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Family. He doesn’t know how his words have poked my festering wounds.
“You don’t like your family?” I question.
“I love them.” His response surprises me. “I just didn’t want to fit the mold my father wanted me to be.”
I want to shout that he’s lucky he still has a father. I take a page from Harper’s book, “Daddy issues. That’s a red flag.”
Julian smirks, a playful glint in his grey eyes. “Red flags only matter when it comes to relationships.”
“I take it you’re not in one then, nor do you want one then?”
He hesitates for a moment, his gaze drifting to some distant memory. He scans his apartment, a loft-style space with exposed brick walls and large windows bathing the room in warm Texas sunlight. The decor is modern and minimalist: grey walls, warm brown wood floors, black hardware, and a giant TV dominating the living room wall. The artwork is of landscapes and abstracts that look expensive.
“No,” Julian finally exhales, his breath heavy. “The last girlfriend I had cheated on me when I was deployed.”
"Cheated...on you?" I deadpan, momentarily losing my filter.
He chuckles, a light spark in his eyes. "Thanks for the ego boost."
"Well, she was a fool."
"Kent would agree with you on that." He adds, absentmindedly grasping the back of his neck. My gaze inadvertently trails down his long, muscular legs, starkly contrasting with my own. Then, I feel his stormy eyes shift onto me, intense yet curious.
"What about you? What did your last boyfriend do to end things?"
He sinned. It was different than cheating, something far worse.
"He went to grad school. Didn't want strings attached," I voice, masking the truth with a half-lie.
I appreciate that Julian blames my ex, not me.
"Well, he's a fool too.”
No, the fool was me for trusting him.
I roll my eyes playfully. "You're just saying that because I did." I reach up, tightening my messy bun, only to glance down at my old stained shirt and worn-out yoga pants. I seriously need new clothes. Harper was right; she usually is once you filter through all the sexual innuendos.
"No," Julian says firmly, capturing my attention.
I freeze, some of my hair falling loose as our eyes lock.
"I don't say things just to please others." He swallows, and I notice the subtle movement of his throat, his gaze scanning me again with an intensity that’s hard to ignore.
“Are you the kind of neighbor who bangs on my door at midnight, asking me to turn the music down?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
He slides his right leg up, resting his elbow on his knee, a picture of casual interest. “Aww, so you’re the partying type,” he teases, a brow arching playfully.
“No,” I shake my head, “My idea of a fun night is actually pretty boring.”
He shrugs nonchalantly. “If you enjoy it, then it’s not boring. Who cares what others think?”
His words are like the antidote to the poison my ex had fed me.
“True.” I nod, trying to maintain composure. “What about you? What do you do for fun?”
His eyes glaze over, staring at a blank wall as if seeing something else. “A lot of it is classified,” he admits with a half-hearted shrug. “I was a Lieutenant Delta Force.”
“Delta Force?”
