him."

  If I had doubts before, that pretty much seals the deal. Of course, I didn't seek Vanessa out knowing she was Julian's sister. Still, no. It wouldn't be right.

  Vanessa and I hang out on the couch, enjoying laughing at stupid shows on television. We order a pizza, and when it comes we eat it straight out of the box, not bothering to even use plates.

  "This is so much better than the dorms," I say. "The best part is using the bathroom and knowing nobody's going to come barging in."

  "Yeah." Vanessa laughs. "But you don't know Julian that well. He doesn't exactly have the best manners."

  I wish she hadn't brought him up, because the minute I hear his name, I can't stop thinking about our kiss the other night. When Vanessa gets up to use the bathroom, I get up too and pretend to be looking around, but really what I want is a glimpse inside Julian's room. I walk to the open doorway and peek inside. His room is neater than I expected it to be; of course, I've never seen a guy's bedroom before, except for the quick glimpses I catch through open doors when I walk down my dorm hallway. His bed, while not neatly made, at least has the comforter spread on top, a plain navy blue covering with matching pillowcases. I try to imagine him in the bed, sleeping there, and have to look away out of embarrassment and a growing desire inside of me, something that I can't allow myself to feel. First because I'm sure Julian thinks I'm too young for him, and second because I couldn't do that to Vanessa.

  On the wall there's a Jimi Hendrix poster, a Lalapalooza poster from a few years ago, and a sign that reads, "I'm silently correcting your grammar." That sign makes me think, preposterously and inappropriately, if that applies to when he's having sex, and I blush hard.

  "If you're looking for my porn collection, it's in the closet."

  I whirl around to see Julian leaning casually against the living room wall, his hood up, his hands shoved in his hoodie pockets.

  I open my mouth, but no sound at all comes out. He stares at me, his face cocky, one eyebrow raised, and those green eyes looking directly into mine like a challenge.

  Vanessa comes out of the bathroom. "Hey, Jules," she says cheerfully, oblivious to the fact that her brother just caught me mentally snooping in his bedroom.

  Julian pushes his hood off and shakes out his hair, and I swear he looks like a movie star, his jaw so defined, the planes of his face practically begging me to trace them with my fingers. It feels like the temperature in the house just went up by at least ten degrees.

  "Hey, sis," says Julian. He crosses in front of me without a word in my direction and tosses his backpack into the room with a thud.

  "Are we gonna watch that movie tonight?" asks Vanessa.

  "I'm getting a beer," says Julian heading to the kitchen and ignoring the question.

  "Get me one too," his sister responds. "And Lia too."

  "No, I . . . " I protest. I don't even like beer.

  "If you're sure she can handle it," says Julian over his shoulder as he disappears into the kitchen. His tone is completely condescending, and I feel ashamed and angry. I want to leave, but I don't know how to gracefully get out of the situation, so I just sit there on the couch, wishing I could think of something clever to say. The story of my life, really.

  "Ignore him," says Vanessa quietly. "He can be a real jerk."

  I try to smile, but Julian's coming back into the room, and I feel overwhelmed. He tosses a can of beer to Vanessa, who catches it gracefully.

  "Heads up," he says to me, then throws a silver can across the room in my direction. I catch the cold beer in my hands, relieved I don't drop it.

  Julian frowns. "I thought maybe you'd sworn off drinking after the other night."

  "Shut up, Julian," says Vanessa playfully. "That was her first party. It's not like you didn't get wasted a lot your freshman year. And from what you said, she wasn't even drunk, just tipsy. Besides, if she drinks
with us, we can keep an eye on her. You know, we can corrupt her carefully."

  Julian laughs, a low sound that makes my stomach flutter. "Careful corruption? Isn't that a contradiction in terms?"

  "Just shut up and drink your beer," says Vanessa.

  He cracks it open, looking at me carefully, then tilts his head back and drinks. I can hear him swallowing from across the room, and something about the sound is so visceral, so physical, that my heart beats faster. I wonder what he sounds like when he’s with a girl, what noises he makes, how his breathing changes, what sorts of things he would say. Stop, I tell myself. Just stop. You wouldn't even know what to do with him.

