Chapter 14 #2
Julian signals the bartender to refill our shots. When he turns to me, he’s grinning, slow and teasing. “Are you horny, Dr. Sunshine?”
“Ugh.” I jab an elbow into his ribs, but he doesn’t flinch. “If only you weren’t such an ass.”
“You know that didn’t work,” he says, a touch of smugness as his lips curl. “My ink did nothing for you.”
“The kiss was nice,” I counter, just to see his expression.
He chuckles, deep and lazy. “Of course it was. We’re both excellent kissers.”
I tilt my head, feigning thoughtfulness. “You don’t lick.”
He throws his head back laughing, the sound full and warm. “Oh, that’s a safe sex thing. Necessary, not preferred.”
Even when he drives me crazy, Julian’s presence is predictable, comforting. Our teasing leaves no mark, and our truth draws no blood. If we’d never kissed in med school, maybe it’d be different between us. Maybe that’s what happened to Nate and Tessa, they never kissed, so when they did—
“I like us this way. Team Neuro.” Julian’s voice drags me out of my thoughts. Some tension flickers through his shoulders. “Well.” He rubs the back of his neck, not meeting my eyes. “I was with a woman last Thursday. The condom broke. So … yeah. There’s that.”
I stare at him, waiting for him to laugh. “You’re serious.”
He nods.
“Well,” I drag the syllable, unsure what to say. “You all right?”
He lets out a shaky breath through puffed-out cheeks. “I have to get tested.”
“Anything I can do?”
His smirks. “Including testing support?”
“Especially testing support.” I squeeze his elbow closest to me.
“Anyway …” He bumps my hip, changing gears. “If you’re feeling … lonely, you don’t owe anyone an explanation.”
I laugh, the sound surprising me with how easy it feels in my chest. “Only to myself.”
Julian shrugs, a small, genuine smile replacing the smirk. “You owe orgasms to yourself.”
I laugh, but it dies somewhat quickly. “You think I’m ready?”
He just looks at me, eyes steady, kind. “Doesn’t matter what I think. All that matters is if you want to find out.”
I do want to find out. It’s not about touch, though, it’s about how I now don’t have to nurture Nate’s dream on top of my own.
I can be anywhere, anytime. Before I answer, the bartender slides a tray toward me, helping us load the shots, a bowl of lime wedges, and several saltshakers.
As we walk back, the noise from the patio rushes back in, loud and alive.
As I put the tray on the long table, Julian raises his glass toward the group. “To Robyn!”
I roll my eyes but clink anyway. The tequila travels down my throat, sweet, sour, and sharp enough to make my eyes water. Daniel reaches around me to grab the pitcher to refill his beer.
He glances over at the dartboard. “You were gone forever.” His grin widens. “I thought you were about to forfeit the game. I’d have won, you know?”
“I thought it’d be fun to dangle the win in front of you,” I say, stepping up beside him.
He tilts his head, voice dropping lower. “Show me then.”
“As if you could stop me.” I wink.
He only laughs, eyes bright under the low amber light.
His hair catches a gold edge, all ash blond and a little messy from the heat of the room.
He’s broad through the shoulders, with an athletic build.
Positioning behind the line, I aim and hit a decent single twenty.
Daniel tries, and the dart hits metal and bounces off the board.
I take the darts from him and move closer, my palm finding the solid muscle of his forearm as I nudge it upward. “Try like this. Elbow steady.”
My fingers graze warm skin. Moving upward, I place my hand on his shoulders and adjust him. He’s watching me now, not the dartboard, and a small smile plays at the corner of his mouth.
“Do it,” I say close to him.
“Bossy,” he murmurs.
“Efficient,” I counter, but my voice isn’t steady.
He throws without even looking at the board.
I chastise him with the click on my tongue. “You’re not even trying.”
“Oh, I really think I am.”
The air between us feels thick, buzzing, and for a beat too long, neither of us moves. He leans in slightly, close enough that I catch the scent of pine on his clothing and beer on his breath.
“Buttercup,” he says again, softer this time.
“That’s awful,” I whisper back.
He laughs quietly but doesn’t back away. The tension tilts—something about his nearness, the heat, the noise of the bar fading out. My heart flirts with tachycardia.
And just before he can close the distance, I step back, pulse fluttering in my throat. “Dance with me instead.”
His brow furrows for half a second, then the grin returns. “You sure that’s a fair trade?”
“No,” I say, grabbing his hand and bringing him toward the crowd. “But there’s privacy in the crowd.” I flick my eyes to the table where there’re at least three nurses starting the gossip on Daniel and me.
He laughs. The music swells, lights flicker, and for the first time all night, I stop thinking about what I should feel and just move. We weave back through the crowd, lights slicing across faces. The pulse of the bass is in sync with my blood pumping.
His thumb brushes my wrist, and he wraps his arm around my waist, steadying me against him. My breath catches for a second when the scent of his cologne mixes with the artificial smoke on the dance floor.
“You’ve got some tragic aim,” I say, sliding my arms up his chest.
“Only at darts.”
I arch my brow. “Am I supposed to take your word for it?”
He leans in, eyes glinting. “Let me show you?”
His hand rests on the small of my back, and the other curls around the back of my neck, tentative, but I don’t move away.
We aren’t even pretending to dance. His eyes find mine, and he traces his nose with mine, giving me one more chance to stop him.
When I don’t, his mouth lands on mine, warm and eager.
He isn’t forceful or clumsy, but his tongue dances around mine—it’s still too much, too fast. For a second, I let it happen.
His mouth is expertly careful, and I want to want this.
Then my pulse jumps wrong—palpitations, erratic and uneven. One beat slow, the next too fast. My chest tightens, guilt pressing down through bone and gut like a misplaced rhythm I can’t regulate. I’m not with Nate, and still—
I step back, breath unsteady. “I’m sorry. I just … can’t.”
Daniel blinks, startled but kind, hands lifted in soft retreat. “Hey, it’s okay.” He exhales, eyes gentler than I deserve. “I know a bit of what’s going on. My aim’s shit, but I’m a patient man.”
I nod and mumble something about needing air, then slip toward the patio. My pulse hasn’t leveled; it just beats wrong in new places. The cold night hits my cheeks, grounding and clean, the kind of chill that makes my skin prickle.
With my eyes closed, the image of Nate not moving away, his lips against someone else’s, and his hand on her waist makes my chest do that thing again: the offbeat thud of an arrhythmia, harmless maybe, psychosomatic probably, but impossible to ignore.
It stings, but not the way it used to. Not the kiss but the lingering stabbing reality that I miscalculated my entire future. Maybe that’s okay; I can focus on my own path. The ache shifts, dulls, steadying to baseline.
Tonight, all I can handle is flirting with who’s around. That’s enough for now. Underneath it lays the reminder of why I let Nate go.