9. Julian
JULIAN
T he first time I recruit someone into the family’s operation, I tell myself it’ll be the last—a one-off, a necessity to keep the heat off me. But that was months ago, and now the lines I swore I’d never cross are blurry at best.
I’m spending more time at the “sporting goods store”—the convenient euphemism for the money-laundering scheme running through my family like the blood in our veins. Business is booming, and my father sees an untapped goldmine in my position at Valmont College.
“Students are easy marks,” Elijah says one evening, justifying the growing pressure. “Broke, desperate, willing to look the other way for quick cash. You’d be stupid not to use that.”
I hate him for saying it because he isn’t wrong.
The campus cafeteria becomes my hunting ground, the perfect place to overhear complaints about money, rising tuition, or unpaid internships. I’m not proud of it, but I’m damn good at spotting the students who’ll bite without asking too many questions.
Like Brendan, a junior studying finance whose internship fell through last summer. He’s drowning in debt and trying to save face with his frat brothers. When I casually mention a “side hustle” that pays in cash, he practically begs for details.
Or Professor Acker, who was on the verge of retirement until he found out his pension isn’t what he hoped. I spin it as a harmless favor—running “inventory checks” for the store in exchange for a generous cut.
He never asks what the inventory is.
They don’t want to know. That’s the secret to all of this. People crave plausible deniability, and I give it to them, wrapped in a neat little bow.
Today, I’m meeting someone new, a sophomore named Tasha who works part-time at the library and barely makes enough to cover rent. She’s bright, ambitious, and exactly the kind of person I hate pulling into this mess. But when she sits across from me at the campus café, her wide eyes betray how much she needs this.
“So...what’s the job, exactly?” she asks, stirring her coffee nervously.
“Simple,” I say casually. “We just need someone to run errands for the store—pick up inventory, deliver invoices. That sort of thing.”
“And it pays...how much?”
“More than your library gig,” I say with a smirk. “A lot more.”
She hesitates, her fingers tapping the edge of her cup. “It’s legal, right?”
“Of course,” I lie, the words sliding off my tongue with practiced ease.
She nods slowly. “Okay. I’m in.”
I smile, the familiar churn of guilt rising in my chest. “Welcome to the team.”
By the time I leave campus, the rain is coming down in sheets, drenching the streets and turning the city into a blur of lights and water. I pull the hood of my sweatshirt up, shoving my hands into my pockets as I make my way across town.
I don’t know why I’m doing this. Hell, I know exactly why, but admitting it feels like crossing another line I’m not ready for.
Felix hasn’t spoken to me in days, not since that night in the library. At first, I think he’s just busy—midterms are around the corner, and he has a lot riding on his GPA. But now?
Now it feels like something else entirely.
He doesn’t answer my texts, not even the harmless ones about upcoming assignments. I catch glimpses of him on campus, but every time I try to approach him, he ducks into a classroom or vanishes into the crowd.
It’s not like him. Felix isn’t the type to avoid confrontation, which only makes his silence sting more.
I tell myself it doesn’t matter, that I have bigger problems to deal with. But I can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted between us. Something I can’t fix with a smooth line or an easy apology.
Felix’s apartment building looms ahead, a nondescript brick structure tucked between a laundromat and a corner store. I linger across the street, half-hidden beneath the awning of an empty bus stop.
His window is lit, the faint glow spilling out onto the wet pavement. Through the glass, I see him moving around—barefoot in sweats, his hair damp like he just showered. He looks…normal.
Comfortable.
Safe.
I shouldn’t have come. This isn’t safe—for either of us. But I can’t tear my eyes away. Felix sits down on the worn couch, a book in hand. The faintest smile tugs at his lips as he reads, and for a moment, the storm raging inside me quiets.
But then my mind races. Why isn’t he talking to me? Has he figured something out? Did someone say something? A bitter voice in the back of my head whispers that my father or Elijah could have done something without telling me. I press my forehead against the cold metal pole of the bus stop, letting the rain drip off the edges of my hood. What am I doing here? He deserves better than this. Better than me .
My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it. I already know it’s Elijah, or worse, my father, demanding updates. Demanding compliance.
I cross the street and press the buzzer for his unit, my finger lingering too long. A part of me hopes he won’t answer, that he’ll keep the door shut and save us both from what this is bound to turn into.
But the intercom crackles to life. “Who is it?”
“It’s me,” I say, my voice sharper than I intended.
There’s a pause. Too long of a pause.
“I’m busy, Julian.”
I exhale, frustration bubbling under my skin. “Open the door, Felix. Please.”
Another pause. Then, with a metallic click, the door buzzes open.
He stands in the doorway of his apartment, arms crossed and sweats hung low on his hips. His hair is still damp, like he hasn’t been out of the shower long enough for it to dry completely.
“You’re soaked,” he says flatly.
“You gonna invite me in, or are we doing this in the hallway?”
Felix sighs and steps aside, letting me enter. The warmth of the apartment is a stark contrast to the chill outside, but it does nothing to ease the tension coiling in my chest.