  I open my beer and take a sip. It's gross, but at least it's cold, and I drink more, a longer sip, hoping it takes the edge off of my nerves.

  "So," says Vanessa. "The movie? Are we going to watch it or what?"

  "Nah," says Julian. "Not in the mood."

  "What movie?" I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

  "Great Gatsby. With Leonardo DiCaprio?" says Vanessa. "Oh, I forgot you're in class with Julian! Perfect. You can watch it too, then you can skip class since you'll already have seen it. Julian's sick of getting up early."

  Oh. With a sinking heart I understand why Julian doesn't want to watch the movie now. Because he doesn't want me to watch with them.

  "No, I have to go," I say, getting up. I glance at Julian, but he's not looking at me. In fact, he appears to be looking everywhere but at me.

  "And do what?" asks Vanessa. "Hang out with your roommate so you can discuss makeup techniques and nail polish? You know you'd rather hang out here with us."

  "And be . . . carefully corrupted," adds Julian in a joking voice, but I swear there's an edge to it. I sneak a glance at him, and he's staring at me, his eyes meeting mine as one corner of his mouth rises in a half grin.

  "OK," I say meekly and settle back down on the couch. Vanessa's sitting next to me, and Julian, after turning out the lights and starting the movie, lounges on the floor, his back against an armchair, his legs out in front of him.

  ***

  I'm completely incapable of paying attention to the movie. First off, it's not that great, and Vanessa and Julian keep making fun of Leonardo DiCaprio and the movie itself. But the real problem is that I can't stop thinking about Julian, about what happened in my dorm room the other day. My mind keeps replaying the way he said “Fuck it” before he kissed me, the low timbre of his voice, the way his eyes, I swear, turned a darker shade of green in that split second. Just the memory makes my body shaky and tingly. But I also can’t forget how he said it would never happen again. I'm still trying to resign myself to the fact that things between us are over before they've even started. Still, glancing at him over and over, and then at his darkened bedroom, is making me restless. I think about the girl who came out of his room the first time I was over, and I can't help wondering what, exactly, they did. Did they sleep together? Or just mess around? What would a guy like Julian expect? I know, of course, or at least I can guess, and thinking about it makes me completely unable to follow the film.

  I'm giving myself a quick internal lecture on not being such a dork when Vanessa yawns. "Guys?" she says. "This is not doing anything to keep me up. I'm sorry. I'm tired and have a big test in the morning. Do you mind if I go to bed?"

  "Oh. No," I say, alarmed. "I mean, no, we don't mind. I mean, I don't mind." I hate when I babble like this, but as usual when I'm nervous, I pretty much have no control over the words coming out of my mouth.

  "Night," says Julian, never taking his eyes off the TV. As Vanessa goes to her room and shuts the door, I look again at Julian. In the bluish light from the television, his arms are crossed over his chest, the hood of his sweatshirt shading his face so I can't see it at all.

  For what seems like a long time the movie plays while I stare at Julian's profile, feeling lost and confused and completely unwanted. The truth is, he's making it clear he doesn't really want me around, and I'm feeling increasingly uncomfortable. Why am I staying when all he's been tonight is rude? I gather up my pride and my nerve, grab my sweater, and head to the door.

  "So, I guess it's late. I'll just finish the movie in class. Or whatever." I put my hand on the doorknob, wishing he'd say something. Did he not hear me? It's weird that he's just silent. Weird and rude, I think, a surge of anger coursing through me. He doesn't need to be an asshole, whether he likes me or not.

  I turn the doorknob when he says, "Wait."

  That single word practically stops my heart. Spinning around, I face the room and Julian. He gets up in one fluid movement and stalks over to me. I back up against the door as he moves closer, close enough that I can feel his breath and warmth, can smell his soapy scent, slightly spicy and completely intoxicating.

  "What?" I ask. I want to sound angry—I am angry, or at least I was. But now a shiver of excitement tickles through me.

  Julian's silent for a few moments, but his eyes are looking directly into mine. They're so green and strong and unwavering, and it's almost more intense than if he were speaking. His face looks conflicted, just like it did in my dorm room.

  Suddenly he put his hands on the door, on either side of my head. "Lia," he says slowly in a deep voice, deeper than he usually sounds, "because of you I have not been able to concentrate on the movie for even a second. You have done nothing but distract me all night long."

