Enamor (Hearts of Stone #3) (19 page)

We don't talk again. And for the first time ever, a beautiful girl falls asleep beside me, completely clothed. And I enjoy every second of it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Julia

G
ILES
IS
GONE
WHEN
I wake up. I lie still for a few minutes, wondering if maybe I dreamt it all. Wondering if I passed out from dehydration and my subconscious played tricks on me in an effort to give me closure. But my second pillow smells like him and the covers on that side are wrinkled in a way that tells me he slept in my bed last night.
 

Or maybe he didn't.
 

Maybe he only stayed until I fell asleep. Either way, it's strange that it happened. Stranger that I let it.
 

Forgiveness isn't something I do well. I can hold on to a grudge until the next ice age, and then use the heat from my anger to keep me warm. I'm trying to understand why I don't hate Giles the way I know I should. His apology should've been a pebble on bulletproof glass, but instead it was a bazooka, blasting through it without issue.
 

He caught me in a moment of weakness and then took me by surprise. His words were so genuine when he said he wanted to go back to how things were before. I didn't think we could. He toyed with me that night, knocked me down a few pegs. Then he came to my rescue and bled a little with his words. And I felt the truth of those words in myself, as well. Because whatever it is he's going through, whatever unintentional comfort I've provided, he's done the same for me.
 

I don't know how he managed to make me feel so comfortable around him, seeking his company after I swore I'd never let him come near me again. Last night wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been sick.
 

When he came to sit beside me in my bed, I was almost sure he would try something. I worried he'd try to test boundaries like I know he enjoys doing. But despite our proximity, everything about his movements was chaste and innocent. That brought my walls crumbling down, the ice in me shifted. Setting my head on his shoulder was precisely what I needed in the moment. It's ironic, that this guy who's seen me naked and has toyed with me in an awful way, could invoke a space where I no longer feel bare.

It occurs to me when I get out of bed that he might be somewhere in the house, maybe in his own room. But he's not. The house is empty, his car no longer in the driveway.

My throat is dry and there's a slight throb at my temples, clear signs that I'm dehydrated. I remedy the issue by chugging an entire bottle of water and spend the rest of the lamest weekend ever recovering from the day before. Getting freshly cooked food in my stomach and lots of liquids. The whole day, all I keep thinking is, I don't know what compelled me to answer Giles honestly during what should've been just a game. I revealed something I never thought I'd tell him, of all people.
 

But I'm glad I did.
 

When you hold in a secret long enough, it starts to become larger than life. A secret feeds on silence, growing limbs until it starts to control you. I learned that the hard way, but what I couldn't have known is the power of releasing a secret in an exhale of words. Just like when I shared with Lex, I felt better telling Giles, even if he didn't understand the significance of my confession. As soon as the words left my lips, I was a little bit lighter. A little bit stronger, even, because for a tiny moment, I owned it instead of letting it own me.

At work, I drag myself around behind the bar, not quite fully recovered. Lex entertains me with updates on Mr. Suit, whose name is actually Jeremy. He still comes to see her at work every so often, and I keep my lips pressed tight on my opinion of the guy. Lex seems enamored by him. Not just by him, but by what he seems to represent for her. She tells me she has no interest in dating guys our age. She likes her men mature, baggage free, and stable. And I gauge the reason is a lack of stability in her own past.
 

It has been just under five weeks since that first time Mr. Suit sat at my bar. And though she met him sometime before that, given he was already looking for her that day, I can't help but think she's erecting a fantasy around him. I worry about their nearly ten-year age gap, and how it could give him an advantage over her, psychologically. As mature and wise as Lex is, as much life experience as she might have, she's still a twenty-something-year-old college girl.

Lex asks me about my prank war and I tell her it's over. But I don't tell her what Giles did. It would be too difficult to explain why I forgave him. It would be impossible to put into words the way it just felt like the right thing to do, how my heart just believed his apology and hangs on the promise he'd never toy with me like that again. I know how stupid I'd sound. And that's why a part of me is afraid to even talk about Giles to Lex anymore.
 

