And then bolted like Jules was a live wire and he’d finally made contact.
They hadn’t gone back to the apartment since the painful day after. If Keaton hadn’t regretted offering up his spare room to start with, it was obvious he’d give just about anything to take back that kiss.
But Jules couldn’t bring themself to wish it had never happened, no matter how their heart ached now.
“Morning, sleeping beauty.”
Jules turned toward the voice, squinting at Ollie, who stood in the doorway holding two mugs. His curls were mussed and his glasses slightly askew, giving him the look of a disheveled professor who moonlighted as a barista—which, in a way, was accurate. Or it would be if he ever managed to finish his graduate studies.
“Black or oat milk?” he asked, wiggling both mugs.
“Oat, please. I’m not like you. I don’t drink coffee for the taste.”
“Heathen.” Ollie handed over the mug and dropped onto the armrest beside them. “Sam’s in the shower. She said you were talkative in your sleep last night, but don’t worry, she’s sworn to weaponize that information only if you ever ghost her.”
They loved the way their friends had rallied last night. Sam had swapped for an early-out, and the two of them played games with Jules, never pushing for details of what had happened. The evening had turned into a big slumber party, the very thing Jules had needed to forget about everything for a little while.
Jules groaned. “Please tell me I didn’t say anything incriminating.”
“Mostly just mumbled about mug handles and something that sounded suspiciously like ‘cedar-scented betrayal.’” Ollie raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”
Jules buried their face in the couch pillow. “I hate how well you know me.”
“That’s not a denial.”
“Because there’s nothing to deny,” Jules said, voice muffled. “Except that I may have made a huge mistake.”
Footsteps padded down the hall, and Sam emerged wearing one of Ollie’s oversized tees with a towel twisted around her curls. Jules envied the way she made herself at home wherever she was. “If this is about Keaton, I’m gonna need a refill before we dive in.”
Jules peeked up. “How did you?—”
“You’re on day three in that shirt and look like death warmed over.” Sam refilled her coffee mug and curled into the papasan.
Jules sat up, cradling the mug like it could shield them from the conversation. “He kissed me,” they said flatly.
Sam blinked. “He what?”
“He kissed me. The night the power went out, we were sitting there talking when the lights went out, and the next thing I knew, he was kissing me.” Jules stared into their coffee, like they were reading tea leaves. “And then he practically sprinted out of the room when the lights came back on. I haven’t seen him since.”
Ollie let out a low whistle. “Keaton Anderson kissed you. That’s…unexpected.”
“Right?” Jules threw up their hands. “I mean, I thought maybe something was there—he’s been so sweet lately, and he painted that entire room for me, and we’ve had these…moments. But then he acted like it never happened. Like I’m the ghost of an awkward hookup instead of his actual roommate.”
Sam perched on the edge of the coffee table, face softening. “Jules, he’s not the kind of guy who does anything lightly. If he kissed you, it meant something. He just might not know what to do with his feelings.”
Jules shook their head. “I’m not doing this. I’m not falling for someone who needs a PowerPoint to process his emotions.”
“Too late.” Sam coughed the words into her fist.
“You already are,” Ollie said at the same time. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be hiding out in my apartment like a wounded bunny.”
“I’m not hiding,” Jules protested weakly.
“You left your charger, your sketchpad, and your self-respect at home.” Ollie sipped his coffee. “I’ve seen less dramatic exits in soap operas.”
Jules groaned again and slumped forward, forehead meeting knees. “Why am I like this? I fall too fast, and I always end up the one bleeding out while the other person figures out if they even meant to pull the trigger.”
Sam reached out and squeezed Jules’s arm. “You have a huge heart, sweetie. I know you’ve had your fair share of frogs in the past, but this is different. Keaton’s not some random stranger. He’s…complicated, yeah. But he’s also kind.”
