The Girl in the Background

"If your precious little bookworm actually shows up to watch the first snow with you, you can forget ever seeing me in that new lingerie." A girl's voice.

Muffled, like she was talking through a scarf. Then a guy's voice, low and rough. Half worn down, half fond. "I'll be there.

Happy now?" I was three seconds into some stranger's callout post when the audio started playing. It was the caption that stopped my thumb.

To the MIT physics girl waiting to watch the first snow with her boyfriend: he's cheating on you. The recording kept going. I didn't hear the rest. Because the school matched.

The major matched. And that second voice? I would know it anywhere. My boyfriend had been seeing someone else behind my back. He thinks no one knows.

What he doesn't know is that the second I heard that recording, I became the one writing this story. I'll smile through our anniversary. I'll let him mean every "forever" he says.

And then, in front of everyone, I'll hand this piece of trash to the other girl myself. And get on a plane to Heidelberg without once looking back. He owes me a lot of pain.

I'm collecting. With interest. Chapter 1 The second I placed that voice, my mind went white. My first instinct was to deny it. No. It couldn't be. Julian would never cheat.

We were solid. We had a promise: every year, we'd watch the first snow together.

He'd said it himself. "Wren, couples who spend the first snow together stay happy forever." "Wear the couple jacket I got you tomorrow, okay?

I want a picture of my girl looking gorgeous in the snow." "I don't even want to sleep tonight.

I just want tomorrow to hurry up." He'd even snapped a photo of the train ticket he'd already bought and sent it to me. Like he couldn't wait to see me. To watch the snow, together.

But could it really be that big a coincidence? Another girl, waiting for her boyfriend, on the first snow. And I just happened to be a junior in the physics department at MIT. Fine.

Say all of that was chance. Was I hearing his voice wrong too? Then his text landed and killed every excuse I'd been making for him. Julian: [Wren, I'm so sorry.

Something came up with my department. I really can't get away tomorrow.] Julian: [I'll make it up to you twice over in a couple days. Be good!] Two sentences.

That was all it took to snap me out of the fog. No more lying to myself. The guy in that callout post was Julian. Tomorrow was the first snow.

The night before, he'd sent me a picture of the train ticket. Told me he wanted a shot of me looking my best in the snow. Then he turned around and used four little words.

Something came up. And just like that, he handed the first snow we'd promised each other, every single year, to another girl. I made myself breathe. Twice.

Then I played the recording again. The girl's voice wasn't crystal clear, but the pitch of it, the tone. Something felt off. Familiar.

I opened a message to the poster and told her who I was first. Me: [I think I'm the girl you're looking for.

The one getting cheated on.] Me: [Could you tell me exactly what you saw?] She wrote back fast. Her: [Girl!

I was scared I'd never find you.] Her: [That couple looked so puttogether and so shameless about it, I couldn't believe my eyes.] From what she described, the guy was Julian.

No question. And the girl? Her: [About fivefour?

Almond eyes, a tiny mole right at the corner of her right eye, done up all foxy and catlike...] She was still fired up on my behalf.

Said if she hadn't been sitting so close, she'd have snapped a couple photos for me. She didn't need to. Those few words were enough. An old face surfaced in my mind. Tiffany.

A girl Julian and I both knew back in high school. But. How could it be her? A second ago I'd run through every possibility. Some girl from his school.

Some new friend he'd made in Providence. Tiffany never once crossed my mind. She'd hated me and Julian all through high school.

I figured that after graduation we'd never lay eyes on each other again. But of course. Of course it was her.

The girl who used to tear Julian apart in front of the whole class, until he couldn't hold his head up. The girl who treated me like her sworn enemy.

Three years ago, I took the suspension for him. I threw the punches for him. Turns out I was just sharpening the knife for the two of them to use tonight.

Chapter 2 No time to sit there stunned. I thanked the poster again and found Tiffany's Instagram in about a minute.

We hadn't spoken in two years, but we'd gone to the same high school. Asking around about an old classmate wasn't hard. I opened her profile.

Turns out there were plenty of "surprises" waiting. Her profile picture was identical to mine. Julian and I had used the same couple pfp for a long time.

