Chapter Sixteen
Alex
I was surprised when Jules said she was seeing someone.
At first, I was grateful that it wasn’t Emily or any other girl, but the more I heard about Brian and the more pictures I saw of them together, the more I disliked him.
There was never anything glaringly wrong.
It was just a feeling I couldn’t explain.
Like, he was wrong for her and undeserving of her time and affection.
Which isn’t fair, since I haven’t actually met him yet, but the more Jules talks about him, the more I wonder what she sees in him.
Chloe meets Brian in February when he surprises Jules with a Valentine’s Day and early birthday getaway at Claytor Lake.
When I ask Chole what she thinks of him, she says he seems great and that they’re cute together and that he treats her well.
When I try to press a little more, she shuts it down and assures me Jules is happy and that I should give Brian a fair shot before jumping on the hate train.
I hate to admit that she’s right.
So that’s what I do. I ask Jules questions, I seem interested and invested in their rapidly growing relationship.
And when Jules suggests we meet over spring break, my feigned enthusiasm is so realistic, I’m surprised I’m not nominated for an Oscar.
But when NYU’s break doesn’t align with Penn’s, I’m relieved.
It means avoiding meeting Brian for a little longer.
It’s bad enough seeing their date nights posted on social media and weekends spent cozying up at grand estates, but meeting him? No thanks.
Then, a few days later, Jules calls to tell me she and Brian will be in the city over their spring break, and next thing I know, I’m agreeing to a goddamn double date.
“How do I look?”
I glance up from my phone and do a double take. Trinity does a little spin, showcasing a gorgeous long-sleeved black dress that dips just enough to be teasing but not overly revealing. Her hair falls in large curls, and she poses in a way that shows off her brand-new matching pumps.
“You look great.” I stand and take her hands, giving her a little twirl so I can take another look. She motions to her zipper, and I carefully slide it up and place a gentle kiss on the side of her neck.
“Really?”
When she spins back around to face me, I pull her close. “Yes, really. You always look great. But this…” I lean in to kiss her, careful not to smudge her lipstick. “Is something else.” When I press my mouth to hers, she pushes my chest, stopping me. “What—”
“Is that what you’re wearing?” She makes a circle with her finger and slowly checks me out. But not in a sexy kind of way.
I inspect my clothes. “What’s wrong with this?”
She gives me a look that tells me I should know better. “You can’t wear jeans and Chucks to La Maison Lavande.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. Go change,” she instructs, stepping out of my hold and pointing to her bedroom.
“I didn’t bring anything fancy,” I whine, thinking about the few articles of clothing I shoved in my overnight bag. Despite knowing where we were going to eat, I really thought this sweater would be fine. Jules knows I don’t do overly fancy.
Guess this is Brian’s influence.
Trinity cups my chin and gently shakes my face. “Borrow something of mine.”
Begrudgingly, I do as I’m told. Not because I give a fuck about trying to make a good first impression or about the dress code of a fancy restaurant, but because looking nice is clearly important to Trinity.
I’m half-surprised when she doesn’t follow me into her room.
In fact, I would’ve preferred it. She could just tell me what to wear instead of making me stand here second-guessing myself.
I stare at the clothes in her closet, most of which are way fancier than I’d feel comfortable in, and finally decide on a silk black button-up and a pair of her black ankle boots.
I may have given up my Chucks, but I’ll be damned if I give up my jeans.
When I come back out, she immediately tucks in the front of the shirt and pulls it out a little in the front, then stands back to inspect. “Better. But we need to get you some nicer clothes. Especially if you’re going to start coming to some of my events.”
I sigh, not bothering to disagree, and grab my phone and wallet and shove them in my back pockets. As excited as I am to see Jules, I’m dreading the rest.
It doesn’t take long to get to the restaurant, but with no room to pull up at the door, we instruct the driver to drop us off a few buildings away.
When he stops and I get out, I run my hands along my jeans, suddenly nervous.
Not so much about meeting Brian but about seeing Jules with Brian.
The images of them on social media alone have wreaked havoc on me, irritating me for no apparent reason, so I have to believe seeing them in person will be even worse.
Torture, even.
I help Trinity out of the car and offer her my arm as we walk quickly in the direction of the restaurant, already ten minutes late due to me having to change, and anxious to get out of the mid-March wind.
