Page 24 of Dahlias, Sapphires, and Cool Autumn Dusk
I grinned, realizing he would probably also pass out. “I’ll wake you when I come out.”
“No, he falls asleep in front of the television like some old guy, but I don’t. Besides, I’m going to be antsy because you’re reading my work. See you in a bit.”
I turned toward the computer, blowing out a breath because it wasn’t like I knew a lot about plays in general. Maybe I wouldn’t even be the intended audience.
But I started reading.
Immediately, the story sucked me in, and I felt as if I was Elizabeth Short, the beautiful dark-haired heroine.
“Hello,” she said, then nodded to the audience per the stage direction. “I’m Elizabeth Short, but you know me by another name.” Stage direction instructed her to pause, and I imagined her lips quirking with an impish grin. I could picture her as though she was real. “History has called me the Black Dahlia.”
Okay, I’m hooked. Julian used the play to describe a family—a really traditional one, with a mom, dad, two kids, a teenage boy and a grown daughter—all just going about their lives. Then everything is upended by the sudden and mysterious death of a neighbor. Even more interestingly, each of the characters dragged a ghost along with them through the plot. The father walked with the shadow of his father—long dead but ever chasing his steps, trying to be the man he imagined his father to be. The mother had her mother’s ghost, whispering all the things she should be doing throughout the day like a taskmaster. The older sister carried her living mother’s dreams from when she was young, before she became a parent and changed her path. The brother had his fifth-grade teacher, who died in the night and didn’t return to school the next day.
Dahlia herself remained in constant dialogue with her dead neighbor. Minor characters filled out the story—a police officer, the neighbor’s mother, but everyone had their own ghost.
I finished it in an hour, and by the end, tears streamed down my face. I wiped them away with a sniffly sob. It was a beautiful play, so different than I imagined when I thought of his writing.
The Black Dahlia started and ended the play, but the story didn’t focus on her. She haunted the play, like a figure removed from the action and yet part of it at the same time.
I sat back in my seat, wiping my nose and breathing slowly. Julian would probably get a big head, but I would be ravingabout the play. My fears of telling him bad news were squashed by his amazing writing skills.
I tiptoed out to the living room, hoping not to wake them if they fell asleep. Sure enough, Jeremy was out cold on the couch, snoring. Barrett played the piano, his fingers almost strolling across the keys, and I was surprised I didn’t realize it was him playing.
They left the television on, but with the volume so low, I wasn’t sure anyone could hear it over the music. Julian wasn’t really watching it anyway, instead scrolling through his phone. He looked up when I entered and then jumped to his feet.
With his arms crossed over his chest, he approached me, one brow arched defensively. “How bad?”
I blinked at him, still slightly sniffly. “How bad? Not bad at all. Brilliant.” I wiped at my eyes again. “You made me cry. Julian, you are so talented. Thank you for even letting me read it and…”
He kissed me, square on the lips, the gentlest of caresses to steal my words away. His body practically vibrated against mine, his emotions so vibrant I could feel them press against me as clearly as his lips. Finally, he pulled away, taking my hand and dragging me with him into his bedroom. With a click, he shut the door behind us.
Before I could sputter out a laugh at his eagerness, he asked, “Really?”
I nodded. “Really. I wouldn’t lie about your writing, though I was afraid you might suck and make things horribly awkward for us both. No, it is actually incredible. Seriously. I know you said you wanted to be a playwright, that it was your goal, but I had no idea you were this talented. You’re an artist.”
Julian hugged me so tightly I had to put my head down on his shoulder. “Thank you. I…I do feel like this is what I am supposed to be doing, but I also don’t want to be ridiculous. I’mthe rich kid of a rich kid. Sure, we live this impossible, hidden life, but I don’t know that it means I have anything interesting to say. Sometimes it seems ridiculous to think I have something important to say that people should hear.”
I pulled back. “What? But you do. You completely do.”
“Well, thank you. I mean, seriously.” He kissed me again, but this time, his lips weren’t gentle. Instead, he claimed my mouth, his tongue hungry and asking. He stroked his fingers down my cheek, and I shuddered against him, answering his needs with some of my own. I trembled, even. It felt different, somehow. Despite all of them kissing me—as frequently as possible—this one was different, or my response was.
He led us toward his bed, which seemed like a great idea to me, especially when his weight pressed me down into the mattress. We rarely even entered his room normally, making it strangely intimate and special.
He whispered near my lips, “Nothing happens that you don’t want to happen. I am just going to kiss you.”
I nodded, nuzzling my nose against his. My body ached, needing more of his. “There…there is going to come a time where I want more than kissing.”
He smoothed my hair, watching me with the cutest smirk. “Well, I sort of hope that will be the case, of course. But for now, I don’t want you to feel pressured about anything.”
I didn’t but he was sweet to point it out. Then again, Julian seemed to prioritize me from the first moment we met. “I think that I should get on birth control first,” I admitted.
Julian tilted his head, not disagreeing. “Good call.”
I bit my lip, because the logistics would be a bit complicated. Although it likely would be easy enough to ask a doctor for a prescription, I didn’t have access to my insurance information, nor did I think my aunt would be willing to provide it. Phoenix said he would look into that but didn’t know the status. But inbed with Julian wasn’t the time to worry about such mundane things.
I kissed him instead, drawing him down to me, and he greedily accepted my offer. He kissed my lips like he owned them, his shirtless torso hot under my hands. I traced my fingers down his back, feeling his skin and the hardness of his muscles bunch under my touch. He moaned, jerking his hips against me but continued to kiss me, nothing more.
I closed my eyes and sank into the feelings, lost in a sea of the taste of him and his touch. My control slipped away so easily with my eyes shut, the darkness the perfect place for my needs and cravings. He was hard, his need obvious and grinding up against me, and part of me thrilled to be wanted by him.