Then, about a month ago, he suddenly sent me a new one and asked me to switch. His reason: he'd had it custommade, just for us. I didn't think twice. I switched. Now I got it.

He wanted a matching pfp with his new girl. He just didn't want me catching on. So he had me change mine to match Tiffany's instead. I wasn't his girlfriend. I was the decoy.

Then I noticed her location tag. Same city as Julian. Turns out Tiffany went to school in Providence too.

And every time I'd brought her up to Julian after graduation, he'd played dumb. Like the name meant nothing. Like she wasn't even worth mentioning. Not one crack in the story.

And last of all. Fifteen minutes ago, Tiffany had posted something new.

Tiffany: [Obsessed with the first snow, fried chicken, cold beer, and a boyfriend who drops everything to be with me!] Someone from the same city, in the comments: [Oooh, somebody's in love.

Where's the big firstsnow date going down?] She replied with the name of a bougie influencer place, the kind that runs three hundred a head.

Soaking up all that envy, and she still made sure to tack a smug little tongueout emoji onto the end. When the truth hits you full in the face, you learn something.

A person numb enough, cold enough, gutted enough: she actually laughs. Boston to Providence is close. About an hour on the train. I bought my ticket.

Then I made a reservation at that same restaurant. The next morning, out in the winter wind, I watched Julian and his new girlfriend take in the first snow together.

Tiffany pouted at him to carry her bag. Julian looped an arm around her waist like she was something precious. Said something that made her laugh.

Steered them both toward the restaurant door. Oh. Right. I knew the jackets they had on. They were the same ones: the couple puffers Julian had bought me. Two jackets.

Two profile pictures. One first snow he'd promised to both of us. And me?

So I wouldn't get spotted, I'd worn the black puffer every college kid owns, a big face mask, a thick scarf. Just another nameless extra in the little world of their romance.

I sat down in the booth right behind them.

The childhood sweetheart who swore he'd love me till the day he died sat one tall seatback away, arm around another girl, feeding her the same lines.

Then my phone, the one I'd set to silent, lit up. Julian: [Babe, what are you up to? Did you go out to see the snow?] Even now. Even here. He still found a spare second to text me.

Chapter 3 Tiffany didn't like him splitting his attention. She made a show of pouting and reached for his phone. "Today you only get to focus on me!" "Tch." Julian sounded annoyed.

But he didn't push her off, even with her practically glued to him.

He just held the phone out of her reach, watching the screen, waiting for my reply, soothing the girl in his arms at the same time. "Be good.

Quit it." "I came to watch the first snow with you, didn't I? So behave." I lifted my coffee. Rich, warm going down. It still didn't touch the nausea.

A sneer tugged at the corner of my mouth. I typed back. Me: [Nope. The first snow's only worth watching with someone you love, right?] Julian replied in a heartbeat.

Julian: [It's all my fault. The department thing just couldn't wait.] Guilty people always overdo it. More words, more effort, like it patches the hole.

He snapped a photo of the snow outside the window and sent that too. Julian: [Snow's coming down here.] Julian: [Don't worry, babe.

I'm going to study my ass off and get into your school for grad school.] Julian: [Then we can watch the first snow together every year.] Tiffany scrunched her nose.

She leaned in and nipped at his throat, and he let out a low grunt.

She used the opening to snatch the phone out of his hand and press the screen dark. "What's even the point of dating someone like Wren?

You're in college now and she still does nothing but study. All that sappy poetry about watching the snow. It's hilarious." Julian's voice cooled. "Watch it.

Who are you to talk about her?" "Aw, mad?" Tiffany studied his face, then swung his arm a little. "Defend her like that and I'm going to get jealous." He softened.

Tapped the tip of her nose. "Look who's talking. Aren't you the one who dragged me out to see the snow?" "Hmph.

That's not it at all." Tiffany pressed close to his ear, her breath warm. "What I wanted to drag you out for wasn't the snow. It was..." The rest dropped too low to catch.

I only made out a blurred word or two. Something about lingerie. Julian's breath went ragged.

