Chapter 18
MALIK
The dressing room door clicks shut behind Julian, the sound sharp in the sudden silence.
Crossing the room, I lean heavily on the counter, my fingers press into the edge, knuckles whitening as I stare up at my reflection, jaw tight, eyes too bright.
The mirror doesn’t lie. I look like a man who just got his heart handed back to him, still beating, still his, but trembling in his grip.
The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across my face, illuminating every crack in the composure I’ve spent years perfecting.
Philadelphia. The memory slams into me like a physical blow.
The weight of Julian’s body pressed into me, the urgent heat of his kiss as he let go and opened up for me, the way his hands had gripped my shirt like he was drowning and I was the only thing keeping him afloat.
I can still feel the ghost of his fingers pulling my shirt tight, the soft sound he made in the back of his throat.
Then, the door. The way he’d shoved me back, eyes wide with something like terror, before slamming it between us.
The finality of that sound had echoed for days, reverberating through empty hotel rooms and sold-out venues alike, a persistent reminder of the line crossed.
Tonight, he’d walked away again. This time with the look of uncertainty, fear, the ghost of something he couldn’t name in his eyes.
I’d let him go. I’d watched him go, just like before.
I told him I would wait, because I will wait.
The words still hang in the air between us, an offering I’m not sure he’s ready to accept.
I understand the difference between rejection and fear. I’ve tasted both, lived with both.
Julian isn’t pushing me away because he doesn’t want me.
He’s pushing me away because he’s terrified of what wanting me means.
His parents. His career. The way the world sees him, a Black man, a jazz pianist, a man who has spent his entire life curating an image of control, of respectability.
Being with me would shatter that carefully constructed facade.
Julian has spent his life believing that if he isn’t perfect, if he isn’t safe, he’ll lose everything.
That belief has carved itself into every decision he’s made, every note he’s played, every word he’s carefully chosen or withheld.
I exhale sharply, my breath fogging the mirror.
The reflection blurs, distorting my features into something unrecognizable.
I can’t let him be alone tonight. Not after what we shared.
Not after he let me see him, really see him, for the first time in years.
Not after I told him everything I’ve been dying to say for weeks.
I love him. The thought doesn’t surprise me anymore, it’s been living inside me too long, growing roots too deep to extract.
I push away from the vanity and grab my jacket, shrugging it on as I stride toward the door.
The hallway is a hive of activity, crew members and stagehands loading out equipment, their voices a distant hum in the background.
Someone calls my name, but I don’t turn.
Renee catches my eye as I pass, her brow furrowing in concern, lips parted as if to speak, but I don’t stop.
I can’t. If I stop, I’ll second-guess myself. If I stop, I’ll let fear win.
The night air is crisp as I step outside, the city lights bleeding into the pavement like watercolors.
My breath clouds in front of me, visible evidence of life continuing despite everything.
One of the members of my security team opens the door of my waiting car, his face carefully neutral despite the intensity he must see in mine.
The ride to the hotel is a haze of streetlights and the low hum of the radio, my fingers tapping restlessly against my thigh, playing out melodies only I can hear.
I don’t let myself think. Not yet. Thinking leads to doubt, and doubt leads to inaction.
The hotel lobby is quiet as I’m escorted through, the kind of hushed stillness that only exists when midnight looms. The night staff nod respectfully, their eyes lingering just a moment too long, recognition without intrusion.
I take the elevator up to my floor, my chest tight, my pulse hammering in my throat.
The door to my room clicks open, and I step inside, the weight of the last few hours pressing down on me like a physical force.
Stripping off my clothes, I step into the shower and let the hot water wash away the sweat of my performance.
Steam rises around me, cocooning me in temporary oblivion.
I tilt my head back, letting the spray wash over me, but it doesn’t erase the memory of Julian’s hands on my body, the way his breath had hitched when I’d wrapped him in my arms. The way he’d looked at me, like he was seeing me for the first time, eyes open wide, not a trace of hate within them.
