73 — JULIAN ADAMS (POV)

*(…) If you just want sex, stop acting like this… Like it's not just sex… Like you have feelings for me.*
Feelings for Angelee?
No, I don't have feelings for her…
I mean… She's my best friend's daughter… And that's just lustful, physical attraction, right? It's not like I'm… in love with her or anything… Right?
I'm staring at the ceiling. How long have I been stuck in this room? Honestly, I don't know… But I'm thinking about those words so much that I'm bitter.
My eyes are burning. I'm scratching them, but the feeling doesn't ease, it only gets worse. I feel like a walking mess, and I can't understand why.
Hah, I need to drink, to get out of this damn apartment that seems to have a piece of Angelee in every corner.
Fumbling in my pants pocket for my phone, I take it and type a message to Mike… But just as I'm about to press the SEND button, my finger stops in midair… Maybe I should just knock on his door…?
My shoulders are tense and every muscle in my body is stiff when I give up and stand.
*Yes, that's it, I'm just going to knock on his door and ask him out, that's all.*
I run my hand over my face, massaging my temples…. And make my decision. So I walk out of my apartment quickly, with steps so wide that I'm surprised that I'm already in front of their door.
My chest is tight, so much so that I catch myself gripping the fabric of my shirt with my trembling fingers. My throat is also narrow, so much so that I have to swallow hard before I muster up the courage and ring the doorbell.
I hear footsteps inside the apartment, light footsteps that don't belong to my best friend. And that makes my heart beat even faster. It makes me anxious — *nervous.* I run my hand through my hair, brushing the blonde strands back, and adjust my collar quickly while I hold my breath because heavens, she's opening the door and I wouldn't be surprised if my heart stopped now.
And when it finally opens, I can see Angelee with her hair done, a hairstyle that ties up part of it. She's wearing discreet makeup and earrings that highlight the beauty of her brown eyes… And her outfit… she's wearing a tight, low-cut, knee-length brown dress that makes me feel worse.
“Are you going out?” The words just come out of my mouth, so unconscious that I surprise myself for having said them. I swallow hard, open my lips, then force a smile, “Is it a date?”
I notice how Angelee holds the doorknob firmly and lifts her face slightly, looking me in the eye, “Yes, it is.”
*Ouch.*
What the hell is this feeling?
“Oh, really?” I struggle to keep the smile, even though my chest and stomach, and whole body are cold. “That's good… You look beautiful.”
She gives me a sad smile, “Thank you.”
I rub my palms on the sides of my pants and put them in my pockets, clearing my throat, my heart beating so oddly that it's painful. It's almost like there's a hole in my chest.
“Y- Your dad… Is he at home?”
“Yes, he is. I'll call him.” She takes a step inside and, leaving the door open… then looks at me again and adds, “Why don't you come in?”
Come in? No, I…
“It's okay, I'll wait here,” I say withered, watching while she turns away so easily that I wish I were dead.
My eyes trail down to the curves of her body, marked by the dress, and my body shivers in a way that's not pleasurable at all. I'm so cold, it doesn't even feel fall at all — more like I'm stuck in fucking winter.
I don't want to think that she's dressed up so much for another man, that she's going on a date with another guy… *Because a date is something-*
“Hey, Juls.” Mike comes over, looking at me intently. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. I am, I was just… wondering if you're free to drink.” I rush the words out.
“Today?” Mike looks at me surprised, a bit worried… “Didn't we drink yesterday?”
“Come on, I could use a drink…” My voice fails immediately because my eyes reach past Mike's shoulders, to Angelee, who is approaching the door with a bag that matches her outfit…
Mike glances back as well, allowing her to pass through the door.
“Are you guys going out too?” She asks, looking at Mike, not me. In fact, she doesn't pay me a single glance… and that makes me feel like crap.
“Looks like it, sweetheart.” Mike opens his arm for her to snuggle into his embrace in a quick hug, and I clench my fists tightly inside my pockets. “But don't worry, just enjoy the date.”
*Enjoy the date.*
Is she really going out with another guy?
“Thanks, Daddy.” She gives a smile, getting a kiss on the forehead. “I'm going out then…”
Angelee disentangles herself from her father's embrace and walks past me, forcing a smile, muttering a “have fun” while walking to the elevator. And I have to clench my fist much tighter, making my veins pop because gosh, I'm dying to grab her arm and stop her from leaving.