He laughed, low. "Then what are we even sitting here watching snow for?" He started to pull her up. Tiffany played coy, sinking back into the booth, refusing to move. "Then tell me.

Me or Wren. Who's more fun to be around?" "You, you, you! It's you, okay?" Only after he'd caved and begged did Tiffany let herself be tugged to her feet. I stopped the recording.

I slipped into the crowd and followed them, not too close, not too far. About two blocks later, I raised my phone and took the picture.

The two of them, wrapped around each other, walking into a hotel. A strange street in Providence. Cold cutting straight to the bone. Knowing is one thing.

Seeing it with your own eyes is another. The pain I'd been crushing down since the first second I saw them broke loose all at once, sharp and pulsing in my chest.

The back of Julian's head looked like a stranger's. I could have called out to them right there. Stormed up, screamed at him, slapped him twice, ended the whole thing on the spot.

But that would have let him off too easy. A guy who plays with someone's real feelings doesn't get a clean, dignified ending. I saved the recording. Tucked it away, safe.

If I had one wish for this first snow, it was this. Julian was going to feel the same pain I did. No. Many times over. Chapter 4 Had he forgotten?

Back then, Tiffany used to sneer at him, mock him, say a guy like him being with me was punching way above his weight. I was the one who stood up for him.

I took the suspension, I lunged at Tiffany and we got in a fight, and I didn't care about any of it. And today I stood there and heard it with my own ears.

The two of them, using me for entertainment, picking me apart, making me one more piece in their little game. My loyalty had become the knife I stabbed into my own back.

My honest heart had become a joke, start to finish. I took one last long look at them walking hand in hand into the elevator.

I stamped my numb, frozen feet, and I left without looking back. A man who takes someone's real heart and toys with it doesn't get to walk away clean.

If I wanted one thing from this first snow, it was this. Julian had to taste the same pain I did. No, many times worse. Only then would it be fair. On the train back to Boston.

The scenery outside tore past. I stared at a single point in the distance, lost in it. The year I was in eighth grade, Julian moved in next door.

The second he showed up, he became the talk of the grade. Three reasons. He was gorgeous. His mother had a vicious temper and screamed at him constantly. And his family had nothing.

I remember the girls whispering a label for him. Hot, tough, and tragic. It was just the two of them, him and his mom. Nobody ever saw his father.

More than once, his mother's shrill voice cut straight through the walls, tearing into him. "This is all your fault, you useless boy!" "If you'd just done better, how could your father ever have had the heart to throw us away?" Little by little, the whispers spread.

Everyone said Julian's mom had been some rich man's mistress, and when the wife found out, she and her son got thrown out on the street.

Julian wore the label of the other woman's son. School was rough for him, and at home his mother crushed him under constant blame. All because he wasn't good enough.

Because he couldn't win his real father over. The way Julian fought back was to stop trying at all.

One time, he got into it again in the alley behind school, tangled up with the boys who liked to laugh at where he came from.

By the time I saw him, he was lying on the ground alone, blood on his forehead, cuts all over. I bought him antiseptic and bandaids. He lifted his eyes to look at me.

Those pretty, sharp eyes had no warmth in them at all. "You don't know I'm a bastard kid?

Why bother helping me?" I dabbed iodine on the cut on his forehead. "You didn't get to pick your parents, or how you were born." His lashes trembled.

After he healed, he told me the truth. His mom hadn't been the mistress.

His father had latched onto a rich heiress who could boost him up the ladder, then dumped the two of them without a second thought. "This stuff I'm telling you.

Do you believe it?" I nodded. His eyes lit for a moment, then dimmed again. He gave a bitter little laugh. "A deadbeat for a dad, a mom who never stops playing the victim.

You think I'm pathetic, don't you?" "If I'd had a choice, I'd rather never have been born." I was quiet for a few seconds. Thought about it. "You do have a choice.

Your father is your father. You are you." "You can work for it. Make your own life good from here on out." I've never forgotten the sunset that evening.

Or the hope flickering back to life in that boy's eyes. That hope? I lit it myself, one word at a time.

