Page 53 of Love & Notes

“I know I was an absolute arsehole to you.”

“You were.” I agree, my voice barely above a whisper.

He lets out a quiet, low chuckle. “Monumentally so.”

“Yes.”

He stays there for a lingering moment, his thumb tracing my skin, his gaze fiercely locked on mine, until the gravity between us becomes unbearable. I am entirely suspended, holding my breath, waiting for him to close the final inch between our lips.

Instead, he slowly pulls his hand away.

“Same time tomorrow, Vance?” he asks, his voice dropping into a smooth, low rumble.

Before I can form a coherent response, he gathers his jacket and moves towards the door. But before he leaves, he turns to find my eyes one more time across the room.

And this time, his dark eyes promise something else entirely.

The petty arguments are officially over. The real danger is about to begin.

18

Julian

“Fucking idiot.” The curse slips into the crisp air as I walk across the empty courtyard, but it does nothing to the mocking voice in my head telling me I am an absolute fool. My brain is running on a loop that I would very much like to exit.

I barely slept a wink last night. I spent the entire night tossing and turning in my bed, watching the clock as the hours ticked away. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was her face, and all I could feel was the memory of her skin against my thumb. I had still been wide awake when the first faint rays of sunrise hit the high windows of the townhouse, furious with myself for losing control.

For being such a fucking idiot.

Now, it’s Friday night in Manhattan, and like every other Friday—and various other nights a week—I should be three whiskeys deep at Stave. I’ve lost count of the amount of times that Josh, Theo, and Marco have messaged over the last two hours, and I’ve told them the same version of “not tonight” without actually telling them why.

Explaining the actual truth would be an absolute fucking nightmare.

The guys are already throwing out smug remarks and making subtle jabs about my shift in mood. They know something is up. They aren’t blind. But if they had even a fraction of a clue about how deep this actually ran, or that I’ve been secretly looking at her in a way I won’t even admit to myself for the better part of a year, I’d never hear the end of it.

They’d tear me apart for being a soft hypocrite, and honestly, I wouldn’t even be able to defend myself. I’ve carefully built a wall between myself and the world—myself and her.

The arrogant, bad-tempered, leather jacket wearing prick who doesn’t give a shit about anyone.

I provoked her, pulled those stupid bows, and pushed her buttons under the cover of finding her rigid perfectionism “annoying.” To completely drop the mask now—to admit that my relentless teasing was only a pathetic cover for how desperately I wanted her, would strip away every bit of control I have left. It would hand her all the power, exposing every weak spot I’ve spent the last year protecting.

And honestly, I wouldn’t even be able to defend or control myself.

That rehearsal completely fucked with my system.

What the hell was I thinking? Reaching out and touching her—and more than once. Even if it’s the humiliating truth, why the fuck did I choose to say it out loud to her?

“Because you’ve been messing with mine for the last year, Ellise.”

Jesus Christ.

In the span of a single Thursday evening over some cheap pizza with a side of garlic mayo, she completely derailed me.

I throw my cigarette on the slabs, crushing the ember under the heel of my boot and push my way through the heavy front doors of Belrose.

The conservatory at night is hauntingly beautiful. The grand vaulted marble corridors are entirely empty, stripped of the daytime chaos, leaving my heavy boots to echo aggressively against the cold marble floors.

A man on a desperate mission.