21-Lily
The other half of the bed is empty. I sink further under the covers, listening to clinking glass and running water from the kitchen.
For all of Julian’s worry, I’m sated rather than sore. After a bath and making love a second time, we fell asleep in each other’s arms. Can a girl be blamed for never wanting to leave her bed again?
“You’re awake.” Julian clears his throat, chasing the morning roughness awake. “A pot of coffee is brewing if you want some. Yogurt and fresh fruit, too.”
He even prepared my favorite breakfast. A glass of water with my medication sits on the bedside table.
I turn over and peel the comforter’s edges back. “You’re naked.”
Julian peers down at himself with mock surprise. “I haven’t worn clothes to bed in years. You’ll develop the same habit after hanging out with me. How do you feel?”
“Physically, I’m fine.” It isn’t the answer he’s looking for, but I’m afraid to go first.
He climbs in next to me and wiggles an arm under my neck. “Let’s try this again. I’m fantastic. How about you?”
“Equally fantastic.”
Julian strokes my lips with his thumb before replacing it with a soft kiss. It’s gentle, more of a morning greeting than anything else. “Is that all?”
“Are you worried about regrets? If so, the only regret is not summoning the courage to ask you earlier.” Maybe it’s for the best. We gave ourselves time to grow our trust and my comfort with the idea of asking. Julian pretends very well, but he struggles with intimacy as much as I do.
We both move, so we face each other. Julian lifts the comforter and peeks in to confirm I’m still naked. A pale pink flush spreads across his cheeks, and a self-satisfied grin appears. “I would have agreed, no matter when you asked. It’s strange, in a way. You’d appear, and once or twice, I wondered if you dressed up for me.”
“I found a different wardrobe, and it built my confidence. It’s a complete Hollywood cliche, isn’t it? Get the makeover, and suddenly, everything works out. There is some truth to it, at least for me.”
“It built up my lust,” Julian says, with no hint of shame. He tilts his head, amused at his own honesty. “You want to know what I think?”
“Always.”
“All you did was push up the timeframe because we’d have ended up here no matter what. We’re going to do this some more. A lot more, all the way until you tell me to stop. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, Lily, you’ve been in charge from the moment you kicked my ass at Mario Kart. I’m following wherever you lead.”
∞∞∞
“This is wonderful, Liam. The colors blend incredibly well.” I squat down beside the eight-year-old’s desk to get on his level. “The little cats are adorable.”
It’s a simple watercolor showing a rainy day with a family of cats, each wearing rain boots and hiding under an umbrella. Today’s art project was supposed to use cotton balls and dried rice to depict the rain, while Liam chose to paint it all on his own.
Liam doesn’t respond, but I don’t expect him to. “We’ll let it dry overnight, and then you can take it home to your parents. Did you enjoy making it?”
He hands over a card that displays an illustrated boy with shining eyes and a toothy grin.
“That’s great. You should be proud of yourself. Can I give you a fist bump before you return to class?”
Liam forms a fist, so I do the same. We stop just before touching, which is also expected.
I watch him leave, noting how similar his hair color is to Julian’s.
“You ready for the next class?” Ms. Terry asks as she comes up beside me. “They’ll be here in five minutes.”
I busy myself pulling out more supplies and wiping down the art desks, finishing right before another group of kids come in.
The routine continues until the school day ends. Unlike most schools, Horizons Academy doesn’t use loud bells to signal school start and stop times.
“My feet hurt.” Ms. Terry sits at one of the kid-sized desks, causing her knees to nearly hit her chest.
After starting my internship, she insisted I use her first name, but I couldn’t. Once you meet your teacher, using anything but their last name sounds wrong. It’s the same way some children experience shock after learning their teacher doesn’t always live at the school.
“Rest for a bit. I can clean this up,” I offer.
Ms. Terry stretches her arms and yawns. “I love my job, but sometimes I wish it came with a nap.”
“My day would stop if I took one.”
She watches me return the paint, markers, glue, and everything else to their respective storage bins.
“Lily, are you taking classes over the summer?”
Was I supposed to? My school counselor never mentioned it, but it’s possible I forgot. This is the sort of instruction that can be difficult to remember. “I don’t think so.”
She doesn’t pick up on my worry and calmly nods instead. “We’re running a summer camp here over the summer. It’s only five weeks, which means there’s time for you to take a vacation or work on other plans. Would you be interested?”
“I’m a little old,” I say, and she chuckles. “You mean a camp counselor?”
“There are a few part-time positions if you’re interested. We do community field trips, craft projects, that sort of thing. Would you be interested?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
I can’t wait to tell Julian.
∞∞∞
A single child psychology assignment should not be this difficult. One sentence. I can manage one sentence.
The screen blurs in front of me. Ms. Terry wants me to be a camp counselor, and the office is quiet. Julian should be in Texas by now since he’s Matteo Diaz’s spotter. He’s probably not even thinking about me.
One sentence.
I get up, pace to the far wall, and return to Julian’s desk. It doesn’t help. For once, going home won’t help either. It’s silent, giving my head even more room for random thoughts.