And today, the boy I lit up with my own hands sat with his arm around Tiffany, the girl who'd once mocked him until he couldn't hold his head up, one booth away, turning my real heart into their punchline.

The knife I took for him is the one buried in my own chest now. Chapter 5 From that day on, I became Julian's best friend. His only friend, really.

His mom stayed sunk in the grief of being left behind, and in the fantasy that the man would go soft someday and come back for her. So Julian's life was genuinely hard.

Money, and everything underneath it. Even then, whatever little bit of good food he had, he'd save it and bring it to me.

When my parents found out, they said I didn't know any better. Then they started calling Julian over for a real meal all the time.

Rain or shine, Julian had an umbrella ready for me, a thick coat, more on top of it than my own parents were.

There was an alley on the walk home from night study, and every single day, without fail, he walked me right to my door.

Around the same time, Julian quit coasting and started taking school seriously. And Tiffany? That's when she transferred in. She really was a knockout, and she knew how to dress.

While the rest of us had our heads down and looked like a mess, she stood out even more. She was the school's itgirl before you knew it. Some people did say Wren was pretty too.

Look close, they said, and she held her own against Tiffany. Nothing worth taking to heart. I let it roll off and laughed it away. But Tiffany took it very much to heart.

All on her own, she decided I was her sworn enemy. The calmer I stayed, the more she jumped.

And it just so happened my family was comfortable and my grades were good, so every little dig of hers just bounced right off me. I didn't care.

So Julian became her way in. "Wren, so what if you get good grades?" "I hear you and Julian are close? Birds of a feather.

Guess that makes you no better than he is." "Everybody knows he's a bastard. Own father threw him out, dirt poor, garbage grades. Ha." Something in me snapped.

I almost never even raised my voice at people, and I charged her and kicked the back of her knee. Kids gasped. We went down clawing at each other, and we both walked away hurt.

That day. It was the first time I ever got in a fight at school. Also the first time I got suspended and had my name read out over the PA. If I could go back, I'd do it again.

Julian pulled me close and held a cold pack to the bruise at the corner of my mouth. "Someone like Tiffany, don't waste your breath on her." "Just a jumpedup little clown." I hissed through the pain. "I just can't stand her talking about you like that." That boomerang from three years ago is landing right between my eyes now.

The person I fought so hard to protect teamed up with the person who used to humiliate him, and the two of them drove a knife straight into me. Turns out.

The real clown, the one those two put up on a stage and made a fool of, start to finish, was me. When exactly Julian and Tiffany got together behind my back, I don't know.

But I hadn't missed the changes in him. He's smart. He'd coasted so long he was way behind, but once he locked in, his grades climbed at a shocking pace.

Grinding to get into the same school as me, he pushed so hard even the teachers were surprised. Shame.

Chapter 6 Right before the SATs, the father who'd been gone for years turned up again. It set off a screaming fight between Julian and his mom.

For a few nights, the neighbors could all hear his mother sobbing herself hysterical. "I don't want his money. I'm not his son. I am not going back with him." "Not going back?

Have you lost your mind?" "All these years, and your father finally comes crawling back for us. After this, who's going to dare call me a mistress?

Who's going to call you a bastard?" "Julian, are you trying to put me in an early grave?!" Julian's SATs took the hit. He came in a good thirty points under his last practice test.

No way it was getting him into MIT, where I was headed. He wanted to just throw down for any school in Boston, same city as me. I talked him out of it.

In the end a counselor helped him land on a school in Providence, close to Boston. And he and his mom got taken back by his father. I joked.

Asked him how it felt to suddenly turn into some rich heir. He shook his head. "You really think fatherly love just woke up out of nowhere?" "That woman got sick and died.

Left him with nothing but a daughter. That's when he suddenly remembered he had me stashed away. An heir." After everything, he and his father got along badly.

His father put it out there plainly. Even at sixty he could still father a kid, so don't go assuming the fortune would ever be his.

At that, Julian let out a scornful little laugh. "Like I ever wanted a cent of his money." "Don't worry, Wren.

I'm getting into MIT for grad school, and we'll fight our way to a future that's ours." He never forgot that promise. I believed him. And he turned out to be the one who broke it.

