The Allure of Julian Lefray

  I glanced over my shoulder and snuck a peek at Julian. He was firing away on his keyboard with his brows subtly tugged together, a sign of concentration. I loved watching him while he worked. He hit enter on whatever he was typing, leaned back on the couch, and caught my stare.

  An earthquake would have taken a backseat to that stare. My heart leapt in my chest as a slow, seductive smile spread across his lips. The breath of my lungs, the beat of my heart, the basic ability to pull my gaze away from him—they were all under his control. The connection between us was stronger than any willpower I could have mustered.

  “Julian, what’s the website for the architecture firm we’re meeting with this afternoon?” Lorena asked, interrupting our moment.

  Oh right, maybe stop eye-fucking Julian while his sister is around.

  I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and turned back to good ol’ Central Park.

  Concentrate. Open your email. Pretend to type something. It can be gibberish, just stop sitting there like you’re frozen.

  I’d managed to get through half an email when Lorena stood to use the restroom a few minutes later. My fingers froze over my computer keys as I processed that she’d be gone for a few minutes. There was absolutely no way I would let the opportunity slip by me. The second the door to the bathroom locked into place, I pushed off my chair and ran to Julian as quietly as possible. He shoved his laptop aside, stood, and reached for my face. He cupped my cheeks in his palms as our lips met.

  That kiss.

  That kiss was a sucker punch to my gut. That kiss was Julian laying claim to my soul. I was on the fringe of insanity, swept up in the feel of him. I was wholeheartedly convinced that we could have a quickie while Lorena was in the bathroom, and then I heard the toilet flush.

  Julian and I flew apart like we’d just been caught red-handed. My heart hammered in my chest as I glanced to the bathroom and then back to Julian. His devilish smile didn’t help matters. I laughed and shook my head, giving myself another foot of distance between us.

  Damn. Would it kill Lorena to take her time? Get comfortable in there. Read a book!

  “I’m going to ask her to grab us lunch,” Julian said, running his hand down the length of my arm before tucking it away in his pocket.

  I tilted my head. “Why?”

  “Because I want fifteen minutes alone with you before the meeting with the architecture firm this afternoon,” he said, bending to steal one last kiss before the bathroom door opened.

  Alrighty then.

  “Are you guys okay?” Lorena asked with a skeptical tone. When she’d gone into the bathroom, we’d been sitting down and working quietly. Now, we were standing together in the center of the room, panting as if we’d just finished a triathlon.

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “Julian and I are doing our work yoga.”

  What?

  She arched a brow. “What’s that?”

  I laughed as if she was crazy, my brain working overtime to come up with an answer. “Oh. Uh, you just pause every hour on the hour and do five minutes of stretching.” I turned to Julian. “Go ahead, Julian. Show her your downward dog.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Josephine

  I stared at my open laptop in front of me, wondering how I’d managed to sit at my kitchen counter for an hour and not type a single word. I had three blog posts to write for the coming week, a Greyhound ticket to purchase, a giant check to deposit in my account, and a hundred or so emails to respond to, one of which was from Vogue.

  I’d yet to tell Julian that I was heading home to Texas for a few days. It wasn’t because I was purposely keeping things from him, we just hadn’t had a moment alone to talk where we weren’t attacking one another. Since Saturday, I’d had interview request after interview request from blogs and news channels wanting the inside scoop about the “Cinderella of New York Fashion Week”. It was all a bit surreal, but with each passing day my social media followers continued to double. I was supposed to have had dinner with Julian the night before, but I’d had to cancel last minute to do an interview with People Magazine. It was just a short piece, not the front page or anything, but still! I couldn’t very well turn down People Magazine. I knew the timing of everything was terrible. Julian and I had finally decided to sleep together, and the very next day, my life had exploded into chaos.

  I reached for my phone, knowing I’d have a better chance of getting everything out if I texted him. I drafted a short and sweet message and hit send before I got distracted by another incoming email. My inbox was currently hovering at around 132 unread messages, all from important people, all vying for my attention.

  Josephine: Hey, my dad is turning 60 next week, so I have to head home to Texas to celebrate with him. It won’t be for long.

  Julian: What? When do you leave?

  I glanced at my calendar hanging on the front of my fridge.

  Josephine: Three days.

  How had the days crept up on me?

  Julian: Way to give a guy some warning…

  Josephine: Are you mad?

  Julian: No. Why would I be? I just wish your dad lived in New York.

  The image of my dad wandering around the streets of New York was almost too comical to consider.

  Josephine: Believe me, you don’t want him living here.

  Julian: How long will you be gone?

  Josephine: Just for a few days, but I’ll be bringing Lily back with me. She’s moving into my apartment.

  Julian: Sounds like trouble.

  I smiled. With Lily moving in with me, there definitely would be trouble…I just hoped it was the good kind.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Julian

  “Julian, how did my shoe get stuck in the lamp?” Josephine asked as I buttoned up my pants.

  I turned to look over my shoulder. Sure enough, Josephine’s high heel was wedged between the wall of Dean’s boat and the bedside lamp. A few inches to the left and I would have busted the light bulb.

