The Allure of Julian Lefray (The Allure #1)(48)

“It’s to prevent the inevitable demise of our friendship,” I said. “And to ensure that I still have a job in a few weeks when you’re bored of hooking up with me.”

“And why would that happen?”

I paused and stared over at him to see if he was being serious.

He looked hopeful and innocent, with his light eyes trained on me as if he actually expected me to believe he was looking for something serious. He hadn’t once asked me out on a proper date. He’d never even hinted at it. We were friends who pushed the limits when it was convenient. Nothing more.

I groaned. “The odds are not in our favor. This is a straight up Hunger Games situation. I need to keep my job with you and I’d prefer to keep our relationship somewhat platonic.”

His brow quirked. “Don’t you think that ship has sailed?”

I shook my head. It couldn’t have sailed. If it’d already sailed then that meant I was already screwed.

“Nope. That ship is going back to the marina. To a nice, safe spot.”

He frowned.

“Honestly, what do you think my mom and dad will say when I explain to them that I’m banging my boss in New York? I was supposed to move up here and start a life for myself, not shack up with the first guy who befriended me.”

To drive the point home, I reached to pull my hoodie down so it overlapped with my pajama pants.

“You and I are friends, Julian. Friends who don’t kiss anymore.”

Even as I spoke, I scanned his face, trying to decipher his reaction to my rules. His dimples were hidden away behind a confused scowl. His lips were slightly pouted, just enough that I got hung up on them for a moment before meeting his eye.

For a few minutes neither of us said a word. I waited on tenterhooks, trying to prepare for his reaction, and then he nodded once and leaned forward. He clasped his hands between his legs and rested his elbows on his knees.

“Fine. Do friends go to dinner?” he asked with a curious tone.

“What? We just ate.”

I pointed to the open box of pizza on the ground. Our half-eaten slices lay splayed out on the floor, probably soaking grease stains into my rug. Classy.

“I’m talking about sometime next week. Dean and I are going out on Wednesday and you could tag along with us. As a friend.”

Oh. Dinner with the guys. Right, maybe I could do that. Maybe it would be good to be around Julian when we had a third person present, someone to act as a sexual-tension buffer. Although, was Dean really the person for the job? Maybe we needed a buffer who looked a little less like Ryan Gosling.

And then I remembered my new job and my heart sank. If everything went as planned, I’d be working next Wednesday night. There’d be no time for dinner, with or without Julian.

“I don’t think I can,” I answered.

“Why not?” he asked, piercing me with a hard stare.

Why not?

Why not?

I hadn’t expected him to ask that and I hadn’t decided whether or not I was prepared to tell him that I’d had to get a second job, especially when I had no clue what that second job actually entailed. The friend Beth had called helped coordinate the shows for New York Fashion Week; I figured that was a good sign, but I was trying hard not to get my hopes up. For the time being, I was employing the “less is more” approach, at least until I knew what the hell I’d be doing.

“Prior commitment,” I said, averting my eyes toward the pizza box once again.

I could see him frown out of the corner of my eye and I wanted so badly to throw away the rules and finish what we’d started. I knew he’d easily be the best lay of my life—he’d already won the best kiss category by a landslide. I knew Julian had the ability to obliterate every guy that had come before him. All the quick, cheesy sex I’d had in college, the bad kisses, the lackluster dates—they wouldn’t compare to one night with him.

I studied him as he gathered his things. He pulled his tuxedo jacket back on without a word, shoved the pizza slices back into the box then crumbled it in his hand. He looked so devastatingly handsome, and yet, so defeated. His dimples were tucked away behind a reserved frown. His eyes were downcast, trained on the ground near his feet. He rubbed his jawline as he walked to the door and I followed after him.

He stepped into the hallway, turned over his shoulder, and met my eye. I thought my heart was going to leap out of my chest, rip right out from inside of me.

“I’ll see you at work,” he said, offering me a small smile before turning down the hallway.

My mouth opened, but there was nothing I could say to make it better. My words were jumbled in my mind, lost somewhere between “I want you, please stay” and “I’m sorry, you have to go”.





Chapter Twenty-Seven


Josephine





I’ll be honest, I’d assumed the job Beth had secured for me would involve being a high class call girl…or at the very least a low class call girl, based on the stinginess she displayed with my dresses.

Luckily for me, the job ended up being much, much cooler than expected, and bonus: I got to wear normal non-stripper clothes. Albeit, a pair of black pants and a t-shirt wasn’t high couture, but for two weeks, I’d get to be behind the scenes of New York Fashion Week. I’d get to be up close and personal with all the top models, designers, and bloggers.