At the start, he checked in every couple of days with a study update. Reported in like clockwork. Every little thing from his day landed in my messages first. The clouds.

The cat by the library. The lunch lady's shaky serving spoon. But bit by bit. More of it was about going out and having fun. Less and less of it got shared at all.

Makes sense, though. He's a rich heir now, with someone new in his arms. Asking him to keep playing the guy who never forgot where he came from, that's a lot.

Early the next morning, right on schedule, at the exact minute he always sent it, Julian texted his goodmorning. Julian: [Morning, babe!] Five, six minutes went by.

No reply from me. He kept going. Julian: [Did you see the snow photo I sent yesterday?] Julian: [Killing me that I didn't get to see it with you. All my fault.

Don't be mad, okay?] I zoomed in on that photo, and it pulled a dry laugh out of me.

He'd shot it against the store's big front window, so scared Tiffany's reflection might show that he'd blocked her with his whole body, covered her completely.

What he didn't know: down in the bottomright corner, there was a faint, easytomiss profile. That was me. Black puffer and all, sitting right behind them.

He'd worked so hard to hide the new girl. He never noticed the old one was in the same shot. New love and old love, both in one frame. That photo was a joke.

Right about now, Julian was probably still in that hotel with Tiffany, not even out of bed. Maybe holding her with one arm and texting me with the other.

Just picturing it turned my stomach. I didn't even want breakfast. Chapter 7 I wanted to ignore him. Then the phone rang. I hit decline. He called right back. Two words back: Busy.

Julian: [But I know your schedule. You don't have class this morning.] I stopped answering and got on with my day. He could feel me going cold.

All day, Julian kept sending two, three texts at a time. The library cat, which hadn't come up in over two months, suddenly showed up in the chat again.

The lunch lady at dining hall three still had that shaky hand. A meat special that was all veggie, no meat.

That impossible textbook he was forever complaining about, he'd picked it back up today. Even wrote a page and a half of notes. None of it moved me an inch. A winter coat in July.

A paper fan in the dead of December. It just came off as extra. As fake.

After a full day of getting iced out, Julian pinged me on video that night, all wounded and careful. "Were you busy the whole day?" I nodded. "Yeah." "About yesterday..." I cut him off before he could finish. "I know.

Something came up with your department. Got it." He choked on the rest. I stayed quiet. The silence between us was awkward in a way it had never been before.

He rubbed his face, put on a coaxing smile, and opened his mouth to try again. I didn't give him the chance. "Gotta go.

My roommate's about to get out of the shower." The second I hung up, his texts came rolling in, one after another.

Julian: [My baby's definitely still mad at me.] Julian: [But I said I'd make it up to you double.

Just wait for your surprise on Sunday, babe.] Julian: [Love you.] Four days until Sunday. I stayed cold through every one of them.

Julian could see it was landing, that he was getting hurt, but he didn't lose heart. He kept dropping mysterious little hints about how much thought he was putting in.

Sunday was our anniversary. He was sure that if he put on a good enough show that day, I'd forgive him for standing me up.

But a relationship already rotten and turning on the inside, and you want to throw it an anniversary? Isn't that a joke?

So that day, I decided to go to the physics exhibit I'd been dying to see. The one on spacetime. At 7:40 sharp, I headed out.

I'd just climbed into the Uber when Julian, who'd caught the earliest train, showed up. Julian: [Babe, come downstairs!] I powered my phone off without a second thought.

Under the holographic displays at the exhibit, I lost myself in the sheer pull of the universe. I didn't turn my phone back on until four in the afternoon.

The badge on my messages sat frozen at 99+. A wall of little red dots pinned to the screen. Every one of them Julian. Texts, missed calls. My roommate had sent a bunch too.

Her: [Wren, the cheater is hilarious. I told him you went out to an exhibit first thing this morning and he wouldn't believe me.] Her: [He's been waiting downstairs this whole time.

Looks like he skipped lunch.] Her: [Won't stop messing with his phone.

Pretty sure he's losing it trying to find you.] Her: [Maybe just take his call?] Her: [I nearly froze solid just going down for my delivery.

