It had been several months since Julian had seen Kate. Things were bad. Twenty-nine years old, divorced, playing video games in his boxers on a Friday night -- he was feeling pretty sorry for himself and had been for a while. He'd acted like an idiot, sure, but it was fixable. He was blind to that fact, however, by his pride.
In some ways he was angry at her for giving up. He planned to make her wait, to make her earn it, but in the end hi feelings for her were real and he had every intention of letting her know. In his defense things were complicated: his divorce was finalized less than a year prior, and he'd known Kate for so long. In some ways she really was a child to him -- unrelentingly naive, loyal, brave. The adults he knew weren't like that. She had no concept of self-preservation, which can be incredibly dangerous for such a pretty girl. He had shown her that.
The last time he saw her she had come over to his house for a change -- a welcome one, as he lived alone -- and she was still crazy about him, it was obvious. He wanted to hurt her just for the way she looked at him, so sweet -- why, though, was this his reaction? He'd been a normal person at one time, respectful of others, even her -- where had things changed?
"You should move in with me," he said, standing over the grill on his back deck.
He couldn't see her face, but she rolled her eyes. Inside her heart was pounding but she knew better than to take him seriously. "Why would I do that?"
He shrugged. "I have plenty of room. You'd have own bathroom. With your books we could turn the second bedroom into a library."
"And where would I sleep, if not the second bedroom?"
"With me. What kind of cheese do you want?"
"Provolone."
He pulled a slice of provolone from the package and put it on her burger. On the other he put a slice of cheddar. He took a sip of his bourbon, relishing the burn that traveled through his body. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"What do you say?"
She laughed, looking out over the city. "I can't afford the rent."
"It's paid for." Julian slipped a spatula under her burger and placed it on a toasted bun. "Come and get it."
They ate, mostly in silence. He liked the way she dipped her burger into the ketchup, rather than spread it on the patty.
"You're expending a lot of energy there," he said, gesturing toward the ketchup on her plate.
She said nothing.
As he watched her he noticed her face flushing slightly. He liked making her uncomfortable. He finished his cheeseburger without taking his eyes off her. Finally, she looked up.
"What."
He shrugged.
"You're staring at me, what?"
"Nothing."
Annoyed, she placed her not quite finished burger on the plate and pushed it away. "I'm done. Thank you."
He removed the plates and went inside, placing them on the kitchen counter. "Come on," he called. "We're done out there."
He was simultaneously unpredictable and predictable. They'd spent countless days and nights together since their last fight, their last fuck. There had been plenty of opprtunities to bicker, not that she'd wanted to, but she knew it was something that pleased him. Then out of nowhere he'd just get into another one of his moods, and no matter what she said or did she couldn't stop him from starting a fight. Although she never ceased to try.
"Get in here," he snapped, even though she was already on her way in. "What do you want to drink?"
"Nothing, thank you."
He turned and looked at her, narrowing his eyes slightly. "What?"
"I don't," she paused, "want anything to drink. Thank you, though."
He opened the refrigerator. "Beer?"
"Julian, I don't --"
He spun around and slammed his fists on the kitchen island between them. "If you don't choose, I will."
"I'm just no-"
"That's fine," he cut her off. He reached into the fridge, grabbed a beer, and twisted off the cap before handing it to her. "Drink it." Before she could protest, he continued. "Fucking drink it because I invited you to my home and offered you something to drink, and if you refuse I'm going to get really annoyed."
That was enough for her. She took a sip. "Thank you." She took a seat in one of the stools beside the island, and he grabbed his own drink and sat down beside her.
"So what do you say."
"What?"
"Move in with me."
"I can't." She was quiet. Then, "You know that."
"Why not."
"I can't...I
can't
. It's weird, Jules. Camilla just moved out, I'm not even your..."
"My what."
