He tips my chin up. “What past? This has never happened to me.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Julian D’Angelo, the most intense man alive, has never gotten this horny before?”
He frowns at me, his hair so adorably mussed and imperfect that it makes me want to hide every brush and comb in New Jersey. “I’m telling you that I have never, not once, looked at someone and felt like my entire life’s finally begun.”
My throat tightens, and I struggle to swallow as the pale-blue lakes of his eyes reflect my face back to me. “You can’t say stuff like that after one night together, Julian. You’ll scare the women away.”
“Good. I don’t want other women. I only want you.”
“Fine. You’ll scaremeaway.”
“I don’t believe that.” His serious face transforms into a slow, knowing smile as he brushes his finger against my cheek. “You’ve seen all my scariest sides, Nomi, and you’re still here with me now, looking at me like that. So, forgive me for telling you the truth, even when it’s scary, even when it’s too much. Besides, I think you like my too much.”
“I do,” I whisper, still strangely choked. In a world where so many are terrified of being cringe, of being seen and judged and found ridiculous, Julian’s unabashed insistence on being himself might be my favorite thing about him. It’s a form of bravery, I think. A confidence that transcends the small-minded fear of others’ opinions. Inthisday and age? Where every text is carefully calculated to show just enough interest not to be embarrassing, to never fully put your feelings on display, always maintaining your ability to walk away and appear utterly unscathed, Julian’s full-throttle devotion feels like a homecoming. A relief.
And also? Way,waytoo serious.
“We should talk.”
“Alright. Let’s talk.” He regards me patiently, almost amused, as I clear my throat.
“As I have mentioned, I don’t date.” I watch him closely, but his expression doesn’t change.
“Good. Me, either.”
“Good?” I blink, wondering how I got off so easy here. “Okay, then. We’re in agreement. We’renotdating.”
“Right,” Julian agrees, pulling me fully atop him. “We’re skipping dating and going straight to being together.”
“Julian!” I laugh despite my intentions to be serious as he bites his bottom lip into his mouth and bucks me lower onto his lap, where his thick cock swells between my legs. “I thought we could, you know. Be casual. Have some—fun.” My moan splits up the sentiment.
“What a pretty little liar you are, Wyeth,” Julian pants out, smirking as his thumb finds my clit and bears down, hard. “You never thought thatIcould becasualabout you. Admit it.”
I whimper as I settle onto his cock, and his slack-jawed smile curls into that insolent grin, all the confession that he needs.
By the time we mosey into the kitchen, Eve is already up and baking. “Muffins,” she announces grandly. “With honeyed peaches and oats.”
“And weed?” I ask.
“Without, actually,” Eve responds airily. “I figured the doctor might enjoy some sobriety this morning. But these are for the rest of us.” She reveals a platter of pale-green blondie bars under aluminum foil and grins wickedly.
She delivers a muffin and banana to Julian, along with a mug of coffee and a little smile. “Thanks for taking care of my number one all night, Doc. Glad you’re here.”
Julian’s expression goes impossibly touched at the gesture, his eyebrows folding into a single, perfect arch. “Thank you for inviting me. This has been the best weekend of my life.”
Eve presses a hand quickly to her chest and sniffs, a franklywilddisplay of emotion for her toward a straight white man, then pushes his plate to him on the bar. “Go on, eat up. I even added some protein powder. You’ve got to keep your strength up the way you two are going.” She winks, and Julian salutes, while I sigh and grab a blondie. I knew she wouldn’t let us off the hook today, not after she came stumbling into our room at two a.m. while I was riding Julian like a seesaw, screaming “Pumpkin!” but unwilling to stop for even a minute. But if there’s one thing I’m picking up from Julian, it’s that feeling embarrassed is overrated.
I make my way to the couch, not quite bowlegged but pushing it, and grab my phone from where it’s been charging overnight. I flip through all my usual notifications—texts from Mom, pictures sent from Grahamand Eve as they terrorized a mini-golf course last night, then flip over to email. Most of it’s trash, but one subject line makes my heart rate spike:
NOTICE OF ZONING HEARING
I toss down the uneaten blondie and click on the email, my eyes racing over the lines of text.
Ms. Wyeth:
You are hereby summoned to appear in front of the Sparrow Nook Zoning Commission on August 15th at 6 p.m. for the hearing referenced above. While the zoning commission received a request to withdraw the complaint initially filed against your dispensary by Dr. J. D’Angelo, the commission finds merit in the complaint as presented and as further supported by its independent investigation. Accordingly, the zoning commission has decided to hear the case, sua sponte. As per your rights under City Ordinance 25-23489(b), you may present your case for the legality of your proposed use, along with any supporting evidence you deem relevant.
Sincerely,
