By the time I got to my road, I was much calmer. I thought I had successfully evaded Julian Jones, prepared to celebrate with a jig in my car, until I spotted a certain black classic on my driveway.
Almost having a heart attack, I pulled up and flung the door open just Julian kicked his black door open.
"What the hell are you doing here?!" I shouted as he leapt out, slamming the door.
He stood up, intimidatingly tall and dressed in black from head to toe. A smile tugged at his lips. "Good to know you still have it in you."
"What in me?"
"Life. Anger." He came closer. "The ability to yell at me."
I rolled my eyes. "If you don't get lost, my abilities will really start showing."
"If yelling is what I have to take to find out what the fuck happened to you, I'll take it."
My eyes went wide. I felt myself falling, falling into those dark brown eyes, softer than they'd been in a while.
Then I shook my head. Stupid. "I have nothing to say to you." Walking away, I got to my door and dug for the keys. I jammed it into the lock and swung inside, pushing the door closed fast.
Not fast enough.
A long arm jutted in before it closed. "Shit!" I yelled, pulling it off him.
Standing in the doorway, he looked down on me. "Do you mind?"
"What do you think you're doing?" I cried. "Are you hurt?" I grabbed for his bare arm, but he pushed through the door, closing it behind him.
"I'm more concerned about you. Limping, are we?"
I was so confused, heart fluttering like an idiot at his words. "Why are you here, Julian?"
"To find out the truth. Stop avoiding me, Brooke."
I turned away from him, not quite believing the situation. Why the hell was he here - in my house? Was he out of his mind? I stalked to the kitchen, dumping my backpack on the table and tossing my glasses down too. The anger was fogging them up.
He hovered behind me. Facing him, I asked, "why should I?"
"Why should you what?"
"Stop avoiding you?" I challenged. "You've given me more than a couple of reasons to."
Julian ran his hand through the wild curls on his head. "I know."
"So you won't deny it?"
"I know what I've done." His jaw locked.
"If you knew what you've done," I said coldly, "you'd know that you have no right to be here, demanding answers from me."
Julian sighed, a heavy, tired sigh. Like he'd been fighting for a long time, and he didn't want to go on. Like he wanted to give in. "I know."
"Get out, then."
"No." He stepped forward. "Brooke, tell me. I need to know."
The intensity of his stare cut through me, and I felt myself crumbling. "Why?" I looked away. "You hate me."
"Do I?"
"Yes."
"Wrong."
"What?" I whipped around to look at him. Julian's eyes were on me, wide as saucers, browner than I'd ever seen them. It stopped the pain in my leg, the memories from last night slipping from my mind.
"I don't hate you. How could I ever hate you?" He whispered, maybe to himself.
Instead of happiness at hearing something I had longed to hear for so long, fury surged inside me. "What?"
"Brooke. . ." Julian saw the change in my eyes. "I don't hate you. I never did."
I stepped toward him, blazing with anger. Every thing was hot. "What do you mean, you don't hate me?"
"I don't."
"Liar." I spat.
"I'm not a liar. Not now. I'm telling you the truth."
"That you don't hate me?"
"Yes. I don't."
"Then what the hell are you doing!" I screamed. Shock flashed across his face. "What the fuck, Julian!"
Julian stepped back, into the blue counter. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," it was a growl, "if you don't hate me, what have you been doing to me? What sick game are you playing?"
"It's not a game." His eyes were hard.
"No it's fucking not! I've been through hell this past week, and you haven't given two shits!"
He frowned, came toward me. "I did, Brooke. I cared. I care!"
"No, you don't!" Tears sprung to my eyes, and he was just a blur in front of me. "You don't care!"
"I do!"
"You don't!"
"I care, Brooke! Listen to me!"
Tears pushed over, wet on my cheeks. Through the blur I saw his eyes widen in surprise, before rushing toward me.
Maybe it was the fact that I was still disturbed from the night before, or that the pain I felt with every whisper about me had built up, or maybe the way Julian's eyes were watching me the way I had longed them to, softly, since last Monday. But when his arms came around me, my cheek hitting his shoulder, I didn't fight.
Julian's cheek was pressed to the side of my head, arms strong around my back. Under my cheek, his-t-shirt was getting wet, but it was so soft, shoulder hard beneath it. I felt the anger fade, but the sobs didn't stop.
"Don't cry," he whispered into my hair. "Don't cry."
"I--I can't--"
"Shhh," Julian tightened his arms. Suddenly, I could smell smoke on him, and I pulled away.
"What's wrong?" He asked, watching me with worried eyes.
"You smell."
"What?" He pulled back more, still holding me.
I wrinkled my nose. "You stink of smoke, Julian."
His eyebrows pushed together. "That's not good?"
"Not good at all."
At the disgust in my face, a wild smile grew on his. I found that seeing him like this, smiling, lifted so much of the weight off my chest. I felt like I could breathe properly again.
Until he grabbed my hips and hoisted me onto the counter.
"Stop! I'm heavy!" I protested, but it was already done.
Julian stepped back, leaned on the kitchen chair across from me. "You're not."
"What are you doing?"
"Getting answers." The beautiful smile was gone, replaced with a frown. "You're not going anywhere until you tell me what happened, Brooke."