Chapter 8: Warm Welcomes.
(Rory's POV)
I shifted in my seat, my lips twitching into a weak, breathless laugh as I tried to deflect the awkwardness. "N-no, of course not. Don't be ridiculous," I said, my voice betraying me with a slight tremble as I glanced at Julian.
Knowing how troublesome he could get, I was planning on reassuring him that nothing had happened with Ethan and i, that the smirking stranger from the bar hadn't crossed any lines, but the words felt unneeded seeing how he still had the time to joke around.
With nothing left to say, I looked away, my shoulders tensing as I stared out the window, the city blurring past in streaks of wet asphalt and neon signs.
Julian turned silent as well yet. I could sense his skepticism, the way his mind must've been turning over my flimsy denial. He knew me too well, better than anyone, really.
Him turning silent definitely meant he just didn't want to pursue the issue at the moment.
We'd grown up together, shared secrets under starlit skies, laughed until our sides ached, and weathered storms together.
It wasn't shocking to me that he could read me like an open book, Yet, right now, I was terrified of what he might see.
Did he think I'd let Ethan take advantage of me? Did he think I was that naive, that broken by Jonathan's betrayal that I'd fall into the arms of the first charming stranger who offered me a smile? The thought made my cheeks burn with a mix of shame and defiance.
I felt my center of gravity shift when Julian suddenly shifted gears, the engine growling smoothly as we hit a long, empty stretch of road, the tires hissing against the damp pavement. The sound was almost soothing, a contrast to the storm brewing inside me. "I hope you've finally realized how worried I was," Julian said at last, his voice losing its teasing edge.
"Not just me. Uncle and Aunty too. We spent the whole night trying to figure out where you could've gone." he said and though I didn't want to believe it, I could still sense the genuine worry hidden within his words.
My heart sank, the weight of his words pressing against the guilt already gnawing at me. I pictured my parents, pacing the living room, their faces etched with worry as they called my phone over and over. My mom's frantic voice on the phone this morning echoed in my mind, the relief and exasperation in her tone cutting deeper than I wanted to admit. And Julian, having sent ninety missed calls, each one a silent plea for me to answer, to let him know I was okay. I'd shut him out, too caught up in my own pain to think about how my disappearance would affect the people who loved me.
"I… I'm sorry," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper as I stared at my hands, my fingers twisting together in my lap. The apology felt inadequate, a flimsy bandage over a wound I'd caused.
Julian clicked his tongue, the sound sharp with frustration. "If you had just listened to me and dumped that buffoon, none of this would've happened," he said, his voice turning colder, sharper, like a blade slicing through the air. "Honestly, if it were up to me, I'd make damn sure that clown regretted the day he was born."
The venom in his tone startled me, and I turned to face him, my eyes widening. "Julian, stop," I said, my voice firmer than I felt, a spark of resolve cutting through my guilt. "What happened, happened. I don't need you to do anything."
He glanced at me briefly, his amber eyes dark with something I couldn't quite name. anger, protectiveness, maybe both. His jaw tightened, but he didn't respond, his focus returning to the road.
The silence that followed was heavier than before, a cold, oppressive weight that settled over me like a fog. I wanted to say more, to explain that I wasn't defending Jonathan, that I just didn't want Julian to carry the burden of my pain. But the words stuck in my throat, tangled in the mess of emotions I was still trying to untangle.
"Besides…" I added, my voice softening, barely audible as I looked out the window again. "Yesterday wasn't all that bad."
The moment the words left my lips, I regretted them.
Not that bad?
My mind reeled, replaying the chaos of the night before—the bar, the wine, Ethan's infuriating smirk, the way I'd woken up in a stranger's hotel room with no memory of how I'd gotten there.
Ethan had been a jerk, no question, with his smug confidence and relentless teasing, but he hadn't crossed any lines. He'd gotten me out of the bar, kept me safe when I was too drunk to stand. That didn't make him a saint, but it didn't make him a villain either. Still, the thought of admitting any of that to Julian, of explaining the complicated mess of last night, made my stomach churn.
"What do you mean it wasn't that bad?" Julian's voice was low, careful, like he was holding back a storm. His fingers curled tighter around the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening as he kept his eyes fixed on the road.
"Nothing," I said quickly, too quickly, my cheeks flushing as I realized how my words must have sounded. "I didn't mean anything."
But the damage was done. The air in the car felt colder, the hum of the engine dull compared to the tension radiating from Julian. I could practically hear his thoughts, dark and protective, swirling around that smug handsome face of his.
The memory of Ethan, with his tousled blond hair and infuriating grin, standing too close to me, acting like he belonged in my orbit. I hadn't meant to make it sound like I was defending him, but Julian's silence told me he was reading too much into it.