Jules comes into view first. Her hands are shoved into the pockets of her long wool coat, and half her face is hidden underneath the soft red scarf I got her for her birthday. She also wears the matching red hat and a pair of blue flats.
Brian is next to her wearing leather gloves and an expensive-looking coat, his phone pressed to his ear.
Jules’s gaze finds mine almost instantly and she smiles. She taps Brian’s arm to motion that we’re here, and he ends the call and turns to face us. “You made it,” Jules says and goes first for Trinity, hugging her tightly and leaving Brian and me standing there, awkwardly sizing each other up.
He squares his shoulders and smiles or at least attempts one, and I nod.
The first thing I notice, besides the large amount of hair gel, is that he’s short.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that, it’s just, with most of the photos I’ve seen of them together, I thought he was taller.
He may have two inches on Jules and maybe half an inch on me.
She usually goes for the taller, more athletic guys.
Brian gives off more of an “I own a yacht” kind of vibe.
It’s weird.
The wind whips through his sculpted hair, freeing none of it from the gel, but he runs his fingers through it, anyway. Once he’s done, he extends his hand toward me. “You must be Alex. It’s nice to finally meet you. Julia talks about you all the time. I’m Brian.”
I shake his hand and keep eye contact. “Yeah, nice to meet you, too.”
He extends his hand to Trinity next, and she takes it at the same time Jules pulls me into a hug. The second her arms wrap around me, I release a long breath, put instantly at ease by her familiar perfume and comforting warmth.
“Sorry we’re late. It’s my fault.”
“It’s okay,” she says with her cheek pressed against mine. “I’m just glad you’re here.”
Me too, I want to say, but she’s already pulling away.
“Shall we?” Brian asks and motions to the entrance and holds open the door.
“I love your shoes,” Jules tells Trinity on our way inside.
“Thank you. I got them from this cute boutique not far from here. They have amazing clothes and shoes that aren’t horribly priced.”
Jules perks up. “Oh, what’s it called? Maybe I can stop by before heading back to Penn.”
Brian chuckles. “More shopping? Don’t you already have a pair just like that?”
“No, they’re totally different,” Jules insists. He makes a strangled sort of sound and gives her a look that I can’t really decipher, but it makes my hackles go up. “Brian doesn’t like heels,” she goes on to explain.
“That’s not true,” he argues. “I just said it’s weird for me to have to lean up to kiss you.”
“I have no problem leaning up to kiss someone.” I stand on my toes to drop a chaste kiss on Trinity’s lips to prove my point.
“But you’re also not a man,” he points out.
“I’m not?” I ask, the forever smartass. Jules clears her throat, trying to slice through the tension, but I can tell she’s slightly embarrassed.
And that pisses me off. Jules loves wearing heels, even when they kill her feet.
She shouldn’t have to wear flats just because her boyfriend has a Napolean complex.
Brian chuckles like what he just said wasn’t insulting. “And I know when I’m in the wrong. You’re right. Julia should wear what she wants.” He turns his attention to the hostess patiently waiting. “Reservation for Prescott.”
We follow the hostess to our table, and I try to get Jules’s attention because what the hell was that? But she won’t look at me. I don’t know if it’s because she’s still slightly embarrassed or if she’s mad at me for calling him out.
Probably both.
We’re led to a small square table toward the back, right against the large glass windows. Brian shoves his gloves inside his jacket pocket and takes Jules’s coat. She’s wearing a new blue dress. As if remembering our history with blue dresses, she glances at me, her cheeks turning pink.
He hands their coats to the hostess, and I do the same with mine and Trinity’s.
The server appears and takes our drink order.
The place is fancy, but it’s not, like, old person fancy.
Like, no one is giving us shit for reserving a table and still being too young to order alcohol. Well, all of us except Trinity.
It’s clean-looking, with shades of purple and gold trim. There are fresh flowers in the center of the table and an abundance of natural light, despite it being overcast. All and all, it’s not a place I would’ve picked, but it is pretty nice.
Brian gives his suggestions on the menu, interpreting some of the French words, and I try to give Jules a look over the menu that means “Does he not know we both speak French?” But Brian leans in and points a few things out, interpreting softly, and Jules nods along like she’s unable to read it herself. I roll my eyes.