Kind of feel bad for him, honestly.] She'd tacked on a photo from the dorm balcony. I couldn't see his face, but his hands were full of gifts, red raw from the cold.

Even after I'd told her he cheated, watching him stand out there all day in that cold still got to her a little. Chapter 8 I fired back fast.

Me: [Girl, feeling sorry for a man is a mental illness.] Her: [......] Me: [See that jacket he's got on?

On the first snow, he wore that exact same one to watch the snow with another girl.] Her: [Damn. Cheating piece of trash. Let him freeze.] By the time I finally came down.

Julian's lashes looked like they'd iced over. That first snow had come down two days straight, and now we were in the deep cold that follows. The worst kind.

Julian saw me, his jaw so stiff from the cold it dragged at his words. "Wren... your roommate said you went to an exhibit?" "Mm. Wanted to for ages.

Today worked out." Thrown by how unbothered I was, his voice actually shook. "You know what today is. You didn't forget, did you?" I looked at him and said nothing.

He read the silence as a yes. Days of storedup hurt and disappointment and secondguessing broke out of him all at once.

I could even catch the faint shine of tears in his eyes. "How could you forget a day this important?" "I put so much into today. The gifts, all of it.

I just wanted us to have a happy anniversary." I told him not to work himself up. Handed him a flat little scrap of comfort. "It's just an anniversary.

There are plenty of those in a year, big and small. Worst case, we do it next time." Pain flooded his whole face.

He stepped in and wrapped his arms around me. "Wren, what is going on with you lately?" "I know standing you up was my fault. But I explained myself.

Is it really that unforgivable?" Ha. I honestly wanted to ask him whether all the acting was exhausting. Last night I'd seen it on Tiffany's Instagram.

She was losing her mind that Julian was coming to Boston to spend the anniversary with me. Tiffany: [Hating a whole city over one person.

Tomorrow I'm dragging somebody back out of Boston!] She'd even worked my initials into the curse.

My roommate said that the whole time he waited downstairs, he never stopped fiddling with his phone. Frantic to find me, sure.

More likely he was hunting for me with one hand and running his pushpull with Tiffany with the other, keeping her warm, keeping her strung along. I gave him a push.

He dropped his head onto my shoulder and refused to move. The whole heartbroken, devoted, beggingforforgiveness picture. Julian, oh, Julian.

Don't act it so long you start believing it yourself. That was when his phone rang. I felt him go rigid. "Answer it," I said. He didn't move.

Mumbled into my shoulder, "Don't want to. Just want to lean on you." But the other end wouldn't quit. Didn't get an answer, kept calling.

I clicked my tongue. "It's driving me up a wall. Answer it. Any longer and I'll start thinking you're scared to." The breath against the side of my neck caught. Julian was nervous.

Seeing he couldn't fake his way past it, Julian straightened and pulled out his phone. For one second, the two of us were exactly like rivals, each hiding our own hand.

Julian was terrified the caller was Tiffany. He'd probably already braced to hit decline and kill the power if it was her. Me, I was the opposite.

Because this was my frontrow seat to Julian making a fool of himself trying to cover it all up. Chapter 9 Too bad for me. Tiffany did have a little cunning in her.

A little finesse. She'd had one of Julian's friends make the call.

When Julian saw the name on his screen, he let out a quiet breath of relief, and the corner of his mouth even ticked up.

To prove his "innocence," he made a point of putting it on speaker. "Julian, man, what are you doing? Call you and you don't pick up." "Trent's out of the hospital.

Everyone's getting together tonight. You're the only one missing." Julian turned it down without a beat of thought. "Can't make it. I'm with my girlfriend.

Later." "Whoa, don't hang up. We know you two are tight, but eyes only for your girl and none for your bros?

That's cold, man!" They laid it on thick, the whole group razzing him not to be so whipped. Julian scoffed. "My eyes are only on my girl. Yeah.

Now quit crashing our alone time." He hung up and sat there practically begging to be praised. I asked him, "Who's Trent?" Julian: "Soccer team with me.

Sprained his ankle a while back." A lot really had changed without my noticing. Before, every last detail of Julian's life got reported straight to me.

