Page 18 of Entirely Yours
“You are quite literally identical.”
His phone dings and he pulls it out of his pocket, frowning. “Fucking red,” he mutters, before remembering that I’m standing here, waiting on his answer to my original question. “Oh, sorry. No, Julienis not here.”
Julien. I roll his full name around in my brain, loving the way it reverberates down to my toes.
“I would assume he’s still at school and then will probably go to his house,” Ben continues. “Want the address?”
“What? No. I—of course not.” I’m feeling absolutely ridiculous for thinking Jules would just be hanging out here on a weekday afternoon, so I turn around and wave over my shoulder. “Thanks anyway!”
Instead of spending the rest of the evening dwelling on that interaction, I talk Chloe and Dad into going down to the studio with me. Chloe has gotten really into window washing lately—four-year-olds are weird—so I know I can get her to help clean the studio.
We spend a few hours daydreaming, sweeping, and dancing around the studio. Well, Chloe and I dance. Dad walks around and pulls all of the rusted nails out of the wall, telling me multiple times that I need to go get a tetanus shot for my hand.
When it’s dinner time, we walk back home for a lovely meal of frozen pizza and apple juice. Later that night I tuck Chloe in, before returning to the studio with some paint samples. I’m hoping I can get the place up and running by spring break so I can offer trial dance camps to the local kids.
Daydreams carry me away as I think about possible camp themes, what class levels I should offer, and my never-ending to-do list. I’m lost in my head when I register a figure emerging from the shadows.
I’m so used to walking alone in Boston that my hand immediately reaches for my pepper spray before I realize that figure has a very familiar looking man bun.
I’d really like to tug that man bun out of its ponytail holder and run my hands through his thick, wavy?—
“Hey,” Jules says when he spots me walking toward him. “How’s your hand?”
His eyes dart toward my still bandaged hand then up to my lips before meeting my eyes.
I hold my injured hand up. “Still here.”
“Has a doctor looked at it?”
I groan. “I’ll go, okay? Everyone needs to get off my back about the shots.” I narrow my eyes. “Why are you here anyway? You’ve seen I’m alive, you can go now.” I know I’m being snippy, but I don’t know how to handle Jules. I don’t know what to do with these… thesefeelings.
His only response to me is to rub his hand over his scruff. Always so calm, cool, and collected.
Avoiding this interaction is preferable, but he’s blocking the door to the dance studio.
“Come have coffee with me.”
I look at my wrist with its non-existent watch. “It’s after eight o’clock.”
“I can make tea,” he continues, backtracking once he sees my nose scrunch up. “Or decaf coffee… Just come next door with me.”
Although I know this is a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea, I find my feet moving toward the coffee shop door before I register what’s happening.
I feel Jules’ sigh of relief as his hand comes to the small of my back. From that one touch, my body explodes. Heat radiating through my jacket and shirt, warming me in too many places.
I must be ovulating.
Jules guides me past the couch I was passed out on last night, and I notice a blood stain on the fabric. “Oh shit, that’s from me, isn’t it?” I ask. “I can replace the couch.” Though I have no idea where I’ll get the money for that.
“No worries, I was arguing with Ben about whether or not to toss it, and it looks like I win.”
“So… you own the coffee shop and you’re a teacher? Seems like those would have conflicting schedules.” I sit on the non-blood stained couch and watch as Jules grabs a few items from behind the counter and starts making a drink.
“How much has Ben told you?” he asks with—is that a hint of jealousy in his tone?
I narrow my eyes at Jules. “Ben hasn’t told me anything. Notice how I’m sitting in here with you, not Ben.”
Jules mutters something about a tea party before finally answering me. “I teach music up at the high school, but this will be my last year. My brothers and I just signed the lease on this place because Ethel, the previous owner, would only sell it if all three of us were in. That’s why Ben moved back. He’ll get it up and running while I finish out the school year. We’ve been up here testing recipes, I’d love to know what you think.”
