And what about me? I’m straight, so why am I having this reaction?
Maybe I’m not as certain about my own sexuality as I assume. Especially when a sex scene comes on the screen, and my neck burns. I imagine the couple on-screen is Julian and me, and I think about how it would feel to run my hands over his chest, to feel his breath mixing with mine, to feel his calloused hands on my bare skin?—
No.
This isn’t me.
“My dad wants me to come home,” Julian says, interrupting my thoughts. “Since you’re not going to be here next semester, maybe I should take him up on his offer.”
His words cut through my existential crisis, and I swing around to face him fully. “Back to England?” I ask, my voice hard and accusatory. “I’m moving across campus, not across the world,” I add.
Julian’s jaw hardens. He still won’t look at me. “Oh, so it’s okay if you move out, but it’s not okay if I do?”
I scowl at him. “What? That’s not?—”
“Duty calls, Ravage. You should know that better than anyone,” he says, and his voice is so… melancholy.Unfriendly.
My chest aches as I stare at my best friend.
I knew he’d have to go back to England after college. As the eldest Ashford son, and a baron or a viscount, I think—not that it mattered—his responsibility to his title is inevitable.
“I don’t want you to move back,” I say.
Julian’s jaw feathers as he stares at the TV screen. “What’s the point in staying in an empty dorm room, or applying for a room next year? I don’t really want to live with anyone else.”
“But your degree?—”
“My degree?” he asks, scoffing. “I can finish a liberal arts program anywhere. In fact, I’m sure Oxford or Cambridge would be happy to oblige another Ashford,” he adds, sounding almost disgusted at the prospect. “It’s not like I need to get a job after university with my connections.”
I swallow hard, my thoughts spinning. This feels wrong. I only intended to tell him about seminary. I thought we’d discuss housing. It was supposed to besimple.And yet, it’s somehow spiraled into something deeper. Rubbing the ache in my chest, I tell myself it’s not a big deal, though it feels like a turning point, somehow.
If Julian goes back to England, I won’t see him every day. The thought grips me harder than it should, twisting in my chest.
I can’t even make sense of it, but the idea of him being gone feels unbearable, like more than just physical distance.
What the hell am I so afraid of?
“It feels like you’re punishing me for moving across campus,” I offer.
Julian finally turns to face me, and his eyes flash with fury. “You’re being a hypocrite.”
I huff out an outraged laugh, climbing off the bed. “You wouldn’t be leaving if I wasn’t. If anything, you’re the hypocrite,” I accuse, nostrils flaring.
Julian climbs off the bed too, and the movie drones on behind him.
“A heads-up would’ve been nice,” he says through gritted teeth. “I spoke to my father yesterday and told him to fuck off, just so you know.”
“Then don’t go!” I say. My voice is too loud, because Julian’s eyes widen just a fraction. “No one is making you go back to jolly good England, Julian. I’ll be a five-minute walk away. I don’t understand what the big deal?—”
“I already told you I don’t want to live with anyone else,” he offers, narrowing his eyes and walking closer to me.
For years, I was taller than him. But in the last year or two, he’s gained a couple of inches.
It suits him. Julian’s personality is larger than life, so it makes sense that his physique would follow suit.
“Why? They might not even assign a new roommate for next semester, and then you can get one of those single rooms next year.”
He looks away, and I watch him as he shuffles his feet. The Julian Ashford I know could talk to a frog for hours. He gets along with everyone. People love his accent, his charisma, his charm. Any future roommate would be lucky to have him.
