Page 64 of The Player Penalty
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Julian’s preferred baked chicken and brown rice dinner sits on the stovetop. Tonight’s vegetable, asparagus, is the only variant. Sometimes it’s broccoli, and other times it’s winter squash. That, along with his green smoothie, makes up most of his diet.
“Lily, please let that be you and not someone sent to annoy me,” he calls from the closed bedroom.
“It’s me.” I slip off my shoes right as Julian leaves his room. His dark gray gym shorts aren’t a surprise. The rest of his outfit, though… “You’re wearing a tank top.”
Julian lifts his arms, one at a time, to inspect his biceps. “It’s comfortable.” It also shows off his broad shoulders and muscular arms. “Sit down. I’ll start up the console.”
He sits beside me a moment later, but the controllers stay on the table. He puts an arm across my shoulders. “Did you watch me at qualifying today?”
“No, because it’s not a race, and there was homework to finish, so tomorrow would be open. Qualifying is boring, no offense.”
“Lots of offense taken,” he says, but with no proper bite to the words. Julian sighs, and his voice turns serious. “I want to tell you something that happened last night.”
Dread fills me. Ignorance isn’t bliss; it’s another form of misery. “What is it?”
“After Matteo’s race, he asked me to play his wingman, which I did. A woman made her interest known, which I think your dad saw. Nothing happened, and nothing would ever have happened. Not even a handshake. I’m keeping my promise to you, but it’s also possible Pete Webb will make some snarky comment about my loose morals, so I’m telling you now.”
Keeping his promise and not being interested isn’t the same thing. “He didn’t mention it.” We’ve also had little time to talk since I arrived this morning.
“Nothing happened,” he reiterates. “It’s important to be honest with you, and I don’t want secrets between us.”
“I believe you.” Julian relaxes, which surprises me. Did he expect a different reaction? “Thanks for telling me.”
He tilts my chin, and our eyes meet. I’ve stayed at his house twice now. We mutually agreed that nothing should happen while on the road. The risk of being caught was too high, and our conflicting schedules made it more difficult.
“Lily, give me more than that.”
What’s there to say? Julian never hid any previous relationship with me, and he’s stated his disinterest in anything long-term more than once. Both of those were revealed wellbefore anything happened between us, so I know they’re true. My friendship and trust in him are why I asked him for more. Like Julian says, he’s taking all my firsts, and I can live with that. One day, it will end, and I’ll live with that, too. It’s easier to deal with heartbreak when you know it’s inevitable.
I’ll pick myself up, a little harder and much more experienced, and try again.
Someday.
“Dad kept my diagnosis from me for two months because he thought it would upset me. It’s like I was too fragile to hear the truth about myself. Once, when I was fifteen, I tried to explain how my brain works to a math teacher. People think it’s not real because I’m not hyper and because they can’t see that all the activity is in my head. So, this teacher tells me that when she can’t concentrate, she tells herself to focus really hard, and even made this gesture to demonstrate.” I tense my features and draw both hands into fists. “She believed a few deep breaths would cure me long enough to take a math test.”
“She didn’t believe you.” Julian draws me in closer, so my head rests on his chest.
“My point is, I know what it’s like not to be believed. You can argue your point and insist; all it means is that people believe you less or think you’re fragile. You’ve never done either with me. I trust you.”
He snorts. “Fragile.” Julian shakes his head, and his chin bumps my cheek. “I still remember us meeting up, and you decided to kick my ass over a video game. Your expression made it clear you wanted to destroy me. I’ll bet you would have sabotaged my car in the parking lot.”
“I don’t know how.”
Julian leans back and laughs. “Is that what would stop you?”
“It’s best I leave you wondering.”
“When you say fragile, the correct word is frightening.” He plays with my hair, pulling strands from their neat bun and twirling them between his fingers. “You left your shoes and panties at my house the last time you were over.”
“Is that where they are? I thought I lost them.”
“Where else would you lose them?”
I noticed my white sandals were missing. I meant to look for them but forgot. “School or the store. Anywhere, really.”
“How do you lose shoes at school?”
