Julian & Lia

by Maria Monroe

  I do, a little bit.

  "Lia, wider. Spread your legs all the way open for me."

  "OK," I murmur, the coldness from the air hitting my wet pussy as I do. I am completely open for him, so vulnerable and exposed, and I feel myself growing wetter just from this position, and from the way he's looking at me with a dark hunger in his emerald eyes.

  For a few moments he just stares at me, and the anticipation feels like too much to handle. Finally, he puts a finger in his mouth, sucks it while staring into my eyes, then reaches out and touches me. I'm spread so wide, so open and sensitive, that his first touch sends a delicious shock through me, and I jerk and cry out in pleasure.

  Julian smiles. "Hold still, baby."

  "I can't," I whisper.

  "You will."

  "Oh god, Julian."

  He moves in between my legs, his breath so hot on my thighs, then he licks me, just once. When I groan, he looks up at me. "Don't come, Lia."

  "Please, Julian."

  "No. I want you to come when I'm inside of you," he says, and the mere thought of that happening here, tonight, in just a little while, is almost enough to put me over the edge.

  "OK," I whimper, as he moves back in with his tongue, gently circling my clit, licking my wetness, then softly biting my clit—oh god, the pleasure, mixed with a tiny bit of pain. It's so much.

  "I think you're almost ready," he says. I feel one of his fingers slide inside of me, and despite his command to stay still my body writhes in response "How does it feel," he asks, "to know that in just a few minutes, I'm going to be all the way inside of you?"

  I moan, unable to speak.

  "Is that what you want?"

  "Yes," I whisper.

  "Say it."

  "I want you all the way inside of me, Julian." My voice is hoarse with desire.

  "Lia," he says, pulling his finger out and grabbing the condom from the table. "Are you sure about this?"

  "I'm sure." I've never been more sure about anything in my entire life. My body shakes with anticipation, and maybe a little bit of fear, but I'm so ready and wet and hot, and I can't wait for him. I watch as he slowly rips open the packet, then rolls the condom down the length of his huge erection.

  "Are you sure it's going to fit?" I whisper, and he lets out a strangled laugh.

  "I'll go slow. The first time, at least," he says, then kisses me hard. "You're so tight, baby. I'll go slow."

  When his lips leave mine, he whispers, "Lie down," and pushes me back gently onto the couch. "It's going to hurt the first time. I'll stop if you need me to, all right?"

  "OK," I whisper.

  "Are you ready?"

  "Yes."

  He pushes my legs apart gently and touches me again. I am so wet and ready, and when he moves his body between my legs, I breathe out. This is it. I can feel the tip of his cock, right at my entrance. It's so hard, and he's so big, and I know it will hurt, but I want this so, so badly. His eyes are on mine, his expression so dark and intense. I shut my eyes, but he says, "No, Lia. Keep your eyes open."

  Oh my god. I open my eyes and stare at his face. His jaw is hard, and I can see a muscle twitch as he looks back at me. Keeping his eyes trained on mine, he reaches down to guide himself into place, and I breathe in quickly as the tip of him slowly enters me.

  "Relax, Lia," he whispers.

  "OK," I say softly.

  Suddenly, I hear a sound—oh my god, is that the front door opening?—and a look of sheer horror appears on Julian's face.

  He's off me in a second, grabbing a pillow to cover himself while he throws me the blanket from the back of the couch.

  "What the fuck? Vanessa? What are you doing here?" he practically shouts.

  Oh. My. God. She hasn't seen me yet, and I wonder if there's any chance that I can get out of here without her knowing it's me her brother is with.

  "What the fuck yourself," she says blithely. "Sorry to interrupt you and your flavor of the day."

  "What are you doing here?" Julian's getting his jeans on, tossing my clothes on top of the blanket that's covering me.

  "Ride canceled until tomorrow morning. I was at a friend's house and now I'm here. It's my place too, you know."

  As she makes her way to her bedroom, she crosses in front of the couch. I will her not to look, to just keep going, to ignore the girl her brother was about to screw on their living room couch. She's almost there, almost in her room, which would give me enough time to grab my clothes and get out, when she turns her head to me. Vanessa stops completely, as if frozen.

