3. Julia
Chapter Three
JULIA
Ouch.
My head hurts from drinking that cut-price champagne last night.
I’m not really a big drinker and the extra large coffee I’m clutching isn’t doing much to help so far to cope with my unfamiliar hangover.
It’s exacerbated by the fact I’ve had to help with a huge lily order for a party up at Peppermint Lodge.
Cue sneezes galore and that buzzing, throbbing sensation in my sinuses which feels like a bee armed with a small hammer is trying to break its way out of my face.
My Mom has also been giving me the side eye all morning.
How was I to know that it was a - recently returned, unbelievably attractive - member of the terrible Montag clan under that mask?
Although to be fair, “a rose by any other name would smell as sweet...” and all of that.
Whether he’s a Montag or a Brown or a Cruz he’d still be the most gorgeous guy in the whole of Snowflake.
That kiss!
I hide behind a huge vase to escape my Mom’s glare and imagine what would have happened if we hadn’t been disturbed. To be honest, it felt so good I would have happily stripped my clothes off behind that flower wall.
He hasn’t even seen me without my eye mask on.
Maybe he won’t be interested? Why am I thinking like we’re going to get together? He’s out of bounds - completely. Why does Roman have to be a Montag?
It’s so unfair. The one guy I’ve properly connected with and he has to be from that clan.
I had an on-off thing with a guy at college, it was fun but I never felt serious about him.
I had some boyfriends in school but again, nothing to write home about.
I guess in the back of my head, I have this romantic notion of “The One”. And that’s my Mom’s fault.
“You can quit staring at me Mom. I didn’t know who I was kissing, okay?” I pop my head around the side of the vase.
Her eyebrows fly up. Oh, dear. I’m in for a lecture. “Julia Caputo, number one why were you kissing some boy you’d barely met? And second, you must know what the Caputo brothers look like even if that particular one has been gone for a while. And c) why did you run away from that nice Mr. Paris?”
I start laughing. “And c)? Mom…”
“I’m not finished, Julia. I don't think you understand this is serious. You’ve upset your father and Ty is really angry.” She shakes her head sadly at me. I’m not having that.
“It’s not my fault Dad fell out with Mr. Montag.
And I’m not responsible for Ty’s rages. He gets angry about everything.
He threw his remote control through the window when it wouldn’t change the channel.
He’s got serious anger issues. Anyway surely the most adult thing for everyone to do is just sort this out? ” I look back at her.
She sighs and cuts the stem of a tulip. “It’s not that easy hon. There’s a lot of bad blood now. The longer it’s been left, the harder it is to make up.”
She adds the tulip to a bouquet and cuts a piece of ribbon. “So, what did you think of Mr. Paris?”
That’s a question I would rather not answer honestly. After the high of kissing Roman, having to stand clutching a warm glass of champagne and listen to Mr. Paris talk about finance was a step from the sublime to the ridiculous. He wasn’t awful, just average.
“He was fine, Mom.” I feel like hiding behind the vase again.
“Mr. Paris told your Dad he’d like to take you out for dinner. Don’t make that face. Look, Julia, he’s going to invest lots of money in Snowflake and letting him buy you a nice meal for free wouldn’t be hard, would it?” She looks at me expectantly.
I sigh. “My head hurts, I’m going to go get an aspirin.” I run up the stairs at the side of the main shop.
Upstairs is the little studio apartment where I’ve been staying since I came back from college.
It’s good to have my own space; I know my bedroom is always there at the family home but I like having my independence.
This apartment needs a makeover though. All the wiring was done in the 1960s and Ty, who’s an electrician, is meant to be fixing it but keeps putting it off.
This means the fuses blow regularly and there’s a weird humming noise coming from the lights.
I find the aspirin and chug a glass of water. It feels stuffy in here so I open the door to the little balcony which looks over the yard at the back. Cold fresh air floods in and clears my head. I step out onto it and take a deep breath.
“Julia?”
It’s Roman, standing in next door’s yard, looking like a god. Hopefully, he’s too far away to notice my scarecrow hair piled up in a bun and the dark circles under my eyes from last night’s party.
“Hey!” I wave down at him. “What are you doing down there?” I can’t think of anything more interesting to say with this hangover.
“Clearing some space. We’ve got a big delivery coming and we need to store it out here for a few days before we send it out. How are you doing?” I’m still too far away to see the color of his eyes properly.
“Okay. Had a little too much champagne last night.” I shade my eyes with my hand.