  “I think I was just ripping stuff off you,” I explained. “I don’t have great aim when you have your shirt off.”

  She glared at me and then bent to retrieve her shirt from the floor. I’d wanted to just throw it overboard but I knew she would have killed me. Even still, as she buttoned her blouse back up, I took every opportunity to get my fill of her while I could.

  “They’re breasts, Julian,” she laughed. “You can literally type ‘boobs’ into Google and see half a million of them.”

  I smirked. “None quite as perfect as yours though. I know; I’ve tried to find them.”

  She reached to throw one of Dean’s pillows at my head and I realized I’d underestimated her ability as it clocked me in the side of the face.

  “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry!” she said, rushing toward me. “You were supposed to duck.”

  I laughed. “It didn’t hurt, Jo. It’s a pillow.”

  She held my hands back so she could get a good look at the side of my face and I made the most disgusting face I could imagine.

  “It’s okay, right?” I joked.

  She rolled her eyes. “Even with pillow-face, you’re still the hottest guy I know.”

  I smiled. “Is that why you let me sneak you down here?”

  We’d both had a free Saturday afternoon and I’d come up with the brilliant idea to sneak onto Dean’s boat to finish what we’d started weeks ago. Fortunately, I knew where Dean hid a spare set of keys to the cabin. We’d decided to skip over the boat’s bed; laundering sheets isn’t really my thing. Instead, we started out in the cabin and then made our way to the bathroom and beyond. Dean’s boat had officially been christened.

  She let go of my hands and turned back to retrieve her pants from the floor.

  “To be honest, I have zero willpower where you’re concerned,” she admitted.

  I grinned. “Good. That works in my favor.”

  We spent a few minutes cleaning up Dean’s boat and ensuring we left it in the same state that we’d found
it. Dean was a stickler for order. Every single piece of furniture had to be in an exact spot. His obsessive behavior extended into all areas of his life, which is probably why his businesses were so successful.

  “Seriously, the cabinets in here are labeled,” Jo yelled from the bathroom. “He has little tags that say ‘towels’ and ‘toilet paper’.”

  I laughed.

  “I feel bad for the girl who ends up with him,” she said. “Could you imagine living with him?!”

  I tried to recall one of Dean’s girlfriends. There were dates every now and then, but I couldn’t recall a single woman who’d managed to hold his attention or met his standards for more than a few weeks.

  “I don’t think he’s planning on settling down anytime soon anyway. He’s too busy taking over the earth,” I said.

  She walked out of the bathroom a few minutes later after declaring it clean.

  “And what about you?” she asked.

  “Am I too busy to settle down?”

  She nodded and watched me carefully.

  I smiled. “I care more about enjoying earthly pleasures. You can put the towels and toilet paper wherever you want, so long as you keep doing that thing with your tongue.”

  She stepped forward and kissed me. I reached out to hold her against me to prolong the kiss as long as possible, but she was too quick.

  “Why am I not surprised by that answer?” she asked.

  I shrugged and attempted to concentrate on much more pressing matters, like my stomach.

  “I’m starving. Are you hungry?”

  Her smile faltered. “I have to head home and pack.”

  “Pack for what?” I asked, forcing a calm demeanor. In reality, it felt like someone had hit me in my gut as hard as they could.

  She crossed her arms.

  “I’m going home for a week to visit my dad for his 60th birthday, remember? Stop giving me that look!”

  I immediately changed my face. What? Was I frowning or something?

  “Already?” I asked, confused by how quickly time had passed in the last few days.

  She nodded.

  Another punch to my gut, this time a little more on its mark. I tugged my hands through my hair, trying to calm down. Why did it feel like she was leaving for good? Maybe because in the last seven days, she’d hardly had any time for me. Part of the reason I’d stolen her away to Dean’s boat was because I knew she wouldn’t be able to get cell service out at the marina.

  “I leave tomorrow.”

  WHAT?

  Calm down, asshole. It’s only a few days.

  It’s nothing.

  “I wish you weren’t leaving tomorrow.”

  You were supposed to calm down before you spoke…

  She furrowed her brows and crossed her arms tighter. Her green eyes, usually clear and inviting, were warning me to relax.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, though she didn’t sound like she actually was. “I didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal.”

  Shit. Shit. Shit. I was fucking all this up. It wasn’t a big deal.

  I stepped closer and reached for her hands; she kept them wrapped around her waist until I pried them away and clutched them tightly.

  “What if I got us some takeout and came to your place to help you pack?” I asked.

  I didn’t care if I sounded desperate. I was a little desperate, and what did it matter as long as Dean wasn’t around to hear me sound like a sad sap?

  Her face softened. “Chinese?”

  I smiled. “Whatever you want.”

  She nodded. “Okay, but I seriously have to pack. I leave at 6:00 in the morning and haven’t even printed out my ticket.”

  I held up my hands as a sign of innocence.

  She arched her brow and I smiled. She knew me better than that.

  “All right, I’ll be honest. I had plans to take advantage of you once you were in a wonton-induced haze, but now, I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  What Jo Wore

  Post #1270: Welcome!