Now here was a friend he hung out with all the time, and I'd never even heard the name. Julian clearly caught it too, and hurried to smooth it over. I smiled.

Gave him the first warm look I'd given him in days. "I was mad at you, that's true. But I was in the wrong today too." "Your friends went to all this trouble to invite you.

Go." He shook his head, hard. "No. I'm staying with you." I kept the smile soft and sweet. "Then I'll come with you.

I want to know more about your life anyway." Julian lit up like I'd handed him the whole world. "Perfect. Wren, you gave me the silent treatment for days.

I was scared out of my mind." "Come on. I'll grab us tickets." Tiffany wanted to drag Julian back so badly, didn't she? Fine. I'd deliver him right to her door myself.

Julian was so thrilled the cold war was over that he talked the whole way there, nonstop. We got to the private room where the party was.

The second he walked in, that big smile slid right off his face. His friends were each tangled up with some pretty young thing, having the time of their lives.

Julian clapped one hand over my eyes and grabbed mine with the other, already turning to leave. "Julian, don't go!" The guys scrambled up and grabbed at him with a dozen hands, throwing looks at the girls to clear out. "Wren, please don't take it the wrong way.

Julian's a total gentleman.

A hundred percent devoted to you." "That was just us idiots messing around." Julian pried the arm off his neck and gave a deadserious warning. "You think that's funny?

My Wren's shy. She can't stand this kind of filth. If she took it seriously, I'd never live it down." And just like that.

The whole room broke into teasing laughter at him, and every last one of them turned to apologize to me. Chapter 10 Party, they called it.

But once Julian finished the introductions, all he did was peel mandarins and pour drinks for me. I gave two small coughs.

He had a hand on my forehead in an instant, then swept a look around the room until every smoker had stubbed out their cigarette. He cracked a window for air.

Even grabbed the AC remote and nudged the temperature up a few degrees. The one they called Trent couldn't take it. "Julian, come on, isn't this a bit much?

I spent half a month flat on a hospital bed and you can't spare me one word? All you do is talk to Wren." Julian chucked a mandarin at him. "Yeah, obviously.

I only came because Wren told me to. The rest of you are just riding her coattails." Trent kicked off the toast, lifting his glass. "Serves you right, you lucky punk.

Landing a girlfriend this good." "Wren. To you." I smiled, raised my glass, and drank with them.

We sat a while longer, then I told Julian I was a little tired and wanted to head back to the hotel first. Julian was on his feet and into his coat, ready to leave with me.

I caught his arm. "Don't kill everyone's fun. Stay and hang out a while." He kept at it. "That cough, are you coming down with something? Anything hurt?

Forget it, I'll just take you back." I pushed him toward the door, half laughing. "Stop being so dramatic.

Keep this up and what are your friends going to think of me?" Only then did Julian grudgingly stay put. I didn't actually leave.

I slipped to the bathroom, then found a couch tucked into a dim corner, sat down, and waited. The show was about to start.

The girls who'd been shooed out earlier came filing back in. Fast. Then Tiffany arrived. Makeup flawless and sultry, stiletto boots, chin tipped up as she pushed the door open.

A hand hooked around her and pulled her in against his chest. Julian. The room exploded into rowdy jeers and laughter. "I almost died holding that in just now, Julian.

You got my very best acting tonight." "Screw you. I texted every single one of you from the car to keep it together and not pull anything.

You're lucky I didn't rip into you." "If you're mad, go yell at Tiff. She's the one who told us to do it. You gonna yell at her?" Tiffany let out a little hmph. "He wouldn't dare.

I said he doesn't get his anniversary, so he doesn't get his anniversary." "Ha! Tiff runs this. Kiss her! Kiss her!" Then those sounds. Soft. Suggestive. Disgusting.

Truly, deeply disgusting. I got my head straight, picked up my phone, and texted Julian. Me: [Been thinking it over. It's not every day I get to meet your friends.

Ducking out early would be kind of rude.] Me: [I grabbed you all some hangover soup. Be there in a bit.] A yelp of pain went up inside the room