Just fear and longing in equal measure. The way he stepped into my space and kissed me. I didn’t take the leap. He did.
I shut off the water and step out, wrapping a towel around my waist. Water droplets trace paths down my chest, pooling on the tile beneath my feet.
The mirror is fogged, but I don’t need to see my reflection to know what’s written there.
The same thing that’s been written there for years, you ruined everything once.
Destroyed your future with the man you love.
Don’t do it again. The warning has become a mantra, a rhythm that underlies every decision I make.
I dress quickly, pulling on a pair of sweats and a hoodie, my movements efficient, deliberate.
The fabric clings to my damp skin, but I barely notice the discomfort.
I don’t let myself hesitate. If I do, I’ll talk myself out of this.
I’ll retreat back into the safety of silence and distance.
I can’t, not tonight. Not when I’ve come this close to breaking through the walls Julian has built around himself.
The elevator ride to Julian’s floor is a blur of numbers and the tight coil of anticipation in my gut.
My hands flex at my sides, my breath shallow, catching on every inhale like I’ve forgotten how to perform this most basic function.
I don’t have a plan. I don’t know what I’m going to say.
All I know is that I can’t let him walk away again with uncertainty hanging between us like an unfinished melody.
I stop in front of his door and knock once.
The sound echoes in the hallway, too loud, too final.
My heart pounds in my chest, a rhythm only Julian has ever been able to inspire, my palms slick with sweat.
The seconds stretch into eternity as I wait, poised on the edge of something I can’t yet name.
The door opens. Julian stands there, his dark eyes wide, his hair slightly disheveled like he’s been gripping it tight between his fists.
He’s dressed down, sweatpants and a thin T-shirt that reveals the elegant lines of his collarbones, the kind of clothes that make him look younger, softer.
Vulnerable. By the calm expression on his face, I wonder if he knew I might come.
If he’s been waiting, caught in the same limbo that’s held me captive.
I can see it in the way his shoulders tense, in the way his fingers grip the edge of the door like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.
“Malik.” My name is a whisper on his lips, a question and a plea all at once. There’s a world of meaning in those two syllables, history and hurt and hope intertwined so tightly they’re impossible to separate.
I don’t wait for him to invite me in. I step forward, crowding him just enough to make my presence known, but not enough to make him feel trapped.
“I’m not here to force you into anything,” I say, my voice low, steady despite the storm raging inside me.
“I’m here because you shouldn’t be alone tonight. ”
Julian swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t shut the door either. That’s enough. It’s a beginning, a crack in the wall, a single note in what might become a symphony.
I reach out, my fingers brushing against his wrist, just enough to feel the rapid flutter of his pulse beneath the warm skin. “What do you need, Miles?”
His breath hitches at the nickname, his eyes flickering with something raw, something unguarded that he usually keeps carefully concealed.
“I—I need you,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper, the words hanging between us like a confession.
“I don’t want to think about what that means right now. I just need you.”
I nod, my thumb tracing slow circles over his pulse point, feeling the rhythm of his heart.
“I know. I’m not here to make you choose or force you to make declaration you’re not ready to make.
Not tonight.” I step closer, my body heat bleeding into his, the air between us charged with everything we’ve left unsaid.
“But I can’t force myself to step away from you. Not again.”
Julian’s breath shudders out of him, his eyes searching mine like he’s looking for a lie, for hesitation, for the trap he’s always convinced himself is waiting. He won’t find one. There’s nothing but truth between us now, raw and painful and beautiful.
I lean in, my lips brushing against his ear. “Let me in, Miles.”
A beat of silence stretches between us, thick with all the things we haven’t said, all the things we’re about to.
Then, slowly, Julian steps back, pulling the door open wider.
The movement is hesitant, like he’s still fighting the pull between what he wants and what he thinks he should do.
He’s not shutting me out and that’s all I need.