But why?
Why am I feeling so terrible?
I should be happy that Angelee's moving on, not being affected by the crap Eric and Laura have done, but… I feel terrible! It's like my chest is being ripped open.
This hurts like hell.
I feel like I'm losing control because, damn, I can only look at how she waits for the elevator, how beautiful she looks, and how she's all for another man.
And I can't stop thinking about how this guy will feel when he sees her. Probably won't be able to take his eyes off her; I know it because that's how I felt that damn Saturday. Seeing that she put on the clothes I picked out and get so damn hot for me made me the happiest person in this world. But now, she's getting all dressed for another man, and I want to die for it.
“Julian?” Mike asks, drawing my attention, my eyes darting for a brief moment. Angelee is stepping into the elevator.
“Yeah?” I look at her again — and now, yes, she's looking at me, but once more the elevator doors are closing and parting us.
But I feel like this is final, and I can't take it… I can't take it-
“I need to drink,” I say quickly, turning my eyes back to Mike. “Now.”
Mike sighs, running a hand through his hair, “Alright… Just, put something decent on, you look like a beggar.”
A beggar? Great.
“Okay, fine. Just give me ten minutes…” I say, raising my hand and dragging myself back to my apartment.
Yeah, one drink... That's all I need.
***
The whiskey gets down my throat like it was water. I don't taste the alcohol, maybe because my mouth is bitter from this whirlwind of feelings that I don't understand. Or because I drank too damn much.
I'm staring at some point between the bottles behind the counter, in a deep silence that forces me to stay stuck inside my mind, reliving Angelee's words.
In love, with Angelee?
I'm in love with her?
“Julian.” I hear Mike's voice, but I just swing my empty glass, showing that I'm listening, even though my eyes are glued to that wine decorating the shelf. “What's going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“Anyone can look and see that you're struggling to deal with something.” Mike sighs, “It's the woman, isn't it?”
I finally blink for the first time in who knows how long and lower my eyes to the counter.
“Dude, you're in love.” Mike puts his hand on my shoulder, drawing my eyes. “Why don't you see it?”
“There's no way for me to be in love, Mike.” My voice comes out wobbly, and I can see his expression tighten, impatient. “I've never been in love before, how the hell should I know that?”
Mike closes his eyes, annoyed, and shakes his head, “You've slept with so many women and you still don't know the difference? How many times have you suffered for any of them?”
“But… It's because she's someone important to me.” I say softly, suddenly too embarrassed to look at him. I waved my hand, asking the bartender for another shot. Maybe it's the fifth or the sixth — I don't know, is anyone counting?
“And how's that?” Mike says, looking at my face. “I need to be honest, Julian. You're an asshole. You're my best friend, and I love you, but you're really an asshole. I mean, you're a man who doesn't mind getting someone to just warm up your bed if they're hot enough and shake their ass for you.”
“Yes, go ahead. Make me feel worse, Mike.” I say sarcastically, a bitter smile on my lips.
“Isn't that the truth? I've known you since you were born, have you forgotten?” He laughs, “Man, I’m telling you. A manwhore like you wouldn't be a mess just because cut things with a woman. *You are in love.”*
I take a deep breath, trying to ease the knot in my throat.
“What's the matter, Julian?” Mike's voice frightens my ears. But I keep my eyes on the way the bartender pours us new shots. “Why don't you accept that?”
“It's not that *I don't accept it,”* I growl, feeling impatient. “It’s just… I'm not good enough for her! As you said yourself, I'm a manwhore, I've never committed to anyone, and I don't even know that what I'm feeling is love. I've slept with more women than I can count… to the point where I can't remember most of their names, Mike. Do you really think someone like me is good for relationships? Do you think any father would be proud to see his daughter with me?” I raise my voice, feeling my heart deepen its pace.
Damn it.
I grumble, gripping the glass tightly and drinking it all down in another great sip.
“If the guy who's dating your daughter right now was a playboy, someone who doesn't value sex and had so many flings he's lost count, how would you feel?” I look at him with fearful eyes, my voice slightly shriller than usual because damn it… I'm so nervous and the words just pour out, no matter how hard I try to keep them inside. “Tell me, Mike. How would you feel if Angelee loved someone like me?”