6. Felix
FELIX
I s it possible to get a raging hangover from just one shot? My head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton and bricks at the same time, the dull ache behind my eyes pulsing in time with my heartbeat. I push my bedroom door open, heading for the bathroom in search of aspirin.
The hallway is silent, the kind of quiet that feels too intentional, like the whole house is holding its breath. I try to ignore the way my chest tightens with every step, the creeping suspicion that today is going to demand far more from me than I’m ready to give growing stronger with each passing second.
I barely have time to open the medicine cabinet before Ben’s voice cuts through the stillness like nails on a chalkboard.
“Well, look who decided to rejoin the living. The party animal returns!”
I glance over my shoulder to find him leaning against his bedroom doorframe, arms crossed and an infuriatingly smug grin plastered across his face. He looks far too awake for this early in the morning, his hair perfectly messy in the way only he can pull off.
“Not now, Ben,” I mumble, rummaging through the cabinet for painkillers.
“Oh no,” he says, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering into the bathroom. “Now is exactly the time.” His tone is light, but there’s a sharpness beneath it. “You’ve been acting weird all week. And today? Rumors are flying, man.”
My hand freezes mid-reach, hovering over a half-empty bottle of ibuprofen. His words hit me harder than they should. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, avoiding his gaze.
“What rumors?” I ask carefully, keeping my voice as neutral as I can manage.
Ben leans against the counter, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies me. “That you were at Julian Greco’s party last night. And not just at the party, but that you were with him. Like, with him. ” He laughs slightly, trying to ease the tension.
My stomach twists and the air suddenly feels too thick, but I force my expression to stay neutral. “Sounds like bullshit to me.”
Ben snorts. “Yeah, well, the thing about rumors is, they usually start from somewhere.” He tilts his head, his sharp brown eyes locking onto mine. “So? Were you?”
“Was I what? Fucking Julian at his party? No.”
“But are you dating him?” Ben insists.
I grab a bottle of water off the counter, twisting the cap harder than necessary, and take a long sip, using the motion to buy myself a few seconds to think. “It’s complicated.”
“That’s not a no.”
I sigh, leaning against the sink as I finally meet his gaze. “It’s not what you think.”
Ben doesn’t reply immediately. Instead, he watches me with that infuriatingly patient look he’s perfected over the years. It’s the kind of look that says he already knows the answer, but is waiting for me to admit it myself.
“Okay,” he says after a long pause, his voice softer. “So tell me what it is. Because right now, it looks like my best friend—the guy who swore off getting involved with anyone, especially rich assholes—is…well, getting involved with a rich asshole.”
“It’s not like that,” I snap, my voice sharper than I intended. The words echo in the small bathroom, and I immediately regret them. “I mean...it’s not supposed to be.”
Ben’s expression shifts, his teasing demeanor fading into something gentler. “Felix,” he says, his voice quieter now. “You know you can talk to me, right?”
I nod, swallowing hard against the lump rising in my throat.
“Come on,” he presses. “Is it something serious? Or is this just some...distraction thing?”
“It’s not serious,” I say quickly, too quickly, and I can see the skepticism flash across his face. The words feel like a lie even as they leave my mouth. “I’m just...investigating something. Julian happens to be part of it.”
“Investigating?” Ben raises an eyebrow and leans in slightly. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means I’m not ‘involved’ with him,” I say defensively. “Not the way people are saying.”
He doesn’t respond immediately, and the silence stretches unbearably for a moment. Then he tilts his head, his brow furrowing as he studies me.
“But you want to be.”
The statement isn’t a question, and it hits me like a punch to the gut. I flinch, and that’s all the confirmation Ben needs.
“Shit,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “You’ve got it bad.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
I groan, pushing away from the counter and pacing the small space of the bathroom. “Even if I did—which I don’t—it wouldn’t matter. He’s...Julian Greco. He’s everything I’ve spent my whole life avoiding.”
Ben’s gaze softens, his expression shifting into something more understanding. “Felix,” he says gently. “You’ve been through a lot, and I get why you don’t trust people easily. But if you’re this wound up about him...maybe there’s more to him than you think.”
His words cut through me, peeling back layers of defensiveness I didn’t even realize I’d put up.
“I don’t have time for this,” I mutter, grabbing my water bottle and heading for the door.
“Felix.”
I stop in the doorway, my back to him, my hand gripping the frame so tightly my knuckles turn white.
“Just...be careful, okay?” Ben’s voice is earnest, and when I glance back at him, his expression matches it.
“I always am,” I say, but we both know that’s not entirely true.
Once I’m back in my room, I close the door and lean against it, letting out a shaky breath. My thoughts are a tangled mess, each one louder and more overwhelming than the last.
Ben’s right—I’ve got it bad. And that’s exactly the problem. I slide down the door until I’m sitting on the floor with my head in my hands, the weight of my feelings crashing over me. How did I let myself get here? How did Julian Greco—the last person I should be thinking about—manage to carve out a space in my chest I can’t seem to close?
I stare at the water bottle in my hand, the cool condensation slick against my skin, and let out a bitter laugh. One shot, one night, one person, and everything I’ve worked to protect feels like it’s unraveling.
I don’t know what’s worse—how much I want him, or how much I hate that I do.
???
The walk to class feels longer than usual today. My feet move on autopilot, but my mind? It’s trapped on that damn balcony—the kiss, his lips, the way Julian’s breath felt warm against my face, the electric jolt when I realized I wasn’t pulling away…and that I didn’t want to.