  "Lia?" She's staring right at me.

  "Vanessa . . . " I begin.

  "Holy shit," she says.

  "Vanessa, look," says Julian, but Vanessa cuts him off.

  "No," she says, shaking her head. "OK. You guys are old enough to decide who you're going to fuck. But I asked both of you about this. You both said no. You're just friends. Except? It really doesn't look that to me."

  "I'm sorry," I say desperately.

  "Whatever," she responds. "I don't even really care if you're fucking my brother. But lying to me? That's messed up."

  "I'm sorry," I repeat.

  But she shakes her head and disappears into her room, slamming the door.

  "Fuck," whispers Julian. "I'm so sorry, Lia."

  I scramble to get my clothes on. "I knew this would happen." Tears are threatening to fall.

  "I'll talk to her. We'll drive home tomorrow together, and I'll talk to her, OK?"

  "Yeah," I say, but I'm not sure he can convince her to overlook the fact that we went behind her back and then lied about it.

  "I'll text you."

  I nod and grab my coat, running out of their house as quickly as I can.

  It's not until I'm back at my dorm room that I realize I took Julian's hoodie instead of my coat. His favorite hoodie. He'll be so pissed. I can't go back there, so I send him a quick text: I have your hoodie. Took it by mistake. Stop by if you need it.

  I wait for a response, sure he'll text me back quickly. But an hour passes, and I still haven't received a reply. I put on his sweatshirt, crawl into bed and go to sleep.

  ***

  "Honey, is everything OK?" I've been home for a day and a half, and despite my assurances that college is going great, my mom can tell that something's bothering me.

  "Yeah," I say. I'm helping her empty the dishwasher, a task I actually don't mind right now because it's mindless work that keeps me occupied rather than sitting around and worrying about Julian and Vanessa.

  "You just seem really distracted."

  "I am. But not in a bad way. Just . . . lots going on at school."

  "And friends?" she asks. I can tell she's trying not to sound too hopeful. I'm not much of an extrovert, and since I've had the same best friend since first grade, she knows I don't find it easy to branch out and make new friends with great frequency.

  "A few. My roommate is OK. Greer. You met her when you moved me in? But we don't really hang out. I kind of spend most of my free time with this brother and sister. They're twins, actually." I put a plate, white with tiny blue flowers along the edges, up in the cabinet. It’s from the same set we’ve been using since I was a kid, and being home feels good, like I can let down my guard and just relax.

  "Oh that's nice. Are they in your classes? Are they freshmen too?"

  "No, they're seniors."

  "Oh. OK. So they’re older."

  "Yeah. But just a few years. And I feel like they're easier to be with than some of the students my own age. Like, everyone's trying too hard to fit in and be cool, and Vanessa and Julian have already been through that, you know? They don't have anything to prove. They're nice."

  "I just want you to be happy." She finishes wiping off the kitchen table, hangs up the hand towel, and gives me a hug. She’s got the same smell she’s always had, Tide detergent mixed with just a hint of Sunflowers perfume, the same perfume she’s worn since I was little. It’s become somewhat of a running joke that
every year on Mother’s Day I get her a new bottle. I miss my parents, and I know it's hard for them to have me gone. I'm an only child, and they've always been a big part of my life.

  "I am happy," I say, though that's not quite true. I was happy. Now? I don't even know what's going on.

  Later that night, in my bedroom, I pull on Julian's hoodie, which of course I brought home, and settle onto my bed. I wonder why he hasn't texted me yet. Did something happen? Is Vanessa so upset that he's decided to put an end to things with me? I wouldn't blame him if he did, but I hope it's not the case. The look on Vanessa's face keeps coming back to me, half horror, half hatred, and I wish I could go back in time and undo that moment, never show up at Julian's that night, have things go back to the way they were.

  ***

  I try to read on my plane ride back to Maine after vacation, but it's impossible. Throughout the flight, my mind refuses to focus on my book, and instead all I can think about is Julian. Why didn't he call or text? Even if things are messed up with Vanessa, even if she's not OK with the two of us being together, surely he could at least let me know he's still alive. Nausea roils in my stomach the closer we get, and by the time the plane lands, I'm shaky and weak, both from nerves and being too upset to eat all day. I try to talk myself out of how I'm feeling. It's ridiculous, after all, to be physically sick just from being worried about something, but I can't help it. I trudge through the airport to the taxi line outside, where I settle into the back seat of a cab for a very long and expensive trip back to campus.