I have completed two paragraphs so far, which means there are still 98 to go. A giant F in red marker forms in my head.
“Lily, what are you doing here? With Julian in Texas, I figured you wouldn’t bother coming in,” Maddie says from the doorway.
Am I not supposed to be here without him? No one told me that, but I should have asked. “There are a few tasks remaining.”
It seemed a good idea. Someplace familiar, with the sound of people around, might give me the burst to write. My bedroom didn’t work, so why not here?
“Oh, that makes sense. It’s a full weekend for him. If you’ll be there, Sarah and I are getting together Saturday if you want to join us.”
I want Julian to strip off my clothes and fuck me again. “That sounds exciting. I’d love to.”
She leaves, and the school assignment once again tortures me. It shouldn’t be this difficult.
It would be inconsiderate to disturb him, and they’ll probably celebrate Matteo’s debut after. Plus, there’s the camp counselor job and my paper to write. It’s only one paper, and there’s plenty of time to work on it after making dinner and packing my bag.
One sentence.
The cursor blinks with condemnation.
I’m bored.
One sentence.
I think I’ll have cereal for dinner tonight.
Like a failure, I pick up the office phone and dial.
“Hey, what are you doing in that place?” The warmth in his voice relaxes me.
“It was supposed to help me work. It didn’t. Are you in Texas?”
“Arrived at the track an hour ago. The race starts soon. Are you watching?”
“Do I have to?” The school paper is more exciting.
He chuckles. “Not if you agree to watch me race tomorrow.”
“Deal. How was Talladega?”
Julian’s bored sigh answers the question. “The tire people put on tires and tell us drivers to go for a little drive. Then we come back and say it has a good grip or feels soft or whatever. Then it gets ignored, and we get surprised. Officially, quick fall off. You want to know the good part?”
“What?”
He makes a shushing sound into the phone. “Hold on, I need to make sure I’m not overheard. It gives me extra time at the track and a heads-up on tire wear. Boone Rivers won the past two years, and I’m going to beat him.”
“Scary Boone Rivers deserves to lose.”
“That’s what I’m saying. I’ll tell you what. Go home and get one good paragraph done on your paper. Do that, and we’ll celebrate with you kicking my ass at a game of your choice.”
“How did you know that’s why I called?”
“Because I know you.”
Something warm blooms in my stomach and spreads. “One good paragraph. I’ll be busy writing all weekend.”
“Go to my trailer when you arrive tomorrow, and I’ll help. You’ll get it finished. Oh, and one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Send me your flight information so I can change it. You need to be here earlier.”
I begin typing once the call ends. It’s only one paragraph.
∞∞∞
Texas Motor Speedway
“Wish me luck.”
“Break a leg.”
“I’m not an actor.” Julian laughs anyway before pulling on his helmet and climbing through the 33 car’s window.
I wave him off, even knowing he can’t see it.
“He hopes for a top-ten starting position tomorrow,” I say to my Dad, who stands beside me. I rest my hands on the wall by Julian’s pit box. He asked me to watch him race, which doesn’t include an endless series of qualifying runs. Plus, there’s a cursed paper waiting for me. “I’ll see you tonight, Dad.”
“Honey, wait.” Pete Webb is using that calm tone I used to dread. It’s rarer nowadays, but it still slips out occasionally. He uses it to explain truths to his anxious, inattentive, insecure daughter.
I pull a lock of hair out of my bun and start twiddling. He notices but, thankfully, refrains from my comment.
“Julian Murphy is a charming man,” Dad starts. I prefer a lecture over my hair. “Can I ask what’s between the two of you?”
“We’re friends, nothing else. If that changes, you know I will tell you. It won’t change.”
All of this is true. Despite our arrangement, Julian doesn’t want any long-term relationship. It took Sarah putting him on the spot for him even to consider inviting me over, after all. Besides, my lack of experience doesn’t make me foolish. Julian might love me a little, but he’ll never be in love.
I’ve dealt with loneliness before, and I’ll do it again when the time comes, even if it’s more difficult this time around.
Dad hesitates. Any talk of romance or relationships with his young daughter always makes him uncomfortable. Heck, he taught me about sex and puberty by dropping a book in my lap one day and following it up with a pained, “Let me know if you have any questions.” I had many questions, and many still wait for answers.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, feeling a sudden trickle of fear.
“Nothing, Lily. He’s older than you, and Julian has been with a lot of women.”
“I know.”
“Women have been in his trailer since the start of this season.”
I swallow. It’s one thing to intuitively understand and another to have it bluntly stated. Still, we have an arrangement, and I trust him. He’s earned it. “I’ll be careful, Dad. I promise.”
Everyone at RMS thinks of my dad as a grizzled old man, barking orders and making threats. To me, he’s merely Dad. He encouraged me to resume therapy and yelled at school administrators. It’s impossible to be angry with someone who only wants your happiness, even if it can be a tad suffocating.
“You deserve someone worthy of you. Someone loyal. That’s not him.”