Page 31 of Alive At Night

Julian pushed a hand through his hair, which was darker, more auburn this morning. Clumped strands fell over his forehead, and I realized they were still damp. Which also explained why our office suddenly smelled like soap. Masculine soap with hints of musk and spice.

“I don’t give a shit what they need,” Julian grunted. “They can die for all I care.”

“I was going to move them back to my desk in a bit,” I explained. “After a little sunbath.”

Julian grabbed the top of the door frame with one hand before resting his forehead against his bicep in a moment of clear frustration. His words were muffled when he spoke. “Your plants, your desk.”

I rolled my eyes at his dramatics. “I thought you liked flowers. You know, considering how often you reference them in conversation.”

“That’s not even a flower.” Julian lifted his head, eyes scrutinizing my plants. “It’s just a bunch of leaves.”

“It’s a moonflower, Julian.”

He dropped his arm again. “Why are you saying that like I’m supposed to know what it means?”

“Oh, moonflower isn’t on your curated list?”

Julian’s lips twitched, pulling into a smirk. “No, but I can add it.”

Just once. Just once, I wanted to have a conversation with Julian that didn’t backfire on me. I glared at him when I said my next words so he knew I was serious.

“Do not start calling me that.”

“I can’t make any promises.” He shrugged, noncommittal. “Not while that’s sitting on my desk.”

“Fine.”

Picking up one pot and then the other, I moved them back to the corner of my desk that was most likely to get some sunlight. I wasn’t counting on it, though. Julian’s desk faced the only window in the office, while mine was tucked into the corner with only blank walls to keep me company. Together, they made a squished L-shape. Sometimes it felt more like we worked in a closet than an office.

Julian nodded with approval before he crossed the space and started unpacking his bag. I watched him for a moment, my good mood from earlier slowly transcending into annoyance. This happened most mornings, and it usually only worsened the longer Julian and I had to stay within the same four walls.

“You’re doing that staring thing again,” Julian said without even bothering to look at me. I was sure he purposefully tried not to on most days.

I crossed my arms over my chest, knowing I wouldn’t be able to get back to work until I scratched that combative itch inside me that only Julian seemed to spark. “I was just thinking that an alternative solution would be for us to switch desks.”

“Hell no.” He shook his head, keeping his eyes on his computer as he opened it. “If you wanted to litter your desk with plants, you shouldn’t have brought ones that need full sun. It’s called planning ahead. How did you get through law school without critical thinking skills, Daisy?”

I scowled, hating when he made some small thing I did into a bigger, professional slight. Did he forget thathehad come tomefor help with a case?

“I’m trying to declutter my apartment,” I confessed, ignoring his comment. “I didn’t realize you would be so much of a curmudgeon about it. My mistake, honestly. I should have expected you’d be the Ebenezer Scrooge of the office.”

Even as I said it, I knew the words weren’t entirely true. This behavior of Julian’s would never extend to the entire office. Onlyouroffice.

“The last thing I need is you invading my space with your shit. I had to deal with that for like ten years, and I’m over it.” He sighed heavily, hunching over his desk. “Leave your clutter at home, okay?”

Often when we argued, there was a hint of a smirk on Julian’s face. A smirk that told me that he enjoyed irritating the hell out of me. But this was not one of those times. I couldn’t even see his face, but I knew. The tone of Julian’s voice was sharp. Pointed.

I sighed as a familiar, embarrassing sense of rejection swirled in my gut. I shoved it down, refusing to let Julian bother me.

“Right now, my apartment looks like I’m unhealthily obsessed with plants, books, and clothes and have no friends,” I said, doing whatever I could tonotget sucked into the past. “I don’t want Noah to see all that.”

Although, it was an accurate description. My life was a collection of outlet malls, romance novels, enough plants to have my own greenhouse, and Gemma. Because I did haveonefriend. In Boston, anyway. The few friends I’d made in college were now scattered throughout the country, and it was scary how quickly we’d drifted apart.

Julian turned abruptly in his chair to stare at me. His face had twisted even more than I imagined. Eyebrows pulled together, mouth flattened in a rigid line, the tone of his voice still sharp.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

I frowned, not sure what had been unclear. “It means I invited Noah over and—”

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