“Would you mind not doing that?” He’s gazing at me in a quizzical way.
“Do what?” I’m confused.
“I can’t see your eyes with your hand there. I didn’t get to see your face without that mask on last night. I’m enjoying it now.” He grins up at me.
“I’m not at my best today. I think the hand should stay.” This is such a ridiculous conversation but it doesn’t seem to be fazing him.
Roman walks up towards the shop at the back of his yard. There’s a fire ladder on his side. Oh no, what’s he doing?
Before I can say stop he’s climbing up to reach the balcony adjoining mine. For such a big guy, he’s surprisingly agile, almost athletic. Now we’re looking at each other eye to eye - well, almost, since he’s so much taller than I am. He reaches over and takes the hand shading my eyes in his.
“Your eyes are green. Beautiful.” He seems surprised. I’m not sure why. My heart starts to beat faster in my chest.
It’s hard not to stare at him. It’s even harder not to think about the kiss we had last night now he’s standing so close to me.
He smells freshly showered, his dark hair slightly falling into his eyes and his deep brown eyes locked on mine.
He’s still holding onto my hand and there’s an electric connection which is registering in his eyes, making his pupils darken and dilate.
“I’m not sure you’re allowed to do that.” I shake my head.
“Hold your hand? How come?” He keeps his hand covering mine.
“You’re a Montag. Alarm bells will go off or we’ll be struck by lightning or something.” I smile.
He smiles back. “Lightning wouldn’t stop me.”
My stomach flutters at his words and my heartbeat gets even faster. Why does he have this powerful effect on me? He’s so close.
“I think it’s my turn to ask the questions.” His hand is warm on mine in the cold air.
“Go ahead. But you already know who I am now.” I wish I’d at least brushed my hair before I came out here.
Why does this always happen? The first sign of a cute guy in ages and I’m hungover, in a raggedy old sweatshirt, even older jeans and a messy bun with bags under my eyes. Quite a contrast from last night.
“I’m Roman, you’re Julia. Sound familiar? Question one: does that mean we’re destined to be together?” He still has a hint of a smile on his handsome face.
It’s hard to get my head together while I’m still breathing in his scent and his hand is on mine, but I give it my best shot. “Well, since I studied Romeo and Juliet at college I’d say definitely not. Unless you like unhappy endings where we both die.” Oh shit. That’s going to kill the mood.
He doesn’t look fazed. “So you’re not a romantic then?”
“Is that question two?” I raise my eyebrows pointedly.
“Sure.” He’s looking at me expectantly.
“I am. I’m just not a fan of unhappy endings.” In between the hangover, coffee, aspirin and this crazy-cute guy, I’m probably being more honest than I’d normally be to a stranger. Well, a stranger who I’ve kissed. And am hoping to kiss again. I try not to stare too blatantly at his perfect lips.
“Okay. Question three. Shall we get married now or later?” He’s gazing steadily at me.
WTF?
“Uh...Roman. I’ve just met you. And the Montags and the Caputos are sworn enemies. And if you believe in Shakespeare - or fate - then this will end in tragedy.” I should stop staring at him. He’s still holding my hand.
“That kiss didn’t feel too tragic last night.
” He’s looking at my lips and I can’t help looking at his again.
He draws my hand forward so it’s resting on his chest and gently pulls me forward, so there’s only the low wrought iron barrier separating the two balconies, and us.
His other hand goes to the back of my neck as he inclines his head down and presses his lips against mine.
It’s even better than last night. His lips explore mine as if there’s all the time in the world and his hands curl themselves around my hair so I’m caught in his grasp.
My breathing is coming quickly as my hands reach up to his big shoulders, wondering if the rest of him is made on such a grand scale.
“Julia - what are you doing up there? I need a hand!” It’s my Mom shouting up the stairs. I pull away, even though it’s hard to let go of him.
“Roman, I have to go…” I grimace a little to show him I’m not happy about this.
“Same time tomorrow, my fair Julia?” He’s smiling again as if all this balcony stuff was the most natural thing in the world.
“Okay.” I give him a big smile back and go back inside. I hadn’t realized how cold it was out there and I start shivering now I’m away from him. Or maybe it’s just delayed shock at how unbelievably gorgeous he is.
If I could, I’d go back and press my body against him again to warm up. Roman, Roman, wherefore art thou Roman?
I need to snap out of this. Maybe cutting lilies and sneezing will help.
I head downstairs, my head still full of the perfect guy next door.