“What do you want, Julian?” he asks as he closes the door behind me.
“To talk. You’ve been avoiding me, and I want to know why.”
Felix’s lips press into a thin line, his jaw tight. “I’ve been busy. School, work, you know—life.”
“Bullshit,” I say, stepping closer. “This isn’t just about being busy. You won’t answer my texts, and when I try to talk to you on campus, you practically sprint in the other direction.”
“I don’t owe you an explanation,” he shoots back, his voice rising.
“You don’t owe me one, but I’d like one anyway,” I snap. “What’s going on, Felix?”
His eyes flicker, a crack in his otherwise guarded expression. He turns away, walking toward the small kitchen counter as if the distance might help.
“This has nothing to do with you,” he says finally, his back to me. But his eyes look away, like that’s a lie.
“Then what is it?” I press, closing the space between us. “Because if this is about what happened in the library, I told you it was footba?—”
“Stop,” he cuts in, turning to face me. “Don’t fucking lie to me.”
I can see the conflict written all over him—the way his hands clench at his sides, his gaze darting everywhere but to me.
“Felix,” I say, softer now.
“I can’t,” he says, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Something in his tone makes my stomach drop. “Try me.”
He looks at me then, really looks at me, and for a moment, I think he might actually tell me what’s going on. But instead, he laughs—a bitter, hollow sound.
“You’re the last person I can talk to about this,” he says.
The words sting, and I don’t know whether it’s the accusation or the truth in them that hits harder. “Why?”
“Because you’re a liar, Julian,” he says, his voice trembling. “You lie about everything. And I can’t…I can’t trust you.”
It’s like a slap to the face, but I don’t back down. I step closer, close enough to see the storm in his eyes.
“You don’t mean that,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “If I could tell you I would, but?—”
“Why won’t you let me help you?” he shouts. He doesn’t seem angry, though. He looks...worried. “I have a theory about what’s going on with you, Julian. Just tell me the truth and we can figure this out.”
My heart hammers against my chest, anxiety and a weird sense of relief flooding my body. He knows? How could he know? Did someone mention the job I offered them?
The silence between us crackles with tension.
Before I can stop myself, I reach for him, my hand brushing his cheek. “No, because once I do, you’ll be in danger. And I can’t bear that.”
“Let me make that choice,” Felix snaps, but he doesn’t move away.
“Why do you want to help me so bad? Just believe me. Your life will be so much easier if you just fucking believe me.” I lean my forehead against his, pleading.
“Because...” Felix whispers, his hands gripping the soaked sleeves of my hoodie. “Julian.” He sighs my name so gently it feels like a caress against my skin.
And then, like a thread snapping, the space between us disappears.
I kiss him, hard and desperate, like it might be the last time. He kisses me back just as fiercely, his hands fisting in my damp hair.
The next few moments blur together—our breaths mingling, his body pressed against mine, the taste of him intoxicating me. My hoodie hits the floor, followed by his shirt, and then he’s pulling me into his bedroom. I kick the door shut as I tug my shirt over my head.
Felix shoves me onto the bed, fumbling with the button and zipper of my jeans.
“Felix,” I whimper as my cock springs free.
He throws my pants to the floor, leaving me exposed against his bedsheets. He spits into his hand and rubs my shaft, making it slick and wet.
I groan as Felix’s hand moves faster against me. I pull the ties of his sweatpants, causing them to drop even lower so I can slip my hand into his pants to feel his thick dick in my hand. His head lolls to the side as he pulls his waistband down, knocks my hand away, and begins stroking both of our lengths in one hand.
I hiss as I feel him wet and angry against me.
“Tell me the truth, Julian,” he says roughly in my ear, his hand moving faster against us.
I pull him down to meet my mouth, trying to distract him with a sweep of my tongue. Felix pulls away and pushes my knees against my chest. I can feel the head of his penis teasing my hole.
“Please, Felix,” I beg. I’m not entirely sure if I’m asking him to stop asking questions or to drive into me.
“Tell me the truth and I’ll fuck you as long and hard as you want, baby.” He slaps his cock against my ass, his eyes dark and pleading. His hands are all over me, teasing me, tempting me. I almost spill everything because my need for him is so strong. Then reality crashes back in.
As much as I want him inside me, as much as I want his skin to be sticky with my cum, I can’t tell him. I can’t risk his life for this.
My voice is rough and broken as I say, “I can’t.”
Felix’s shoulders slump slightly. He pulls away from me and yanks his sweatpants up. “I can’t do this anymore, Julian.” He pinches the bridge of his nose before saying quietly, “Please leave.”
My skin is cold from the sudden lack of his heat as I grab my clothes and quickly pull them on. “Felix, it’s better this way.”
Felix doesn’t look at me, his eyes staring out of the window instead. “Get out.”
The ache in my chest is worse than any of the beatings I’ve taken. Without another word I grab my hoodie from the living room and leave, the door clicking shut behind me. The rain is still falling as I step out into the street, but this time, I welcome it.