23-Lily
“I’m glad you’re here,” Julian says.
It’s almost noon, and the company’s hospitality tent is busy. Everyone is stuffed inside, taking advantage of the fans and portable air. Several people hover over a buffet table while others stand by the open bar.
Usually, there’s no reason for me to come by, and there isn’t any reason for it now other than that Julian asked.
“You’re welcome.” I check out his dark khakis and company polo. The red highlights in Julian’s hair stand out against the gray shirt. His square jaw does, too, but that’s only because I find it sexy. “You’re dressed fancy.”
“This track always brings out the sponsors.” Julian nods towards the other attendees with his chin. “You’ll be able to leave soon.”
Everyone else is an older man eager for his garage tour and pit road access or an RMS employee. Boone Rivers and Dad talk to an older woman who occasionally glances our way.
“Who is that? She keeps staring at you,” I say.
Julian doesn’t look over before answering my question. “That is Harriett Blackwood. Maddie worked for her once. She’s a big sponsor who brings in other sponsors. With the third car launched this season, Boone is making a big play for other female-focused sponsors. She can do that for us.”
I mostly know the third driver as the girl who drives the pink car. It’s the prettiest one on the track, although being the only woman in a male-dominated sport like the Cup Series may not make her feel so appreciative.
As if mentioning her name, the older woman ends their conversation and trains her eyes on the two of us.
“Julian, she’s coming over here.” I didn’t know she existed two minutes ago, and now I’m nervous.
He stands, shoving the white plastic chair away, and moves so my view is blocked. “Good to see you again, Harriett.”
I follow Julian, not liking the idea of looking up at both of them.
“It’s always good to see me again, Julian. How are you?” She taps his cheek before pretending to notice me. “Well, who is this?”
The person Julian invited so he wouldn’t be alone with the mysterious Harriett Blackwood. “Lily.” There’s no point in giving her more information.
She’s attractive, with some frost in her blond hair. She wears a Land’s End blouse and crisp blue jeans, but the outfit feels contrived, especially with the three-inch heels.
Instinct, and maybe a little jealousy, causes me to hook my arm through Julian’s and hope my dad doesn’t notice. He’s already sniffing around the two of us.
“Ah, Lily. What a lovely name.” She puts her attention back on Julian. “How old are you, dear?”
I fan the spark of anger flickering in my belly, hoping to turn it up to a full-on flame. “None of your business.”
She ignores me and speaks to Julian instead. “I guess you and I have that in common. Of course, who am I to judge?”
“Judging is your favorite pastime,” he says. “Our respective ages are also none of your business. Is that all?”
It’s his turn to be ignored. “Be careful with him, darling. He’s a slippery one, although I see you’ve got him chained up well enough,” she says, referring to our interlinked arms. “If you catch him, I suppose it could be worse. Good luck, Julian. You’re finally growing up, aren’t you? I wondered if that would ever happen.”
She leaves us with no goodbye.
Earlier, I wanted to leave the suffocating tent, and now I fall into a chair because my legs don’t work. “You slept with her.”
“Once, a couple of years ago. She’s enjoyed teasing me over it ever since. Harriet is like that with everyone. She pokes to see if you’ll fight back. It’s a hobby of hers.”
“She needs another hobby.” One of the things I love most about Julian is that he never pokes or teases. He’s direct and always patient, especially with me. Younger me used to take even a harmless joke from friends in the worst possible way. My dad tried to explain that jokes between friends can sometimes be a way to show affection. It was hard to tell the difference between that and the schoolyard harassment I was subjected to.
“Do you want some food? Lily, you’re a little pale.”
The food is rich for the middle of the day, with heavy meats and some cream sauces. My stomach isn’t in the mood. “I have homework to do.”
Julian sits across from me. “I can’t leave.”
Of course, he can’t. It’s the day before a race, so he’ll be busy the entire afternoon and night. “That’s fine.”
“Are you angry?”
“At you? No.” It’s not possible to be angry with Julian. If there’s any anger, it’s directed towards myself.
“Are we still on for tonight?”
“When my homework is done.”
∞∞∞
Julian’s preferred baked chicken and brown rice dinner sits on the stovetop. Tonight’s vegetable, asparagus, is the only variant. Sometimes it’s broccoli, and other times it’s winter squash. That, along with his green smoothie, makes up most of his diet.
“Lily, please let that be you and not someone sent to annoy me,” he calls from the closed bedroom.
“It’s me.” I slip off my shoes right as Julian leaves his room. His dark gray gym shorts aren’t a surprise. The rest of his outfit, though… “You’re wearing a tank top.”
Julian lifts his arms, one at a time, to inspect his biceps. “It’s comfortable.” It also shows off his broad shoulders and muscular arms. “Sit down. I’ll start up the console.”
