Page 30 of Roses & Ruin

I watch Julian scrub a hand through his hair as he makes his way back to the circle of easels and the gawking students pretending to paint at them. Their attention snaps back to their canvases when they see him coming. All of them except Delia’s, of course. Her eyes are huge.

Are you kidding me? she mouths, fanning herself. I give her my biggest eye roll and drop my gaze to my hand. I flex and relax my palm, watching the long, slim cut open and close over and over. At least it’s stopped bleeding.

Before long, the bell tower at the center of campus chimes. Class is over. Chairs scrape and conversation erupts among the other students as they pack up their stuff and put away their paints and brushes. I catch a few of them glancing over at me, but for once, I don’t care. I amble over to my seat and start to pack my bag with one hand and Delia’s help.

“Miss Shields,” Julian calls out as he roots around his desk drawers, looking frustrated. “You’re not getting an infection on my watch. Stay a moment, please.”

Delia’s eyes get so wide, I swear they take up half her face. “We’ll talk later,” she whispers before scurrying out.

“Yes, found it!” Julian holds up a small red first aid bag. “Over here, Rose.” He pats a chair beside his desk as the last student files out, looking back curiously at us. Julian doesn’t notice. He’s in his desk chair, drumming fingers on his smooth jaw as he plucks items from the open kit. I fall into the wooden chair beside his desk.

“Thank you,” I say.

Julian glances up and smiles. “It’s nothing.” He takes my hand, and when he’s satisfied the bleeding has stopped, he digs out some Neosporin. “Is this how you are after a beer or two?”

I blush, a little embarrassed. “Apparently. All I want to do is put my head down.”

Julian’s expression softens. “You can, by the way.”

“What?”

“Put your head down.” He unzips his charcoal knit cardigan. When he pulls it off, a delicious cloud of leather and bergamot puffs in my face. He balls the soft wool and sets it on the desk in front of me.

I don’t think twice. I rest my head on his cardigan. It’s still warm from his body. “Wow, this smells good. Like, really good.”

Julian bursts into laughter. “I should hope so. It’s over one hundred and fifty quid for three ounces of the stuff.” He looks down at me and raises a brow. “What do you think? Worth it? Or do you think I’m a bloody idiot?”

“Totally worth it.” When I peek up at Julian, color is high on his cheeks as he gathers the trash from the gauze and bandages.

“Glad I’m not wasting my money,” he murmurs, shooting a quick glance at me.

“You were asking if this is what I’m like after a couple beers. It’s not, because it turns out I don’t like beer,” I say.

“No?” he says.

“Nope. Also, did you know a Long Island iced tea has zero tea in it and tastes like something from over there?”

Julian swivels his head to see I’m pointing at the shelf laden with metal cans of turpentine, mineral spirits, and acetone. He bursts into laughter.

“I’m learning so much today,” he says, his eyes dancing with amusement.

“No, you’re not. I’m sure you knew all about Long Island iced teas. And actual Long Island. And Staten Island. I bet you know all the islands.”

Julian gives me a small, warm smile. “As far as islands go, I really only know the British Isles, and, according to my friend who’s from Brooklyn, it is quite alright to know nothing about Staten Island.” Julian tosses the wrappers into the trash can beneath his desk. “So…” he begins. “What is your drink of choice?”

I think of what Delia said the other night.

“I’ve never had it,” I muse, “but I think I’d like to try red wine sometime.”

“That can be arranged,” he says casually. He zips up the first aid kit, puts it away. “One of my friends has an art show at a gallery in downtown Fairford coming up. They’ll have red wine there.” Julian’s on his feet now, gathering his things. He peers into his messenger bag, tucking notebooks and pens into the multiple pockets. “Would you like to come with me?”

What?

Surely I misheard him. I sit up slowly.

“You want me to come with you as your…student?” I eventually say.

Julian leans a hip against his desk and rolls his eyes. “You really do need sleep. As my date. Do you want to come with me as my date?”