Chapter 5 Just a Kiss
Julian's POV
Then her eyes went unfocused again. Her hand dropped.
"Arthur," she whispered.
Everything in me went cold.
I stepped back. Put space between us.
She said it again. Softer. "Arthur."
Of course. Of course she mistook—
"Enough." My voice came out flat. Dead. "This isn't right."
I pulled the blanket up. Covered her with it.
She tried to sit up. "Why? Why did you stop?"
"Because you don't know what you're doing." I couldn't look at her. "You don't even know who I am."
She blinked at me. Confused. "I know... You're... You're..."
She couldn't finish. Didn't know.
I turned away. Walked to the window. Pressed my forehead against the cold glass.
Behind me, I heard her moving. The rustle of sheets.
"I know," she said. Voice getting quieter. Sleepy. "You're... warm. And you smell good. And..."
She trailed off.
I turned around.
She was curled up on her side. Eyes already closing. The alcohol and exhaustion finally catching up.
I watched her breathing slow. Watched her face go slack.
She looked so much softer like this. Vulnerable. Nothing like the girl who'd been clawing at my clothes five minutes ago.
I sat down on the floor. Leaned against the bed frame.
My hands were still shaking. I could still taste her. Still feel where she'd touched me.
The marks on my neck were starting to sting. Scratches from her nails. A bite mark on my collarbone.
I didn't touch them. Didn't want to erase the evidence that this had actually happened.
Even if she'd never remember.
Even if she'd been thinking of him the whole time.
I tilted my head back. Stared at the ceiling.
"You'll never see me, will you?" I said it out loud. To the dark room. To her sleeping form. To no one.
No answer. Just her steady breathing.
I stayed there. Sitting on the floor. Back against the bed.
Didn't sleep. Couldn't.
Just sat there until the sky outside started turning gray.
Arthur's POV
I stood in the hallway. Stared at the black leather jacket on the floor.
Eleanor's jacket. The one she'd been wearing all night.
Right outside Julian's door.
My hand was still raised. Still in a fist from knocking.
Inside, I'd heard—
Stray cat. Julian's voice. That mocking tone. The deliberate pause.
My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached.
I knew what he was implying. Knew exactly what he meant.
But it couldn't be Eleanor. It couldn't.
She was drunk. Upset. She'd never—
The sounds came back. Breathing. Movement. That gasp.
I shoved the thought away.
Julian and Eleanor hated each other. Had since they were kids. Every time they were in the same room, they ended up fighting.
Last summer, she'd dumped an entire pitcher of lemonade on his head. He'd retaliated by putting salt in her coffee.
The summer before that, they'd gotten into a screaming match over a game of tennis that ended with both of them storming off in opposite directions.
They couldn't stand each other.
So whatever was happening in that room—whoever was in that room—it wasn't her.
It was some girl from the party. Some random hookup Julian had brought back.
That made sense. That fit.
I picked up Eleanor's jacket. The leather was cold.
She must have dropped it. Left it here by accident when she went to her room.
That was all.
I turned and walked back down the hall. Toward my own room.
Vivienne was probably asleep by now. I should go back. Try to get some rest.
But I stopped outside Eleanor's door instead.
Pressed my ear against it. Listened.
Nothing. No sound at all.
She was in there. Sleeping it off.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
My hand went to my pocket. Found the pocket watch she'd given me.
I ran my thumb over the crystal face.
She'd been like a little sister. That's how I'd always seen her.
I'd made my choice. Accepted what the family wanted. Vivienne was—
I stopped that thought. Pushed away from Eleanor's door.
Went back to my room.
Vivienne was curled up on her side. Breathing soft and even.
I got into bed. Didn't touch her. Just lay there staring at the ceiling.
Thinking about a black jacket on the floor.
And the sound of my brother's voice saying stray cat.
Eleanor's POV
I woke up to sunlight stabbing through my eyelids.
My head felt like it was splitting open. My mouth tasted like something had died in it.
I groaned. Tried to sit up.
The room spun. I fell back against the pillow.
Where am I?
I forced my eyes open. Squinted against the light.
This wasn't my room.
The walls were dark wood. There was a vintage ski poster on the wall. A leather jacket thrown over a chair.
A men's leather jacket.
My heart started pounding.
I looked down at myself. I was still wearing the black sequined dress from last night. Wrinkled and twisted but intact.
Okay. Okay. Dress still on. That was good.
I sat up slowly. The room tilted but stayed in place.
There was someone on the floor.
I leaned over the edge of the bed.
Julian.
He was sitting with his back against the bed frame. Head tilted back. Eyes closed. His hair was a mess. There were dark circles under his eyes.
And his neck—
Oh God. His neck.
Scratches. Red marks. A bite mark on his collarbone visible above the collar of his sweater.
My stomach dropped.
No. No no no.
I touched my own neck. My lips. They felt swollen.
Pieces started coming back. Blurry. Disconnected.
The party. Tequila. Too much tequila.
Julian's hands on my waist. His mouth—
Oh my God.
"Julian?" My voice came out as a croak.
His eyes opened. He looked up at me. His expression was carefully blank.
"You're awake," he said. Flat. No emotion.
I pulled the blanket up to my chin. "Why am I in your room?"
He stood up slowly. Stretched. I heard his spine crack.
"You were too drunk last night," he said. Still in that flat voice. "I brought you here."
I looked down at the dress. At the blanket. At him.
"Did we..." I couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't make myself say it.
He watched me for a long moment. Something flickered in his eyes. Then it was gone.
"We kissed," he said. "That's all."
The room tilted again. This time it had nothing to do with the hangover.
"We... kissed?"
He nodded. "You don't remember? You kissed me first."
I stared at him. Tried to pull up the memory. Got nothing but fragments.
His mouth. His hands. The feeling of being warm. Safe.
Arthur.
Had I been thinking of Arthur?
"Then things got a bit out of hand," Julian continued. His voice was still flat. Detached. "But I stopped it before anything else happened."
I put my hands over my face. "Oh my God. No. This can't be—"
"Here." Something touched my hand. I looked up. Julian was holding out a glass of water and two pills. "This will help."
I took them. My hands were shaking so hard water sloshed over the rim.
The pills were bitter on my tongue. I swallowed them dry. Then drank the whole glass.
Julian sat down in the chair across from the bed. Watched me.
"So we..." I had to force the words out. "Only kissed? Nothing more?"
"Nothing more." His eyes were steady on mine. "I wouldn't take advantage of you like that."
I let out a breath. Felt my shoulders drop.
Okay. Okay. Just kissing. That was—
Still terrible. Still mortifying. But not as bad as it could have been.
I looked at him again. At the marks on his neck.
"I did that?" I pointed.
He glanced down. Touched his collarbone. "Yeah."
"I'm sorry. I didn't—I don't remember—"
"It's fine." He cut me off. Leaned back in the chair. "You were drunk. People do stupid things when they're drunk."
Stupid things. Right.
I pulled the blanket tighter around myself.
Julian was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "But you know... you did take my first kiss."
I froze. "What?"
He raised an eyebrow. That familiar smirk starting to show. "Last night. That was my first kiss."
I stared at him. "You're lying."
"I'm not." He crossed his arms. "So... shouldn't you take responsibility?"