  Comments: 1,340 Likes: 23,009

  Hello to all my new followers! Many of you found me from the Marc Jacobs show, but I’d like to invite you to relax and stay a while. I hope you’ll find that my blog is full of great advice for the beauty obsessed on a budget. You can check out my past beauty guides, fashion posts, and hair style guides in the archives section of the site.

  Once you’re done with that, I just posted a new video on YouTube highlighting a few of my favorite homemade lip stains. I’m a MAJOR fan of lip stains! They have the same dramatic effect of lipstick without the mess. Not to mention, I’ve learned from experience that they withstand even the hottest make-out sessions. More on that later though ;)

  For now, check out my video below.

  Until tomorrow,

  XOJO

  …

  Josephine

  I told myself I couldn’t miss Julian while I was in Texas because we weren’t really dating, but my brain wouldn’t listen. We’d had sex eleven times. (Twelve if I counted the time he went down on me on my couch. That had been an out of body experience. Mouth-finger coordination was one of his fortes.) On top of that, he’d taken me out for exactly three frozen yogurts and five pre-coitus meals. What the hell were we doing if it wasn’t dating? I refused to think of it as friends with benefits—I have a vibrator for that. His name is Larry and he’s much lower maintenance than Julian.

  I was nervous about my trip to Texas, not only because I was leaving things with Julian a tad up in the air, but also because in the last few months, there’d only been a handful of days that we hadn’t seen each other. A week straight would be a new test—one I knew I wouldn’t easily pass.

  I stared out at the bus terminal through my tiny window and wished I could fast-forward seven days ahead. I wished that instead of sitting on the bus, waiting to start my journey to Texas, I was already back and about to meet up with Julian for some steamy reunion sex. (Because, duh, that’s gonna be awesome.)

  “Lady, is this seat taken?”

  I glanced over my shoulder to find an older woman wearing a yellow muumuu and clutching a giant fabric bag that reminded me of my grandmother’s old curtains. She reeked of cigarette smoke and what I could only assume was the faint stench of cat pee.

  Oh no. Nononono. This isn’t happening.

  I glanced around the bus to see if there were still vacant seats. There were plenty, at least ten or twelve near the back, yet she wanted to sit right beside me.

  What was I going to do? Lie? I had two days of traveling on the bus with her. She’d clearly find out if I lied and then I’d have to suffer her death stares for the rest of the ride. No thanks. I didn’t want to be found dead on the side of some highway.

  I nodded and smiled timidly, ensuring that my carryon bag was tucked between my legs so she’d have plenty of room. She took the seat beside me and I held my breath, wondering just how long I could get away with breathing through my mouth.

  “I brought a tuna sandwich for lunch,” she said. “They never stop enough and my doctor says I have to watch my blood sugar like a hawk.”

  I swear my eye twitched as I tried to keep from saying something obviously rude in reply. She didn’t notice my silence and kept right on talking. There were fifteen minutes of people filing onto the bus and her sentences just kept on coming.

  “I have disc issues in my neck, so I like to rest my head on my neighbor so that I can get some good shuteye. Don’t worry though, you can do the same to me, I don’t mind.”

  Awesome.

  “If I pass gas while I’m asleep just nudge me awake. I think I let this sandwich sit out a little too long this morning.”

  Perfect.

  “You don’t mind if I take the middle armrest, right? My elbow is arthritic.”

  Great. I’ll just wedge myself against the glass and pray for death.

  With each passing word, I slid down lower and lower in my chair. I’
d walked the runway of NYFW a week earlier and yet I couldn’t afford a plane ticket home. Instead I had to spend 46 hours next to this bag of bones as she farted on my face?

  How is this my life!?

  I didn’t give myself another second to sit in self-pity. I pulled out my laptop, logged on to the Greyhound’s wifi (thank god for that), and pulled up the email from Vogue—the email I’d been avoiding for the past week. I knew Elizabeth was waiting for my reply, and I’d drafted one right away. I’d actually drafted fifteen, I just didn’t think any of them were good enough to send yet.

  I reread the first part of the email and then checked through the items she’d requested I send: cover letter, resume, and a portfolio filled with my best blog posts, Instagram photos, and Twitter posts. They wanted proof that I could create new, interesting content for their readers, so I also had to include a short presentation of what I could offer the Vogue team that would differ from the other applicants.

  All in all, it didn’t seem so bad. I jotted down a list of things to get done during the bus ride, praying my laptop would stay charged long enough for me to finish. Then, I scanned back down the email and froze as I caught sight of two words:

  Signing. Bonus.

  My stomach dropped.

  Ms. Keller, I’d also like to inform you that you would receive a one-time signing bonus. This isn’t standard protocol, but our social media team really has their eye set on you and we’ve come up with a number that we hope adequately reflects our interest.

  I stared at the sum listed at the bottom of the email, counting the zeros three or four times before I decided that they were actually there. The signing bonus she’d listed was more money than I’d ever had in my bank account at one time. It was more money than I hoped to save in the next five years. It would cover the rest of my student loan debt and then leave me with a few thousand left over. Most importantly, it was far too much money to ignore.