Daniel
“You’resure you don’tmind?”
I turned my head on the seat to look at Julian’s profile. The cut of his jaw made me want to lean in and kiss him, as it always did these days, and the tiny patch of hair near the apex of his chin did funny things to mychest.
Trust Julian to shave the tricky back area perfectly, but to miss the most obvious spot right near the front. Trustmeto find such a weird thingadorable.
“For the third time, Jules: no, I don’t mind going to the Light Parade. Do you want me to tattoo itsomewhere?”
Julian darted a glance at me and then turned back to the road that led to the center of town. “You didn’t seem particularly excited when I mentioned it to you, that’sall.”
I sighed. My feelings about the parade were similar to my feelings about my divorce from Ingrid: fifty percent acceptance, forty percent annoyance, ten percent non-specific dread. But Julian had asked me with that cute little lip-bite he sometimes did, and his blue eyes had shone with vulnerability, like he was expecting me to say no and had already prepared himself for it, and what the hell could I say butyes?
“I didn’t say I wasexcited. Not about the lights, anyway. Can’t say I’m excited about the crowd, either. But you said there’ll be free food.” I grinned. “And my fake boyfriend will be there to defend me from any irate villagers with pitchforks. Or any crows that want to harass me out of mynest.”
Julian rolled his eyes. “You won’t need defending. And yeah, there’ll be a ton of free food. Cal and Ash will be there with pastries. I think Goode’s is passing out cocoa. Burger Geek has some kind of burger things.” He hesitated. “I do need to run the table for my mom for most of the event, though. So, you can either stay with me or walk around on your own, if you think you’ll bebored.”
“Yep. You said that. Do you have a preference? Want me to stand by your side like a good fake boyfriend? Or wander around so I’m not distractingyou?”
“Either,” Julian said quickly. “Whichever. Your call.Totallyyourcall.”
“Oookay.” I narrowed my eyes. “Guess we’ll play it by earthen.”
Julian nodded, and we lapsed into silence broken only by some old-fashioned Christmas carols playing softly on the radio. The silence itself was nothing new—one of the things that had made our friendship so remarkable was the way we’d always shared easy silences, and neither of us felt the need to smooth over the awkwardness with meaningless conversation. But this silence felt fraught—the sugar coating over something bitter, the smooth layer of dirt over agrave.
I turned my head again, this time letting it lean against the cold glass of the passenger’s window, and tried to figure out exactly when shit with Julian had started to go so spectacularly wrong. Was it the moment I kissed him? Was it the second we agreed to be friends with benefits? Was it the minute after we’d first come together on my couch two weeks ago, when I’d felt the tug to make this situation permanent, even though I knew Julian could do so much better? Or was the whole thing doomed from the moment I met him, since I was shit atrelationships?
Lose one friend, maybe it’s no one’s fault. Lose your wife, all your friends, your career, and the respect of your parents, though, and you can’t help but notice the commonthread.
“We’ll park around back, in the alley behind the clinic,” Julian said as he glided the car through the crowded streets. “Most of Weaver is blocked off for the parade already, and I’d bet all the on-street parking istaken.”
“Sure.”
He pulled into an open spot just a couple doors down from the rear door to the clinic, a door I was very familiar with, since I used it more often than not when Julian and I spent time together in town. But today, when he got out of the SUV, he took a second to pat the roof of the tarp-covered car that rested on cement blocks besideit.
“What’s that?” I asked when Julian walked away. “Is ityours?”
“Oh.” Julian’s cheeks were pink, and I didn’t think it was from the cold. “Yeah. It’s my old car. My first car.” He strode down the alleyway like we were late, though if anything we were early. “I think it’s better if we walk back here all the way down to the church. It’s only a block down, but I can hear how crowded it is already,and—”
I leaned down and lifted the corner of the tarp to reveal a bright red exterior. “Oh my God! What kind of car isit?”
Julian stopped and turned but didn’t walk back. “A 1990 Toyota Celica. We should really getgoing.”
“Oh.” Not exactly a Ferrari, but still. “Is it a convertible? Why’s it up on blocks? How did I not know you hadthis?”
Julian sighed and braced his hands on his hips. “Yes, it’s a convertible. It’s up on blocks because it’s not registered anymore. And you didn’t know I had it because it never came up. Sometimes I even forget it’s there.” He licked his lips. “You know my mom’s going to start texting any minute,right?”
“Jules, we’re way early.” I pulled the tarp up further. “This thing is in great shape! Why not put it on the road?” I loved the sleek lines of the car—it was cute and a little unexpected, just likeJulian.
“It’s over a quarter century old, Daniel. It needs work. It’d be…expensive.”
I made a face, but nodded. I was clueless about cars except when it came to driving them or riding in them. “Maybe sell it, then. Some collector would love it andcould…”
“I’m not selling it.” Jules stalked forward and snatched the edge of the cover from my grip, smoothing it back into place. “I’m not registering it, I’m not fixing it, I’m not driving it. I like this car exactly where it is. Now can we go to the fuckingparade?”
I looked at him in shock, my hand still outstretched. “What’s your problem,Julian?”
“I don’t have a problem,Daniel. I just want to get to the place we said we were going. Or, you know what? You don’t really want to go anyway, so why don’t you just take my car and gohome?”
