Page 58 of Alive At Night

THERE WAS THIS SOCIETAL misconception that people were either created as early morning risers or late-night owls. That if they went to bed late, they hated waking up early. That if they woke up early, they never slept in. That their nighttime preferences had everything to do with sleeping and nothing to do with living.

I stayed up late because nights were when freedom existed.

And I was always so reluctant to give it up. To resign myself to the morning when the sun tended to bring an immediate agenda—one I had never known how tonotstick to like glue.

I liked having my to-do lists, but sometimes I didn’t know how to live until everything was checked off.

Tonight was one of those nights, the ones I was reluctant to end.

Saying good night to Noah meant saying good morning to Julian tomorrow, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for that after how he acted tonight.

Well, even if it weren’t for tonight, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go into the office tomorrow. Being around Julian the last few days had beenexhausting. I didn’t know how else to explain it because I didn’t know where to place the feelings I’d experienced Saturday night. Or worse, Sunday morning.

Sunday morning.

I was between ninety and one hundred percent certain that Julian had kissed me. His lips on my skin, making me gasp. He’d found that spot, the one that caused all-over shivers and an unraveling in my gut.

Based on his reaction a second later—his accusations and unbridled irritation—he hadn’t realizedwhohe’d been kissing. But that didn’t matter. The moment happened, and the memory clung to me. A constant reminder that Julian wasn’t that annoying boy from my childhood anymore.

He was a man, a full-grown man who was mind-numbingly attractive when shirtless and sleepy-eyed. The rumpled hair and the rippling muscles pinning me to the bed had only added to it. And just when I thought I might have been dreaming, his hips had shifted and—

Man. A man.

And on that Sunday morning in Julian Briggs’ bed, I was a woman who wanted him.

When he’d abruptly pulled away, I’d hated myself for feeling that way, but it was too late. And now it kept haunting me, worse than any Halloween horrors.

I’d learned the best way to hide from the dark was to bask in the light, and that was exactly what I was doing. Tonight, I’d clung to every little compliment Noah had tossed my way, every smile. Because I knew exactly where we stood and what our status quo was. And while Noah was still every bit a stranger, that was so much more comfortable than exploring something new that hid in the old.

Noah held open the door as we left the Bellflower, letting me walk into the night first before skirting around to bump me away from the curb and take his place beside me.

Poor guy had wanted to wait for Julian to come back, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that his friend probably wouldn’t return. Plus that it was my fault. Only after Noah checked his phone to find confirmation that Julian had left did he give up, pay for our drinks, and insist on walking me home.

Sensing Noah’s confusion, I sighed. And admitted the truth.

“You know, he’s just mad at me about…this.”

I wiggled a finger back and forth between us, hoping he’d get the hint.

But Noah only frowned. “You think he’s mad atyou?”

“He’s always mad at me.”

With a slow nod, Noah shoved his hands into his pockets. The bar had grown stuffy and warm, and Noah’s sleeves were now pushed up, highlighting the tattoos covering his forearms.

“Okay,” he said, drawing out the word, “but why do you think he’s mad at youthistime?”

Wasn’t it obvious? “He thinks I’m stealing his friends. Just like I stole his sisters.”

“You think—” Noah cut off with a laugh. “I don’t know about that, Juniper.”

“Trust me,” I insisted. “He’ll definitely make some comment about it tomorrow in the office.”

Noah smiled.Genuinelysmiled, and it confused me. “Kind of a twist of fate that you two ended up working together, huh?”

I wasn’t sure why everyone found this particular fact amusing when it was, in fact, incredibly irritating.

“We don’t just work together,” I corrected. “We share an office.”

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