Page 137 of Holy Hearts
Pottery. Cycling. Japanese. Hip-hop dancing. And now… me. A phase to be worn until it no longer fits.
“You’re overthinking something again,” he says, his tone softer now. Almost coaxing.“Talk to me.”
I think of telling him everything. What the hell, right? It would save me the torture of getting more invested only to get my heart stomped on.
But I don’t. I can’t. For some reason, I feel the need to keep these feelings to myself. Not forever, but for now. I mean, what does he expect me to say? Does he expect me to hypothesize about the way he and Sophie have completely upended my life? Or the way they’ve carved a space in my heart that I didn’t even know was there? Or perhaps about the way I’m terrified that I’ll never really belong to them—not the way they belong to each other?
When I don’t answer, he sighs again, his frustration clear. “Kai, this relationship will only work if we’re open and communicating. Do you understand?”
The word “relationship” hooks me like a fish. It’s not the first time I’ve wondered if that’s what this is, but hearing him say it out loud throws me off-balance.
Looking at him now, so self-assured, so at ease, I suddenly feel hot all over. “Is that what this is? A relationship?”
Julian arches a brow, his expression bemused. “I suppose so. What else would it be?” I open my mouth to respond, but he continues before I can get the chance. “We’re having fun, right? It doesn’t need to be more complicated than that.”
And… there it is. That easy, casual tone he always defers to. The one that somehow feels like sandpaper against my raw nerves. I remember how he’d brush over any vulnerable feelings as teenagers. How he’d change the subject, or make a joke to diffuse the situation.
We’re having fun, right? It doesn’t need to be more complicated than that.
He says it like it’s obvious, like it’s the only way to approach this, and for the first time, it hits me just how different our perspectives might be.
“Right. Fun,” I echo, my voice flat.
“Isn’t it?” he presses, a hint of concern creeping into his expression. I force myself to nod, even though my stomach churns. “Kai?” His voice is firm now, pulling me out of my thoughts. He cups my chin, forcing me to look at him. “What do you need?”
The question lingers between us, and something inside me clenches.
I don’t know the answer. Maybe I don’t want to know.
But I know how to stop thinking.
Before I can stop myself, before I can unravel whatever this ache in my chest is, I slide off the chair, sinking to my knees in front of him.
I need to stop thinking. The only way to quiet the storm is to let him anchor me.
My heart hammers so loudly, I swear he can hear it. But I don’t look away.
Julian’s eyes darken as surprise flashes across his face, but it’s fleeting. His hand slips from my chin, trailing down to brush through my hair, gentle but deliberate. The touch is grounding, but it still feels like I’m grasping at smoke.
He’s right here, but I can’t shake the feeling that he’s inaccessible.
“Is this what you need?” he asks softly, his voice smooth, calm. Like he knows. Like he’s letting me have this even if neither of us fully understands why.
“Yes.”
The word escapes before I can think too hard about it, before I can drag myself back to whatever emotion I’m trying to outrun.
And as his fingers tighten ever so slightly in my hair, grounding me, I let the tension ease. Even if just for a moment.
His answering smile is slow, predatory—and it makes my stomach tighten. “Good.”
The door to my office is locked. I’m usually more cautious—it’s why I don’t play here—but it’s late, nearly five or six p.m., and the building is quiet, everyone else long gone for the day.
The meeting is across campus, anyway.
Lighten up,I tell myself.You’ve been grumpy all fucking day.
Julian slides his hands through my hair, gripping it just firmly enough to make me gasp in surprise. My heart is fuckinggalloping.I’ve never done this before, and until recently, never thought about doing this before. But I don’t hesitate as he unbuttons his pants. The sound of his belt and the rustling of fabric echoes loudly in the quiet room.