He sits beside me a moment later, but the controllers stay on the table. He puts an arm across my shoulders. “Did you watch me at qualifying today?”
“No, because it’s not a race, and there was homework to finish, so tomorrow would be open. Qualifying is boring, no offense.”
“Lots of offense taken,” he says, but with no proper bite to the words. Julian sighs, and his voice turns serious. “I want to tell you something that happened last night.”
Dread fills me. Ignorance isn’t bliss; it’s another form of misery. “What is it?”
“After Matteo’s race, he asked me to play his wingman, which I did. A woman made her interest known, which I think your dad saw. Nothing happened, and nothing would ever have happened. Not even a handshake. I’m keeping my promise to you, but it’s also possible Pete Webb will make some snarky comment about my loose morals, so I’m telling you now.”
Keeping his promise and not being interested isn’t the same thing. “He didn’t mention it.” We’ve also had little time to talk since I arrived this morning.
“Nothing happened,” he reiterates. “It’s important to be honest with you, and I don’t want secrets between us.”
“I believe you.” Julian relaxes, which surprises me. Did he expect a different reaction? “Thanks for telling me.”
He tilts my chin, and our eyes meet. I’ve stayed at his house twice now. We mutually agreed that nothing should happen while on the road. The risk of being caught was too high, and our conflicting schedules made it more difficult.
“Lily, give me more than that.”
What’s there to say? Julian never hid any previous relationship with me, and he’s stated his disinterest in anything long-term more than once. Both of those were revealed well before anything happened between us, so I know they’re true. My friendship and trust in him are why I asked him for more. Like Julian says, he’s taking all my firsts, and I can live with that. One day, it will end, and I’ll live with that, too. It’s easier to deal with heartbreak when you know it’s inevitable.
I’ll pick myself up, a little harder and much more experienced, and try again.
Someday.
“Dad kept my diagnosis from me for two months because he thought it would upset me. It’s like I was too fragile to hear the truth about myself. Once, when I was fifteen, I tried to explain how my brain works to a math teacher. People think it’s not real because I’m not hyper and because they can’t see that all the activity is in my head. So, this teacher tells me that when she can’t concentrate, she tells herself to focus really hard, and even made this gesture to demonstrate.” I tense my features and draw both hands into fists. “She believed a few deep breaths would cure me long enough to take a math test.”
“She didn’t believe you.” Julian draws me in closer, so my head rests on his chest.
“My point is, I know what it’s like not to be believed. You can argue your point and insist; all it means is that people believe you less or think you’re fragile. You’ve never done either with me. I trust you.”
He snorts. “Fragile.” Julian shakes his head, and his chin bumps my cheek. “I still remember us meeting up, and you decided to kick my ass over a video game. Your expression made it clear you wanted to destroy me. I’ll bet you would have sabotaged my car in the parking lot.”
“I don’t know how.”
Julian leans back and laughs. “Is that what would stop you?”
“It’s best I leave you wondering.”
“When you say fragile, the correct word is frightening.” He plays with my hair, pulling strands from their neat bun and twirling them between his fingers. “You left your shoes and panties at my house the last time you were over.”
“Is that where they are? I thought I lost them.”
“Where else would you lose them?”
I noticed my white sandals were missing. I meant to look for them but forgot. “School or the store. Anywhere, really.”
“How do you lose shoes at school?”
It’s me. I lose everything all the time. “It happens.”
“You can have the shoes back.”
I twist in Julian’s arms to stare up at him. He’s a beautiful man; everything about him is perfect. His square jaw and penetrating eyes leave a trail of swooning women wherever he goes.
Everything ends. It’s wise of me to remember that.
“Do you know how sexy you are right now?” he asks. “You are all the time. You wear the shortest skirts like they’re designed to tease me. I could flip them up and see what’s hiding underneath.” To prove it, his hand slides under my skirt, a red plaid one this time. “Should I do that?”
My heart thumps. “You should do that.”
“The door locks automatically. No one can get in right now, so we won’t be interrupted, and all the curtains are closed,” Julian says, like he wants to silence any objections before I can utter them.
His efforts encourage me further. He’s been gentle our two times together, to the point he barely considers his pleasure at all. The first time, we ended up in the bath and then shared several soft kisses before falling asleep.
The second time, he was a tad rougher and a touch more aggressive. It was bliss, even as a part of me still worries he’s holding back.
Even in bed, I’m fragile.
That woman we met, Harriett Blackwood, isn’t. She’d be unafraid to demand what she wants. It may have only been one time, but Julian gave it to her. The woman’s body language made that very clear.
Julian’s eyes roam my body, and his hands follow, softly stroking to relax me. I grab his chin, forcing him to look at me.
“You agreed I’m not fragile.” His eyes glaze as realization kicks in. “If you believe that, then show me.”