Julian
SIXTEEN
Iknow something’s off before Xander even opens his mouth.
I’ve known him long enough to recognize the shift. The way he holds himself a little tighter. There’s a tension sitting under his skin he hasn’t decided what to do with yet.
We’re in the main room, late. The studios have gone still, the last of the engineers gone home, the air settling into that silence that always follows creation.
Gabe’s at the table, laptop open, glasses on, scrolling through something that might be numbers and probably is numbers, because that’s his love language.
I’m stretched out on the couch again, different day, same questionable life choices, spinning my guitar pick over my knuckles while I stare at the ceiling and think about absolutely nothing.
Which is a lie.
Because I’ve been thinking about Willow all day.
The way she laughs when she forgets not to. The way she looks at you, seeing right through whatever version of yourself you’re trying to sell.
It’s distracting.
And I don’t get distracted.
“Julian. Do you have a moment?”
I don’t move. “That depends. Is this a business conversation or a life-threatening one?”
Xander doesn’t take the bait. “Sit up.”
That gets my attention.
I roll onto my side, then push myself upright, letting my feet hit the floor. “Wow. Serious voice. Should I be worried?”
Gabe glances up briefly, then back to his screen. “Probably.”
“Great,” I say.
Xander’s standing by the window, hands in his pockets, staring out into the dark as if the trees are about to give him advice.
They won’t. They’re notoriously unhelpful.
He turns.
And there it is, that look. The one that means he’s already made a decision and now the rest of us just have to catch up.
“I slept with her,” he says.
I’m stunned into silence as he throws me into the deep end.
I blink once.
Gabe doesn’t look up, which is how I know he heard every word.
I expect more. Tension. Friction. Maybe even anger. Because that’s how this shit usually goes.
Except, it doesn’t.
I lean back, exhaling through my nose.
“Well,” I say. “That explains the mood.”
Xander watches me carefully, waiting for the reaction he’s used to getting.
I don’t give it to him.
Gabe finally closes his laptop with a click and looks up. “When did that happen?”
Xander shrugs one shoulder. “Yesterday, when we hung out at the lake.”
I huff a laugh. “Of course it was yesterday. Because I hung out with her first.”
Neither of them reacts, which is how I know this isn’t just a casual mention.
I sit forward, elbows on my knees, guitar pick still rolling between my fingers. “Okay. And?”
Xander’s jaw tightens. “And nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
Xander exhales. “It’s not like before.”
The room shifts, because we all know what “before” means.
Tours. Backstage. Nights that blurred into each other. Women who wanted something from us or thought they did. Moments that felt intense in the dark and meaningless in the morning.
We’ve shared before.
It was easy then. Detached. No one got hurt because no one expected anything real.
I tilt my head. “Yeah, I figured.”
Gabe’s gaze flicks to me. “You too?”
I shrug. “I’m not blind.”
Xander looks between us. “You’re both… what?”
“Interested,” Gabe says simply.
I grin faintly. “That’s one word for it.”
Xander’s eyes narrow. “Since when?”
I think about that. The walk. The laugh. The way she didn’t care who we were.
“Since she didn’t fall for any of my charm,” I say.
Gabe nods once. “Same. Maybe even from the very first moment I saw her. She just captivated me in a way I definitely wasn’t expecting.”
Xander runs a hand over the back of his neck. “This isn’t…”
He stops, like he doesn’t have the language for it.
“Casual?” I offer.
He nods.
Gabe leans forward, forearms resting on the table. “It can’t be. And it also can’t be competitive if we’re really going to talk about this.”
I tap the guitar pick against my thumb, thinking. “We’ve done this before, but not like this.”
“No,” Gabe agrees. “Not like this.”
I roll the pick between my fingers. “This isn’t about hooking up. Or passing time.”
“No,” Xander agrees.
Gabe’s gaze moves between us, piercing, assessing, weighing every angle. “Then we need to be clear about what it is.”
I huff a breath, leaning back. “That’s the problem. I don’t think any of us actually knows, yet.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Gabe says.
We both look at him.
He folds his hands together, calm, composed. But there’s something under it, more honest than he usually lets people see. “We know she’s not replaceable.”
Xander’s jaw tightens, but he nods once. “She’s not.”
I glance between them, then back down at the pick in my hand. “This isn’t just some kind of one-night stand, right?”
Gabe agrees. “No way.”
Xander shifts his weight, restless energy threading through him now. “And it worked because it didn’t matter. Because no one expected anything.”
“And she will,” Gabe says simply.
I shake my head. “I don’t even think it’s that. I don’t think she expects anything from us at all.”
“That’s exactly why this is different,” Gabe replies.
I drag a hand through my hair, exhaling. “So, what are we saying here?”
Gabe looks at Xander first. “You told us because you don’t want this to turn into something messy.”
Xander doesn’t deny it.
Gabe’s gaze shifts to me. “And because you already know we’re both involved, whether we’ve acted on it or not.”
I grin faintly. “You say that like it’s subtle.”
“It isn’t.”
I glance at Xander. “So?”
“For once,” he says, “I don’t want to ruin something before it even starts.”
Gabe nods once, decisive. “Then we don’t treat this like before.”
“No competition,” I add.
Xander is quieter, but it hits harder. “No taking choices away from her.”
I lean forward again, elbows on my knees. “So we’re… what? Just all going to show up and hope she doesn’t run in the opposite direction?”
A corner of Gabe’s mouth lifts. “That’s a strong possibility.”
I laugh under my breath. “Great. Love those odds.”
Xander doesn’t smile, but there’s a steadiness in him now. “We don’t overwhelm her.”
“We don’t lie to her, either,” Gabe adds.
I nod. “And if she says no?”
Neither of them hesitates.
“Then it’s no,” Xander says.
Gabe inclines his head. “Completely.”
I sit with that. Imagining her choosing us.
It feels good.
I spin the guitar pick once more, then flick it into the air and catch it. “Alright, then.”
Gabe raises a brow. “Alright?”
I grin. “Let’s find out if we’re completely insane or onto something.”
“Do we message her now?” Gabe asks.
Xander hesitates for half a second before pulling his phone out.
“What are you going to say?” I ask.
He glances up at me. “Not much.”
“Bold strategy.”
Gabe huffs. “Please don’t let him send something cryptic.”
“I’m not cryptic.”
“You’re literally always cryptic.”
I lean over, trying to see the screen. “Let me help. I’m charming.”
“Stay out of it,” Xander mutters.
Too late.
I catch a glimpse anyway.
Xander: Come to the house. We need to talk.
I wince. “Wow. Romantic.”
Gabe pinches the bridge of his nose. “Give me that.”
He reaches over, takes the phone from Xander before he can argue, and types something else.
I crane my neck again.
Xander: Come for dinner. We’d like to see you.
I nod approvingly. “Much better. Less like a mafia summoning.”
Xander takes the phone back, sends it before either of us can interfere again.
And then, we wait.