On a practical level, I know I should keep my distance and not try to even broach a friendship with him. I know it's too risky, with him being the way he is and me being attracted to him the way I am. But the idea that he could continue to show me this new side of him is just too appealing to pull away from. I can't resist. He and I, we're drawn to each other in an almost reckless way.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Giles

I
T
COMES
AS
A
shock to everyone that I'd rather just head home than go out to dinner with the group. I haven't heard from Julia since I left her at home this morning, and I want to make sure she's all right.

When I walk into the house, I see her keys and purse on the counter, but the place is quiet. There's light streaming out from her bathroom door, which isn't closed all the way. I pause in the middle of the hall, listening for sounds of sickness. Instead, I swear I hear several sharp intakes of breath, followed by a sniffle.

I'm at the door before I even think twice. "Julia?"

"Shit," she whispers, and then there's the shuffling sound of someone getting to their feet.
 

"Can I—"
 

I'm already half pushing the door open when her face appears in the crack. She freezes when she sees me, and I'm rooted to the spot as well. Her eyes are slightly swollen, her nose red.

"No, don't come in," she says, trying to press the door closed.

But I stick my hand into the gap. "
Argh
," I cry out and she immediately pulls back. I take the opportunity to wedge myself into the room.

She turns her back almost instantly, not wanting me to see her face. I get the urge to set a hand on her shoulder, but I don't. She takes in a breath then turns to face me.

"Are you okay?" I ask, taking a step closer to her.

Her voice is a croak. "Yeah, allergies."
 

"Really? You look like you're crying."

She sniffles and presses the back of her hand to her nose, then her eyes start filling with tears right before my own. They widen with each passing second as though horrified at what's happening.

Then she spins around and rushes past me and into her room. I'm right behind her, and before she can shut the door, I catch it and follow her inside. She sits on the floor by the foot of her bed, and I stand by the doorway, watching as she covers her face and lowers it to her knees. From the side table, her phone pings with a message.

"Go," she says, clearly embarrassed.

I walk over and sit down beside her. She doesn't look up and she's still sniffling. "First you need to tell me, whose face do I have to pound?"

She lets out a startled chortle between her silent crying. "Mine, maybe." Sucking in a breath, she adds, "God, I should've handled this sooner."

Her phone rings, but she doesn't move. The ringing cuts off. Her uneven breathing, her silent crying, and the embarrassment cloaked thick in the air makes my heart ache.
 

"Hey, talk to me. Maybe I can help." I put my arm around her shoulder and she stiffens, but doesn't nudge me away.

She lifts her head, but lays her chin on her forearm, where her arms are crossed over her knees. Her face is wet, and tears continue to roll, but the only noise she makes is the occasional sniffle. She's staring out, straight faced.

Once again, her phone pings with a message. Followed by a few more. Whatever is going on, someone's trying to get a hold of her.

There's a big part of me that wants to press her for details. But if she wanted me to know, she would've told me by now.
 

Instead, I say, "You have the most dignified cry I've ever seen."

She snorts, then covers the lower half of her face with her hand.
 

"Seriously, your stoic crying is a thing of beauty."

"Shut up." Her voice is stuffy from her clogged nose.

I bring her head against my chest. She resists for a second before settling there.

"I'm sorry," I say. "For whatever is bothering you."

"Do you want to know?" she asks in a small voice.

I should say no. I should tell her that it doesn't matter and that I just want to be here for her. But instead, I say, "If you want to tell me."

"You remember that sex tape I told you about?"

"Yeah." How could I forget?

"It was taken without my permission. My ex-boyfriend had a hidden camera to record our first time together. He uploaded it to a revenge website after we broke up."

"Fuck." Anger pools in my veins that this guy could be so fucking pathetic to do that to her. To anyone.

She tilts her head forward in half a nod. "My uncle had the footage taken down."
 

"That's great, right?" I'm not sure I understand her reaction, why she's crying if the problem's been resolved.

She swallows. "Those are my friends trying to reach me to tell me that it's no longer on the website."

"How do they…?" I trail off.

"Exactly," she says, wiping her face. "How do they know? Because they've all seen it. Because they all know where to find it and have looked at it, God knows how many times. It's been up for months and I have no idea how many…" She doesn't finish her sentence and I don't want her to.