  Back in my dorm, I half expect—or hope, really—to find Julian leaning against my door waiting for me, but all I find is Greer, bubbling about how she and Danny are officially back together and how he texted her non-stop during Thanksgiving break. Listening to Greer is actually a nice distraction for me, until she stops mid-sentence and stares at me hard.

  "What are you wearing, Lia?" Her eyes get all big—theatrically big—and she points at Julian's sweatshirt which, if I'm being honest, I wore every single day since I accidentally took it from his house.

  "Oh. Just, you know, a sweatshirt."

  "Uh, that's not just a sweatshirt, and you know it? You. Are wearing. Julian's sweatshirt! Oh my god!"

  "It's . . . uh . . . I accidentally took it before break. I'm just, you know, keeping it safe."

  "You guys are totally going out, aren't you?" She sinks down on the bed, still staring at me. "He is, like, so freaking hot? Oh my god."

  "We're not going out," I say weakly. It's the truth, though we came so close to dating. Until we messed up. Until Vanessa realized what huge assholes we both are.

  "Really." Greer's tone lets me know she doesn't believe me, not even a bit, and it would be useless to argue with her, so I change the subject back to Danny, which is relatively easy to do. Greer loves to talk about herself.

  "I gotta do some laundry, Greer," I say after awhile, suddenly glad I left my laundry basket full of dirty clothes over break because now it gives me something to occupy my time.

  "Oh, Lia, can you throw in a few of my things? Please?"

  I roll my eyes before turning back to her. "Sure, Greer." I try to keep any obvious annoyance out of my voice. "Just throw them in my basket."

  I lug the over-filled basket in one arm and my detergent in the other down the hallway to the laundry room, where I quickly stuff as much as I can fit into a machine, pour in some detergent without measuring it, and start the washer. Then I settle down with one of Greer's old Cosmo magazines, hoping for some alone time in the laundry room.

  I'm halfway through a quiz that Greer's already taken, entitled What Kind of Sexy Are You? (Greer apparently is “Bombshell Sexy”), when the door swings open. "Dammit," I mutter to myself, my solitude wrecked by another person needing to wash her clothes. But when I look up, my breath catches in my throat.

  "Julian."

  There he is, his eyes so dark and green even from across the small room. The way his jeans hug his thighs is unbearably hot, and his hair looks perfect for grabbing in my fists, for pulling him closer in for a kiss. My mind immediately goes right back to the last time I saw him, when he was on top of me, almost inside of me, and I instantly grow wet just looking at him.

  He shuts the door behind him and crosses the room in a few steps. I stand warily, unsure how to respond to him. I missed him, that much I know, and just the sight of him is making me weak. But he ignored my texts the whole extended weekend, and I'm not sure how Vanessa feels, and everything is so confusing.

  Julian doesn't say anything, though. He backs me up against the washer, then bends and kisses me roughly, his tongue opening my mouth, showing me he has, in fact, been thinking about me. I savor the now familiar taste of mint, the hint of chocolate, and kiss him back eagerly. When he pulls back he looks down at me. "You look so cute in my sweatshirt."

  "I didn't mean to take it," I respond. "It was an accident. I was in a hurry . . . "

  "You're adorable." He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my neck for a second before he grasps the zipper pull of the sweatshirt and tugs it gently so that I move closer to him. "And so fucking irresistible," he growls against my neck.

  "Julian," I begin, but he cuts me off.

  "I missed you," he whispers, putting his arms around me and holding me tight to him. This is so different, so nice. Can I stay right here forever?

  "I missed you too."

  "I'm sorry I didn't text you back right away. I was dealing with Vanessa." He rolls his eyes when he says it, and a pang of anxiety passes through me. "And then I lost my phone. Just got a new one." He pulls a new iPhone out of his pocket.

  "Wow.”

  "Early Christmas present from my parents. By the time I got it, it was almost time to head back to campus. And I decided I’d rather talk to you in person."

