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Seven
Magnolia
“Julian Haites couldn’t get enough of you,” Taura says to this month’s issue of Vogue, which her nose is buried in.
She and my sister are laying on my bed as I’m sifting through all the clothes I left behind here to see if there are any worth bringing back with me. My pink dress. This should probably be in a vault, not my closet. It’s far too important.
“He’s just friendly.” I give her a look.
“No, he’s not,” Bridget clarifies. “You’re just leggy. And he thinks you’re the one who got away.”
I scoff. “I am not.”
“Are too.” Taura glances up. “Daisy told me.”
I peer over at her, curious. Though I’d never go there. With Julian I’ve always known I could, but also, I couldn’t.
For one, BJ would be so angry. And two, he’s dangerous.
Handsome though. Like, painfully so.
Dark blue eyes. Really dark blonde, almost brown hair. Scruffy beard. Very serious eyebrows — the kind of man you double-take.
Apparently he’s the most dangerous man in every room so you’d double-take him anyway out of fear for your life, but you’d mostly just do it because he’s beautiful.
Taura’s watching me closely. Her eyes pinch, amused.
“He’s a ledge in the sack,” she tells me.
Bridget shakes her head adamantly. “Magnolia, do not even think about it—”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not.”
“He is though,” Taura insists.
Bridget’s eyes pinch. “Well, so, how good?”
Taura gives her a look. “Good.”
“What makes him so good?” I perch on the edge of my bed.
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “He’s just good?”
“Better than BJ?” Bridget asks nosily.
They both glance over at me, Taura with some discomfort and remorse, Bridge with the annoying indifference only a sibling can sport.
“On par,” Taura considers. “Probably better — a bit.”
That surprises me because BJ is… BJ. Everything about him oozes sex appeal. He’s accidentally romancing the pants off of everyone at all times — he’s practically fabled.
I press my hands into my cheeks absentmindedly.
I’m nervous about meeting up with BJ, I don’t know why. You’d think I’d want this… the ‘sorry’ I assume I’m getting. For him to clear the air, make it better.
I do, but it makes me nervous because either way, it means something.
Either he’s clearing the air because he’s moving on and that’s how you do it, or he’s clearing the air to move forward, he and I.
