Chapter Six
Julian
The apartment was silent. Too silent.
I stood in the middle of the living room, staring at the suitcase sitting by the door like it had personally offended me. Fully packed. Perfectly folded. Every detail in place. Of course it was. I wasn’t the type to throw things together last minute like a frantic tourist.
But still... I stared.
I hated this part. The waiting. The quiet before the noise.
My phone sat untouched on the counter behind me. No one to text. No one to call. Not that there was anyone I wanted to hear from. Not my parents. Especially not them.
I could almost hear my father’s voice in my head, tight and disgusted:
You’ll throw your life away chasing something that isn’t real.
You could’ve been something decent. Something useful. But no—modeling? You think that’s a future?
I shut my eyes, jaw tight.
I’d been barely nineteen when they’d shoved me out for good. Told me to get serious. Get straight. Get out.
And I had. I got out. I made myself into something they’d see on billboards and magazines. A face they couldn’t ignore. The perfect, untouchable Julian Vale. America’s sweetheart. The one who smiled pretty and pretended the camera wasn’t a loaded gun.
Except here, in my apartment, with no cameras—there was no act. Just the quiet. The heavy, goddamn quiet.
I let out a breath, dragging a hand down my face. God. A whole week abroad. A whole week of pretending. Smiling. Posing.
And now... Miles Bennett.
I rubbed the back of my neck, glaring at the suitcase like it was his fault.
Another forced collaboration to suffer through because Bradley insisted it’d “build chemistry” for the campaign.
Perfect.
My stomach twisted at the thought of all the fake smiles, the staged poses, the unbearable small talk.
A whole goddamn week of this.
I glanced at the clock. Morning would come fast. Too fast.
I sank onto the edge of the couch, dragging a hand through my hair. Just a few hours of sleep, then the circus would start all over again.
My eyes drifted back to the suitcase. Still sitting there. Still waiting.
Just like me.
Morning came fast. Too fast.
I moved through my apartment like clockwork—brushing my teeth, washing my face, stretching out the tension in my shoulders with slow, practiced ease. Everything in order. Everything controlled.
The kitchen was next. Black coffee. No sugar. No cream. I made the same breakfast I always did—eggs, spinach, avocado. One last quiet routine before a week of airports, hotel rooms, strangers, cameras... and him.
My phone buzzed sharply against the counter.
Lena: I’m downstairs. Don’t make me come up there and drag your moody ass out myself.
I snorted, tossing the last bite of egg into my mouth before grabbing my bag and slipping on my jacket.
Me: Coming. Keep your hair on.
I grabbed my suitcase by the door—the one that had stared me down all night—and pulled it behind me as I left.
Lena was leaning against her car, sunglasses perched on her head, coffee in hand, a knowing smirk curling her mouth. “Wow. On time and everything. Who are you and what have you done with Julian Vale?”
I shot her a look as I threw my bag into the trunk. “Don’t start.”
“Too late. It’s my God-given right to harass you before these trips.” She slid into the driver’s seat, glancing sideways as I buckled in beside her. “So. A whole week abroad. With Miles Bennett, no less.”
I groaned, head thunking against the headrest. “Don’t remind me.”
“Oh, come on,” she laughed. “He’s cute. And from what I hear, he’s actually nice. Like... sunshine-nice. Like puppy-nice.”
I made a gagging noise in the back of my throat. “Please. I don’t need a hyper puppy following me around for seven days straight.”
Lena snorted. “You’re such a grump. God forbid someone be nice to you without an agenda.”
I gave her a sideways glare, but she just grinned wider. Unbothered. She was the only one who could get away with this crap. “You could try it, you know,” she teased. “Being nice back. You might not die.”
“No promises.” I tugged my sleeve down, ignoring the way my chest tightened at the thought. Nice wasn’t safe. Nice was a crack in the armor. A waste of energy. “Let’s just get this over with.”
We fell into silence for a moment as the city blurred past the windows. The airport loomed closer. “You’ll survive,” Lena muttered, sipping her coffee. “Barely.”
“Barely,” I agreed under my breath.
When we pulled into the curbside drop-off, she turned to me with a smirk. “Try not to scare him too bad, huh?”
I rolled my eyes, grabbing my bag. “No promises.”
She laughed as I slammed the door behind me.
Airport noise swallowed me whole—car horns, engines, people shouting, rolling suitcases thumping along the pavement. The dull roar of too many lives moving at once.
And standing a little too brightly near the entrance, waving like he belonged in a toothpaste commercial... was Miles Bennett.
Of course he was early.
Of course he was grinning like this was the best day of his life.
I sighed, dragging my bag behind me, steeling myself.
This is going to be a very long flight.
I barely stepped onto the curb before he spoke.
“Mornin’, Vale!”
Miles grinned like this was some kind of reunion instead of the second time we’d ever crossed paths. He jogged the few steps to meet me, suitcase rattling behind him, light brown hair a mess like he’d forgotten to brush it. Like he’d rolled right out of bed and still managed to look stupidly alive.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Too much energy. Too much everything.
“Excited?” he asked, falling into step beside me like we’d planned this. Like he hadn’t spent the last shoot trying to make small talk I’d clearly wanted no part of.
“Thrilled,” I muttered, dragging my suitcase toward the sliding doors.
He chuckled, like I was joking. Like I was funny. God.
“I’m serious,” I added, glancing sideways. “If you’re planning to keep this golden retriever routine up for the whole trip, you’ll burn out before the plane lands.”
He blinked at me. Grinned wider. “Nah. I’ve got endless energy.”
Of course he did.
“Besides... I’ve decided I’m gonna win you over, Vale,” he said, voice easy, light, like this was the most normal conversation in the world. “I can see it. Deep down. You’re not as scary as you pretend to be.”
I stopped walking.
He froze beside me, smile faltering slightly. Just slightly.
I turned to him, letting my gaze drop to his for a beat too long. Low. Even. “You don’t know a damn thing about me, Bennett.”
For a second—a breath—he looked like he might back off. Like most people did when I pulled this tone out.
But then he smiled again. Smaller this time. Softer.
“Not yet,” he said quietly. “But I will.”
My jaw tightened, a strange weight curling in my chest I couldn’t quite shake. I huffed and turned away, dragging my suitcase through the doors.
“Long flight,” I muttered.
“Yup!” he chirped beside me, completely unaffected.
God help me.