  "Nice. But what did Vanessa say? Is she mad?"

  Julian sighs. "She's not happy. She didn't talk to me much the whole break. I mean, she was busy with her boyfriend, but I can tell she's pissed. But," he says, putting his arms around me again, "she'll come around."

  "No." I want to stay in his arms, want to feel his warm hard body against mine, but it's not right. "I can't, Julian. We have to make things right with Vanessa first. I can't just . . . "

  "I knew you'd say that."

  "I'm sorry."

  "No, you're right."

  "I'll talk to her, OK? Let me try." I don't exactly want to. In fact, I'm already starting to dread it more than a visit to the doctor. But I know it's something I have to do.

  "Fine. Be convincing," he says, reaching out to run his fingers idly over my breast, then moving his hand down and catching it in the waistband of my jeans, pulling me closer. "I've really missed you."

  "Me too," I whisper, circling his waist and spreading my hands open on his ass. He leans down for a kiss just as the door opens, and the cheerful voices of two girls stops abruptly as they see us.

  "Uh, excuse us? This is, like, a public laundry room?" says one, glancing at me with a frown, then at Julian with a huge smile.

  "Sorry," I mutter, while Julian grins broadly at them.

  "It's all yours," he says to them, gesturing at the second washer.

  "Here." I quickly peel off his sweatshirt and toss it at him.

  "Looks better on you," he says, but he slings it over his shoulder anyway as he leaves the room. I stare after him, ignoring the girls' curious looks, then pretend to read the magazine even though concentration is completely impossible.

  Chapter Nine

  I text Vanessa asking if I can come over that afternoon, and her reply is simple: Fine. It is, at least, better than an outright refusal, though it doesn't inspire much confidence about our meeting either. I leave Greer with her clean laundry and two friends, all talking about Danny, and head out into the cold for the short walk to Julian and Vanessa's house. I want to go to Sal's, wish Vanessa and I could enjoy some pie rather than have what will undoubtedly be an ugly conversation,
but that's only wishful thinking. I take a deep breath as I knock on the front door of the purple house.

  Vanessa opens it, then turns and heads straight to the couch, where she plops down heavily. I close the door behind me, then nervously sit on a chair facing her. She's wearing silky rainbow bell-bottom pants with a bright yellow sweater, which make her eyes look even greener than normal. Her long brown hair is pulled up and into a sloppy bun, one of those messy sexy ones that look easy but are impossible to pull off. For me, at least. Even without makeup, Vanessa's so pretty, but I miss her eyes being kind; instead she looks wary.

  "Hey, Vanessa," I say.

  "Hi, Lia." She doesn't sound mad, or at least not entirely, but she's not smiling, and her usual warmth is missing.

  "Did you have a good Thanksgiving?" I know small talk isn't what she wants, but I can't help it; asking about her vacation is easier than starting in on the real conversation we need to have.

  She shrugs, then a smile involuntarily crosses her face. "I spent a lot of time with Evan."

  "I'm glad, Vanessa. I heard you and Julian didn't talk much, though."

  "You've already seen him? You guys don't waste time, do you?" The smile of seconds before is gone, replaced by a sarcastic frown. Shoot.

  "We . . . no . . . he just stopped by while I was doing laundry. We only talked for maybe five minutes."

  Vanessa raises an eyebrow at me but says nothing. I know she's waiting for me to talk, but I'm not sure how to begin.

  "Vanessa," I begin, "I am so sorry."

  "For what? For sleeping with my brother or for lying about it?"

  "I don't know. Lying, mostly."

  "But you aren't sorry about fucking him?" The word fuck from her mouth in this context is so harsh that I literally cringe.

  "I didn't, um, sleep with him."

  "It looked like you were pretty close."

  "We were. But we didn't. I haven't. Ever."

  "I know," she says, her face softening. "Lia, that's what I'm mad about mostly."

  "That I'm a virgin?" Why is everyone else more concerned with my virginity than I am?

  "No. Or not exactly. Look, my brother is an asshole when it comes to girls. I mean, I love him because I'm his sister. And he’s an amazing person in so many ways. But he has never, not once, treated a woman the way she should be treated. I mean it when I say that he's hurt almost every single girl he's ever touched."