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Socializing, traveling, gossiping at the country club, partying. The high life was her playground—and still is. Again, that doesn't make her a bad person, just... a distracted one, similar to that of how my father views me. Actually, he blatantly compares my mother and I's habits quite often, and did so even during my childhood, when I displayed signs of hyper-extroversion and a disinterest in school, stating Sylvia was the root cause.
Not because she was an absent mother—nooo, that couldn't possibly be the case—or, perhaps, his lack of interest in me. No. None of that is to blame for my innate desire to bring disgrace upon him. Rather, my genes. Our genes—my mother and me. We were born this way, and I was misfortunate enough to take after her and not him, who fucks anything that breathes or looks at him too long, all while wearing a wedding ring, then turns around and calls himself the mature head of the family and me a walking pit stain.
Like my art. Such a distraction. A lousy one, too.
My little doodles...
So yes, after the divorce, the classes stopped, for more reasons than just Amber or, by association, The Brooks family, who took me in at times growing up and who I love dearly. Amber included.
"We don't need to go into that, Juliana. You know how I feel, so please don't make that face."
She squirms, offering a simple nod, before she smirks. "Okay, now ask me a question."
"What?"
"I've been grilling you for the past ten minutes—it's only fair. Ask me something. Anything."
Anything.
Excitement rocks me at my core, but it quickly tapers off. I already know so much about Juliana, more so than almost anyone in her life. It's not often that your paths align with another's so closely, like the universe keeps stitching you back together, no matter if you've drifted apart.
Even after a five year-long gap, when I pushed her away and thought I'd never get her back...
I banish the memories, refusing to let them take hold. "Why don't you drink?" I ask the first question that pops into my head, genuinely curious.
She looks at me blankly.
"Alcohol," I clarify.
"Oh," she laughs. "I do sometimes, but not often."
"Any particular reason?"
A slight blush colors her cheeks. "I, uh... make bad decisions when I'm drunk."
My jaw clenches as thoughts of her with other men flood my mind, but I push them away and tease, "You, the most responsible person I know, making bad decisions? Those two don't belong in the same sentence. I don't buy it."
"It's true!" She giggles awkwardly, sparking my interest.
"Like what? Give me an example."
"Like, ummm..." She looks up at the sky, as if she'll find the answers between the clouds. "Oh! Like this."
I raise a brow, only for my heart to lurch into my throat when she hoists herself up, out of the water, and sits on the wooden planks surrounding the in-ground tub. Wet droplets slide down her body, so distractingly that I nearly miss where she's pointing.
At her belly button ring.
"So, that was a drunken decision?" I ask a bit too roughly, bringing a fist to my mouth, resisting the urge to bite into my flesh. Don't stare, don't stare, don't stare...
"Mhmm," she confirms, almost proudly. "Made a couple years back while I was still at university. Two tequila sunrises, I think they were. Yep, that did me in real good—I'm a lightweight, I admit. Then, while we were out exploring the city that night, we happened upon a piercing shop...
"Mei tried to convince me not to, said I'd regret it the next morning when I sobered up. She was right. Plus, aside from keeping it clean, I was too afraid to touch it—and I certainly wouldn't let anyone else. But, as the days wore on, it grew on me more and more." She shrugs. "Now, here I am, still rockin' it."
...Oh, God. It's my turn to talk. How the hell do I respond to that?
Don't worry, Juliana, I think it's hot as fuck. In fact, me and the rest of the men in New York City, especially those who came to my party, are thankful for your drunkenness that night...?
No, no—ah, shit. That'd make it weird...
