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She nods. “Let’s not forget, I have a safe word I can use whenever I want, and I chose not to, so that part’s on me. I don’t fault you for thinking it was okay to keep going.”
“We’re both figuring each other out,” I concede.
She nods again. “And I don’t mind playing. I just don’t want you coming in me. That part’s real.”
“I respect that,” I respond, immeasurably relieved that this conversation is going well. “I’m not surprised.”
…And right when I thought we were out of the woods, the smile fades from Julia’s face. “Why are you not surprised?”
“Well, you’re not the motherly type. I’m not surprised you don’t want—” I stop suddenly, seeing the crestfallen expression that briefly passes over her face and quickly switches to indignation. A moment ago, she was grinning from my apology. Now, she’s recoiling from me in disgust.
“What did I do?” I question immediately. “What did I say?”
Julia’s eyes narrow. “Use your head, August. I have an IUD. I don’t need you to pull out to avoid getting pregnant. I’ve taken care of myself so I don’t need to rely on your dumb ass.”
“Hey,” I warn.
“Some things are sacred to me,” she goes on, hitting her palm against her chest twice. “I’ve used up every other first in my life, but I still have that one—and I’m sure as shit not giving the honor to you.”
“Come on. Don’t pull that shit, Julia.”
“Whatever.”
“No,” I counter. “I made a mistake and said something hurtful. I’m sorry about it. But you’re intentionally trying to hurt me and you know it. Why is that your thing? Why do you want people to think you’re cold when it’s the opposite of—”
“Don’t psychoanalyze me,” she snaps. “You have nothing to back up what you’re saying. Of course I’m cold to you. You sexually harassed me at a party, extorted me into coming here, and then had the gall to say I’d be a bad mother. You’re one to talk about being cold, August.”
“Change the subject all you want, but I still see you. You delight in making people think you’re callous, but here’s a newsflash, princess: You’re really not that mean.”
Somehow, me telling Julia she’s actually not a psychopath is the thing that offends her the most.
“You know what? I’m so glad we had this conversation because I was about to make the grave error of liking you. Maybe enough to see you again. Fuck you again. Let you come inside of me one magical day. But now, you can kiss my perfect ass goodbye.”
“You’d be lucky to have my cum inside you,” I snap back. But as I’m saying it aloud, I know it’s an unbelievably creepy and stupid thing to say.
Julia gets up and tries to shove open the patio door, but it’s stuck in the snowdrift. She jostles it repeatedly, trying desperately to get it open—while I watch her with thinly veiled amusement. “Why the hell did you bring me here?” She whirls around to face me. “Why couldn’t you be a normal old pervert and jet me off to somewhere tropical to coerce me?”
“Because I live here, Julia.”
“Who the hell lives in Montana?”
“The population is one point one million,” I reply flatly. “So, literally a million people live here.”
Exasperated, she shakes her head and has the audacity to hold up her hand to shut me up. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” she hisses. “And I can’t wait to get out of here and never have to see you again.”
I raise both shoulders. “You think I’d miss you? This shit ran its course the minute you fled in the middle of the night. I knew better. I won’t make this mistake again.”
I walk out before she can get the last word in—and I hope she’s furious about it.
Chapter 15: Julia
I shower and put on makeup, mostly out of habit. I don’t care if Gus sees me with or without it. After today he’s never going to see me again—with or without makeup, obviously.
After I finish my mascara and blink a few times, I study my reflection in the foggy mirror. No amount of mascara is ever going to alleviate the tension from fighting over something as bizarre as Gus’s cum.
I shake my hair out, toying with strands here and there. I’m stalling, I know. I’m putting off the inevitable moment when I have to leave the bathroom and sit downstairs with Gus to wait out the end of this miserable blizzard. Knowing him, he’ll spend however long we have left making snide comments about me and gloating about how he banged me—twice.
“Get your shit together,” I order myself. “Seriously. Get your shit together, Julia.”
