Page 63 of Caught in a Bad Fauxmance
It shouldn’t matter, and it doesn’t. Not really. The semantics of Liam and Julian’s relationship aren’t any of my business, and I don’t have any interest in knowing more about Liam than I need to. And yet…I haven’t been able to shake off what Liam said since he hissed it at me. Julian—frustrating, confusing, and strangely wonderful—has trusted me with a lot worse than the details of a breakup. It’s what sets him apart from his siblings, and the boy I knew all those years ago. This Julian’s never acted like he has something to hide from me.
He runs one hand along his arm as he lets out a long, slow sigh.
“I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that. Too personal,” I say in one swift breath before downing enough milkshake to give me brain freeze.
“No, it’s fine,” he replies, eyes on his place mat. “He did. Break up with me.”
There’s a bitterness in him that I’ve never seen before. Beyond sadness or anger. Disappointment, maybe?
The thought of a selfish blowhard like Liam dumping someone like Julian seems impossible. People like Liam are meant to be dumped once the glitter of their bank account wears off. They’re not supposed to dump kind, gentle, sweet boys who make your heart flutter with a single latte.
“Apparently, he doesn’t ‘do’ relationships. Or, not with guys like me, I guess,” he mutters. “He was always complaining that I held his hand too tight, or I picked the wrong movie to watch, or I wouldn’t remember to keep his favorite snacks in the house…. I told Dad it was my idea, though. I thought if he knew…he’d find some way to blame me for screwing up things for him with Liam’s dad.” His frown ticks into a bitter smirk. “Like he didn’t ruin that all on his own.”
I nod slowly. “So, why’s Liam still lurking around if he dumped you? Why not go be a bachelor on a yacht in Ibiza, or something?”
Julian laughs, but it’s not enough to keep the tension from washing over him again. “He wanted someone to have ‘fun’ with while he was in town, no strings attached.” He stares at the dark, desolate highway beyond the window. “People like him aren’t used to not getting what they want.”
And here I thought it wasn’t possible to dislike Liam more than I already do. I’m not a violent person, but I hope he stubs his toe every night for the next year. No, next decade.
“Liam’s an idiot,” I say, because I can’t let the silence linger. Not when there are so many things I want to say sitting on the tip of my tongue. “I mention something once and you always remember it.” I gesture to my milkshake. “And you’re not even my real boyfriend.”
The corners of his lips tug upward as he starts to fold the edges of his place mat. I can just make out the pink dusting the apples of his cheeks. His hand is so close to mine it aches not to reach out and close the distance.
“Some things are worth remembering.”
Okay, that was pretty swoon-worthy.
We’re not touching, but we still recoil when Judy returns with our fries, tucking our hands under our thighs and keeping our legs to our respective sides of the table. This far away from the lake we don’t have to pretend to be something we aren’t. Judy winks at Julian as she sets the plate down, pinching his cheek before returning to work. The red mark stands out on his already flushed cheeks.
When I tear my eyes away from my milkshake, Julian’s already done the honor of spearing a fry from the center of the plate, dripping with gravy and coated in cheese, holding it up to my mouth. “Get ready, your life’s never going to be the same after this bite.”
“You have a thing for French fries, don’t you?” I tease with a raised brow.
“Why wouldn’t I? They’re the best food.”
Now’s not the time to get into why I’m a mozzarella stickman myself. But if anyone has the power to convert me to the fry side, it’s him. I open my mouth wide and accept the forkful. The heavens don’t open up, and my life is still as confusing as ever, but it’s a damn good first bite. Gooey cheesy goodness and the salty tang of gravy.
“Pretty good,” I reply.
“Pretty good? That’s it?” Julian shakes his head in outrage, pulling the plate closer to his side of the table and spearing an extra cheesy fry for himself.
Right before he can bite down, I snatch the fry off his fork for myself. “I’ve had better.”
Julian reaches forward, wiping gravy off my lower lip. “Oh really?”
The touch makes me freeze, my mind going into overdrive as I struggle to decide whether I want to lick the pad of his thumb, kiss him, or stab him with my fork. “Mmm-hmm,” I manage to croak out, the sound a garbled mess.
Before I can retaliate, Julian leans back in his seat with a satisfied smirk. I snatch up my milkshake, taking a long sip and letting the brain freeze dull my frazzled nerves.
“I happen to know a very talented chef,” I say once I’ve composed myself again. “He makes these kimchi fries…” I let out a low whistle. “Once you have them, no other cheesy potato compares.”
Julian smiles around his fork, trying and failing to hide his rosy cheeks behind his hands. “He sounds like a prick.”
“Oh, he definitely is.” The light flickers again, a momentary darkness. We lean in, knees touching under thetable, hanging on to the edge of our seats. “But he’s all right sometimes.”
I’ve never pulled an all-nighter before. I’d rather not make a habit out of doing something that involves this much caffeine, but if all-nighters mean nights like this one, I can make some unhealthy exceptions.
Julian talks me into my first cup of coffee. The second one is all me. The third one is a mistake, but my eyes are starting to droop, and I don’t want to fall asleep. Reenergized by greasy carbs and to-go iced lattes, Julian and I finally leave Al’s at a quarter to four with full bellies and jittery hands. We drive aimlessly and sing along to an embarrassingly sappy playlist Julian made for an ex until our throats are hoarse, moving onto air guitar solos and slapping our hands against the dashboard when our voices refuse to keep up.
