Julian
TEN
Ihaven’t seen Xander look that way in years. Not at a woman.
Not at anything, really.
Usually, when we walk into a room, the reaction is predictable. Recognition first, then curiosity, then the shift, the subtle recalibration where people decide who we are to them. Some lean in. Some perform. Some pretend not to care while caring very loudly.
Women?
They’re usually the easiest variable in the equation.
They flirt. They test. They orbit.
Willow looks like she’d rather walk barefoot across broken glass than orbit anything.
And I think it might be my favorite thing I’ve seen all week.
I lean back against the kitchen counter, arms loose, watching her pretend she’s not aware of the way Xander’s attention keeps drifting back to her. Gravity has personally chosen sides.
She’s sitting on the stool Gabe offered her, one leg hooked casually around the base, drink in hand, expression carefully neutral in that way that screams I’m actively choosing not to react to this situation.
Which, for the record, is a reaction.
Xander’s across from her, posture controlled, fingers tapping intermittently against the counter because his brain is running ahead of him and his body is trying to catch up.
Gabe’s beside her, calm as ever, except for the fact that his knee is definitely touching hers and he definitely hasn’t moved it.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
I pop another fry into my mouth and decide, with absolute certainty, that I’m not letting this moment pass quietly.
Because where’s the fun in that?
“So,” I say, loud enough to cut cleanly through whatever invisible tension web they’ve got going on, “what’s happening tonight?”
Willow looks at me with wide, shocked eyes. “Tonight?”
“Yes,” I say. “The evening. The hours after the sun goes down. I’ve heard rumors they exist.”
She stares at me, then rolls her eyes. “You’ve been here three weeks and you still don’t know what people do in this town at night?”
“Correct,” I say easily. “We’ve been busy building an empire.”
“Ugh,” she mutters. “I hate that sentence.”
“Everyone does,” Gabe says mildly.
Xander doesn’t comment. He’s still watching her.
This is fantastic.
Willow sighs, like answering my question is physically taxing. “It’s Friday.”
I nod seriously. “Which is why I think there has to be something on.”
She glares at me. “Friday Night Live.”
I perk up. “That sounds promising.”
“It’s at Bennett’s,” she says. “Local bar. People play music. Nothing dramatic.”
I grin. “You lost me at ‘nothing dramatic.’”
“It’s not a spectacle,” she adds pointedly. “It’s just normal.”
“Define normal,” I say.
She gestures vaguely. “People drinking. Talking. Music. No one filming everything. No one screaming like they’re at a stadium.”
“So,” I say, glancing at Xander, then Gabe, then back at her, “a completely foreign concept.”
“Exactly.” She shoots me a pointed look. “My sister and I like the quiet fun.”
I clap my hands once. “Great. We’re going. Let’s all get ready.”
Willow freezes as if I’ve just suggested we rob a bank. “What?”
I push off the counter, already moving because momentum tends to do most of the work in these situations. “You said Friday Night Live. You said it’s tonight. You said you’re going. I’m just connecting the dots.”
“I didn’t say I was taking you,” she shoots back.
“You didn’t have to,” I reply, grabbing my jacket from the back of a chair as if this was always the plan. “You mentioned it in our presence. That’s basically an invitation.”
“That isn’t how invitations work.”
“Agree to disagree.”
Gabe sighs behind me, but I can hear the shift in it. Not resistance, more recalculating. He’s already deciding how this could work, how to keep it controlled.
Xander doesn’t say anything at all. He just moves.
Which tells me everything I need to know.
Willow watches the three of us as if she’s witnessing a very specific kind of disaster unfold in real time. “You’re joking.”
I glance back at her, halfway to the door. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
“Yes.”
“That’s fair,” I admit. “But I’m still not joking.”
“You can’t just…” she gestures vaguely between us and the entire house, trying to encompass everything we represent in one frustrated motion, “decide to go somewhere and then just go. I’m going with my sister, Nina.”
“And there’s nothing stopping us from coming along. Unless you think your sister will hate us?”
She opens her mouth.
Stops.
Closes it again, then shrugs.
Gabe smiles. “We’ll follow your lead.”
Her eyes snap to him. “Really? Because I’m not exactly dressed for it.”
Gabe’s eyes light up. “But you look incredible.”
She blinks at him. That wasn’t the direction she expected the conversation to go in. It throws her off for half a second, just enough that I see it happen. And yeah, that’s useful.
“Don’t do that,” she says, narrowing her eyes, trying to decide if he’s being sincere or strategic.
Gabe doesn’t even hesitate. “Do what?”
“Deflect.”
“I’m not deflecting,” he says calmly. “You said you weren’t dressed for it. I disagreed.”
Willow exhales, clearly annoyed that it landed at all. “That’s not the point.”
“Then what’s the point?” I jump in.
She looks at me. “The point is…” She shakes her head, giving up. “Never mind. You’re all a nightmare.”
“I’ve been called worse,” I say.
“I don’t doubt that.”
Gabe shifts beside her, giving her space without stepping away entirely. “We’ll keep it low profile.”
“You say that like it’s a thing you know how to do.”
“It is.”
She looks unconvinced.
Fair.
I lean a little closer. “Give us a chance.”
She reaches for her phone, already dialing as she pushes off the stool. “I need to call Nina.”
I watch her as she steps a little to the side, her whole demeanor shifting again as soon as the line connects.
“Hey,” she says.
There’s a pause, and even without hearing the other side, I can feel the energy change.
“Yeah, I’m still going,” she continues, then hesitates just enough to make this interesting. “But I’m bringing people.”
I glance at Gabe, and he exhales through his nose.
Xander’s completely still.
“I mean, the band.” Willow groans. “Yes, Xander, and the others.”
There’s a reaction on the other end, loud enough that I catch the tone, if not the words.
I smile.
“Yeah, those guys,” she says, looking like she’s already regretting every decision she’s made in the last five minutes.
Another pause. Then, she winces.
“No, Nina, don’t… just act normal.”
I bite back a laugh and look away, because that’s not a fight I need to get involved in.
“Of course, yes, I’m acting normal,” she mutters. “They invited themselves.”
I lift a hand in acknowledgment.
Gabe’s mouth twitches.
“Mmhmm,” Willow says into the phone, already over it. “We’re leaving now. We’ll be there in a bit.” Her shoulders drop a fraction. “Yeah. Okay. Bye.”
She hangs up and stares at the screen.
Then she looks up at us. “This is going to be something else.”
“Probably,” I say.
She points at me. “You’re enjoying this.”
“More than I should.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“It’s a strength.”
She shakes her head, grabbing her bag and heading toward the door. Xander falls in behind her without hesitation. Gabe pushes off the counter, smoother about it, but just as committed.
I follow last, because I enjoy watching things unfold.
The door opens, cool evening air slipping inside, carrying that bustle of the town settling into night.
Willow pauses on the threshold, glancing back at us one last time. Then, she sighs, and I just know tonight is going to be fun.