  "Oh," I whisper. "I'm sorry . . . I didn't . . . "

  "You did." His words are harsh, a delicious contrast to his finger gently running along my bottom lip. I fight the urge to lick the pad of his finger, to suck it into my mouth. My breath catches when he moves his fingers to my neck, running the backs of them down against it, then a little lower. One finger curves down along the side of my right breast, gently, then he moves his hand up to my head. He winds his fingers through my hair, pulling me forward while he leans down towards me. We kiss, his lips so full and hungry, like he can't stop or won't stop, and I kiss him back, feeling my whole body grow tense with desire. I can taste the beer he drank, but also that almost familiar undertone of mint and chocolate. My eyes close, my entire body growing weak.

  When his hands land on my hips, the heat of them warms me through my clothes. He grips me hard, then loosens his hold again, as though he can't make up his mind. He moves a hand up my waist, higher, and touches my nipple through my shirt.

  I gasp.

  He looks down at me and grins, a smile part mischievous and part dark, and keeps his fingers there, slowly circling my nipple through my shirt until it's hard. I want more; I want him to touch my skin, but I don't know how to ask for it. Between my legs a steady pulse beats, and I'm so wet I can barely stand it.

  "Julian," I whisper. My body arches towards him, almost against my will. His eyes grow darker, and he places both hands on my hips again. For a few seconds he stands still, just staring into my eyes, his breath uneven.

  Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he leans down towards me again. I think he's going to kiss me more; I want him to so badly. Instead, though, his lips are near my ear, his voice rumbling against my skin.

  "What I want," he whispers, "is to bring you into my bedroom right now, take off all your clothes, and fuck you so hard you would never, ever, forget the way I feel inside you." He's breathing harder now, or maybe that's me, and I dare to reach out, to touch his stomach through his shirt, running my hand down lower and lower to the top of his jeans. He licks my neck, kisses it, then says, "If you hadn't told me what you did the other night, that's what we'd do right now."

  "Told you?"

  "That you're a virgin."

  I roll my eyes. "Does that really matter?"

  "It does. The things I want to do to you—you aren't ready for it. For any of it." He pulls away from me. "You should go."

  He's treating me like a kid. I want to stomp my foot and say, "But I don't want to go!" I have too much pride for that, though. Without a word, I open the door and slip out in
to the cold night. I can see my breath, and I pull my sweater on over my head as quickly as I can.

  "Fuck. Let me walk you." Julian steps out behind me, shutting the door.

  "I'm fine. I can walk home by myself."

  "It's late. It's dark. I'd be a total asshole if I let you walk alone."

  "Instead of just the partial asshole that you already are?"

  "Lia, I don't want to hurt you." He picks up his pace to keep up with me. I don't know if he's referring to physical pain or emotional pain. I don't really care, though. I feel humiliated and stupid. Of course Julian wouldn't do anything with me. I've known all along that he's out of my league.

  When we get to my dorm, I go inside without even a look back at him.

  ***

  I stumble to class the next morning, bleary eyed and yawning. It's the first time since I started school that I've had a hard time getting up, and I feel like maybe I'm becoming a real college student now, complete with a desire to stay in bed and skip class. But I wasn't up having fun or at a party; I was up all night feeling rejected by Julian. And I wasn't just feeling rejected. The truth was he'd told me, straight out, that nothing was going to happen between us. The one consolation I have is the knowledge that there's no way Julian will show up for class. He'll probably just re-watch the movie at his apartment. I could probably find it online and watch in the relative comfort of my dorm room, but since I’m already here I decide to just suck it up and watch in class.

  I flop into my seat a few minutes late. The lights are already dimmed, the movie’s starting, and I'm relieved that Julian, as expected, isn't here. It's easy to relax now, and I slink down in my seat to get comfortable.

  Until the back door to the classroom opens, and Julian enters.

  Why is he here? I thought I'd at least temporarily escaped my embarrassment at seeing him, at remembering the things I said to him last night. And he turned me down cold. Even thinking about it makes me cringe. He doesn't look at me, but pushes his desk up to mine and sits down. I can feel the cold from outside rising off his hoodie, can smell his clean warmth.