Page 67 of Only With You

“Sorry. You weren’t waiting long, were you?” she asks, hooking a gold hoop on her earlobe.

Snowy white and electric sapphire swirl in my head.

I stiffly shake my head and step inside. She hardly acknowledges me before she stands in front of a long mirror leaning against the wall in the living room.

She says something else, but I can’t focus on what’s coming out of her mouth, because I’m stuck staring at her figure and what she’s wearing.

A cream-coloured, sleeveless, turtle neck, knit-type of dress moulds to her body, and it’s short with a small slit on the side. Because of the length, it gives a view of her legs that look…tanned. I hadn’t noticed at first, but now looking at her, I realise she got a tan. And her blonde hair that’s typically straight cascades past her shoulders and back in soft waves.

Saying Julianna looks nice would be an understatement. She looks anything butnice. She’s always put together. Even when she’s home, she looks like she’s ready to go out. So this shouldn’t be any different, except it is. She doesn’t just look put together. She looks like she tried hard, and by the way she’s staring at herself in the mirror, it looks like she wants to impress someone.

Not sure why she would put that much effort. She’s easily an impressive person.

It’s only an observation. It doesn’t take much to realise that. I only failed to notice…well…because I’vehatedher all these years.

“You’re making a mistake.”

She spins on her slipper and pins me with aI’m not ready to deal with your bullshitlook. Despite that, she still replies, “Mistake? What are you talking about?”

“The dress. It’s like you’re asking someone to spill something on it.”

Her brows cinch. Even those look different. God, she really went all out for a college party.

Not that I’m judging her. I’ve seen girls wear all kinds of things to parties, but that dress doesn’t belong there. It looks expensive.

“It’s dinner. No one is going to spill anything on this.” She sweeps her gaze over her own body, then looks at me.

“A house party is not dinner,” I correct her, taking a seat in the chair I’ve been sitting in for almost three weeks now.

“House party? What are you talking about?” Now she looks utterly confused.

Nice is too bland of a word to use on her. She looks…heavenly.

“Are you not”—and then it all clicks, and now, I feel like an idiot—“going to the party?”

I see it click in her eyes, too. “No, I’ve got a date tonight.”

Date.

“Who’s the unfortunate bastard stuck with you tonight? I’ll have to give him my condolences.”

A sickeningly sweet smile touches her lips. “I understand you have a small dick, so you have to compensate with your shitty personality and height to make up for that fact. But don’t take it out on me. It’s not my fault your dick is micro.”

I could show her my cock to shut her up, because it’s anything but micro, but I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate that. My eyes settle on her chest and I decide on what I want to say.

“And your tits must compensate for that nonexistent brain of yours, but you don’t hear me complaining.”

The smile on her face falters. It dawns on me that I hit a soft spot and I should revel in that, but instead, I feel guilty.

She only said what she said because I started it. I didn’t mean it, not this time.

“I—”

“We should get started.” She takes the seat next to mine, not looking at me. She also moves her chair, adding space between us.

“Julianna, I didn’t mean?—”

“I don’t want to hear it, okay? Can we just get this over with?” she snaps.

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