Page 37 of Shadows of Nightshade
I was more nervous about his impending arrival than the mysterious ghost. I’d only met Julian once. But he’d seemed gentle, and as Damen’s friend, I supposed I could trust him.
Still, their absence gave me a little while to decompress. Being forced to focus on the conversation was exhausting. Taking this moment to surround myself with nature—even within the glass-walled confines of the square nursery—had calmed me.
It was always this way, and after my last foster home… the woods became a place of escape.
A chill shot up my spine, and not from a ghost this time. But Irefused to let my thoughts drift into that space. I had enough to worry about at the moment.
In any other situation, it would have been a bad night. Being around a lot of people tended to trigger an aftermath of memories, and somehow Titus—as nice as he was—especially affected me. But tonight, I wasn’t going to be alone, and I was thankful for that.
Damen had taken charge, already planning out the evening’s activities without any input from me. Apparently, Julian was going to bring food. Then we’d lounge around and wait to see if my ghostly friends might make an appearance. Damen also suggested that I walk through the two areas of the house I hadn’t yet explored: the attic and the basement. And, apparently, that was it. No regard as to what came after.
Damen was not very good at making plans.
The doorbell rang, and I realized that I’d been standing motionless amongst the plants. I shook myself out of my daze and trudged through the house until I reached the entryway.
I stood on my tiptoes and looked through the peephole before I unlocked and opened the door.
“Hi,” I greeted Julian. What was he doing here so early?
He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Hello, Bianca.” Then he tugged on his navy blue scarf. It made me feel a little better to know that this meeting must be equally awkward for him as it was for me. “I think I might be early.”
He looked exhausted. There were heavy bags under his eyes, and his previous statement had ended with a yawn—which he’d tried, but failed, to cover. He noticed me watching him and blushed. “Sorry, I’ll come back later if you aren’t ready.”
“No,” I gestured for him to come into the house. “It’s all right.”
My heart was pounding. I was nervous. I would now bespending the next hour and a half alone with Julian! I was also disappointed because he hadn’t brought the food.
Julian sleepily thanked me and followed me into the living room before he sat on one of the velvet couches.
“Sorry again,” he repeated as he inspected the cozy, English-styled room. “I was able to get away from work earlier than expected and was in the area. I figured I might as well come over.”
I mumbled—again—that it was all right and took a seat across from him. I was unsure what to do now. This wasn’t my home, and I couldn’t just play hostess. I hadn’t gotten any groceries.
But maybe he’d want coffee?
I had no idea how to socialize.
Then, something he had said struck me. “Work?” I asked. “But I thought you were studying? I assumed you were a student.”
“I am,” he shot me a puzzled look. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his long, graceful legs at the ankles. “I’m in my last year of medical school and have picked up jobs on the side. The world still turns regardless of our personal lives.”
I was curious what he might mean—but then again, maybe it had something to do with Damen’s earlier statement about them all having paranormal abilities.
“What types of jobs?” I was curious. “Leg modeling?” or something else. I couldn’t just ask what his abilities were; that’d be inconsiderate.
I’d let him lead us into that conversation.
Julian, who’d been nodding off, jerked awake. “What?”
I was mortified by my own words. “Oh my goodness.” I couldn’t look at him. “It’s just that your legs are really nice and…”
What was I thinking? Men didn’t like to be complimented on such things. This was mortifying.
“I was just wondering what you do,” I finished lamely.
He made a sound, and I glanced up as he regained his composure. His forehead was pinched in confusion, as he watched me. “You think I’m… a model?”
“No,” I groaned. I knew I would never be able to take that statement back. “Could we pretend I never said anything?”