I grip the strap of my bag tighter, trying to shake the memory loose. I’m a criminal justice major. I’m supposed to be focused, meticulous, the guy who reads between the lines. Not the guy making out with suspects—suspects who might be laundering money for their mafia families.
Guilt chews at me as I slip into my usual seat in lecture. The professor’s voice drones on about the legal implications of RICO cases, but all I can focus on is how I’ve completely compromised myself. How can I investigate Julian when the thought of his hands on me makes my pulse race?
I open my notebook, but instead of jotting down notes, I find myself sketching jagged lines, the pen pressing harder with each pass. My brain replays every detail of the balcony encounter: the city lights behind us, the sharp scent of vodka on his breath, the cocky way he dared me to look away.
I don’t know if I’m more angry at him or myself.
“Earth to Felix,” Ben whispers, nudging me.
I blink, realizing I’ve been staring at the same spot in my notebook for who knows how long. “What?”
“You good? You’ve been out of it all morning.”
“Yeah,” I lie, flipping to a fresh page. “Just didn’t sleep well.”
Ben gives me a skeptical look but doesn’t press, thank God.
After class, I try focusing on an essay that’s due soon, but even that doesn’t hold my attention. My phone buzzes and I almost ignore it, assuming it’s Ben or another group chat blowing up about finals.
But it’s not.
Julian: Hey. I owe you an apology. Meet me tonight? Rooftop bar on Fifth. 8PM.
I stare at the screen, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. I should say no. I should block his number. But my fingers betray me, typing out a simple, Fine.
???
The bar is upscale, its polished wood and soft lighting exuding a warmth that feels entirely at odds with the storm brewing inside me. Julian is already there, leaning casually against the railing overlooking the city, a drink in hand.
When he sees me, his face lights up with that maddeningly self-assured smile.
“Felix,” he says, like my name is a secret only he gets to say.
I don’t smile back. “You wanted to apologize?”
He gestures to the empty stool beside him. “Sit first. Drink?”
“I’ll pass.”
Julian shrugs and takes a sip of his whiskey. The ice clinks softly against the glass as he sets it down. For a moment we stand in silence, the hum of the city below filling the void. I’m not in the mood for games, and I’m about to say so when he finally speaks.
“About the other night…” His voice is quieter now, more subdued. “I messed up. I got carried away, and that’s on me. You didn’t ask for any of that.”
“No, I didn’t,” I say, the sharpness in my tone cutting through the space between us.
“But you didn’t stop me, either.”
I glare at him, heat rushing to my face. “That doesn’t mean?—”
“I know,” he interrupts, his voice softer now. “I know it doesn’t mean anything. I just...I’m sorry. My brother got into my head, and I...” He stops himself and shakes his head. “No, that doesn’t matter. I just wanted to apologize for being such a dick.”
His sincerity catches me off guard. I expected deflection, maybe even another smug comment, but this? This feels real.
“Why do you care so much?” I ask, crossing my arms.
Julian leans back, his eyes drifting to the skyline. “Because I like you.”
The words hang between us, simple but heavy.
“You don’t even know me,” I say, my voice quieter now.
“That’s fair,” he admits. “But I want to.”
The vulnerability in his tone disarms me. This isn’t the cocky quarterback who can charm his way out of anything. This is someone...honest.
“Why?” I ask, genuinely curious. “You could have anyone. Why me?”
Julian chuckles, a low, self-deprecating sound. “Because you’re the only person who doesn’t buy my bullshit.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I just look at him, searching for any hint of deceit. But all I see is a guy trying to tell me something he doesn’t quite know how to say. I should leave, cut this off before it becomes more complicated than it already is. But instead, I sit down, my resolve softening despite myself.
We talk for hours—about everything and nothing. He tells me about the pressure of living up to his family’s expectations and the suffocating weight of being the “golden boy.” He doesn’t mention the mafia outright, but his words are laced with enough hints to make me wonder.
And somehow, I find myself sharing pieces of my own life—how my mom worked two jobs to keep the lights on when I was a kid, how I can’t afford to screw up when so much depends on me. I mention my father’s death, but not exactly what happened to him. I can’t find the will to say it. I can’t talk about it out loud and make it all come back again.
“It’s exhausting, isn’t it?” Julian says quietly.
“What is?”
“Carrying it all.”
I nod, surprised by how much he seems to understand.
As the night deepens, the space between us shrinks. I don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, we’re standing closer, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the cool night air.
“Felix,” he says, his voice low and rough.
I look down at him, and before I can overthink it, his lips are on mine.
The kiss is so slow and deliberate that it feels like the world has stopped spinning. My hands grip the railing behind me as if letting go would send me spiraling. His hand caresses my jaw, and for some reason, my hand goes up to meet his. Julian’s tongue slips into my mouth, causing me to pull him closer to me by the belt loop of his jeans.
A surprised sound hums from his throat, like he wasn’t expecting me to reciprocate. But I can’t help it. For some reason, he undoes me. My resolve is in shambles. My brain only responds to his voice, his touch, his heat.
But then reality crashes back in. I release him and gently pull away. His cheeks are pink and his eyes are soft and wanting. My cock twitches at the sight. I want to bend him over the railing and?—
“What’s the matter?” Julian’s hands skim down my arms, scattering goosebumps across my skin.
“I—” God, I need him to stop touching me. I’m getting closer to him to find out his secrets. That’s all this is. “I need to think about this.”
He nods, his fingers grazing mine before falling away. “Take all the time you need.”
I don’t trust myself to say anything else. Without another word, I turn and walk away, leaving him standing there under the glow of the city lights.