That was my mind for you. Constantly fighting between craving the unique and clinging to what felt safe.
The rooftop was my kind of perfect. The night sky stretched out above us instead of that claustrophobic dining room. No loud conversations and no stiff shoes. Indeed, perfect. And now that I was feeling more at ease, my curiosity was bubbling up again. Once I started with questions, I couldn’t stop myself. I was feeling bold, maybe even a bit reckless.
“So, why did you never marry? You are like… old.” I teased, raising an eyebrow at him. Maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but Chris was nearly a decade older than me and an A-lister. People expected him to be at least in his first marriage by now.
“Ahn…” He looked like he was scrambling for a more diplomatic answer, but I wasn’t going to give him a chance to do the PR-trained speech.
“Mom issues?” I asked while balancing on a piece of pipping on the floor, tiptoeing across it like I was auditioning for Cirque du Soleil. I couldn’t keep still if I tried, especially in such a nerve-wracking situation as this one.
The malfunctioning filter in my brain had already said bye-bye, so I was going at it. It was, honestly, the best way to figure out if someone could handle me. Not the socially acceptable, small dosesversion, but the fully unhinged Jules.
“If I had to bet, I’d say dad issues. Guys with mom issues are usually the clingy, possessive types.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. It was so hot that he wasn’t running for the hills.
“Who says I’m not possessive and clingy?” He was playing along. Dangerous territory, Chris Jones.
I hopped down and stepped closer to him, giving my most mischievous look.
“Are you?”
Our eyes locked, and neither of us said anything. We didn’t have to. The playful tension was slowly shifting to something else. An energy that my whole body recognized from earlier today when it went rogue and straight into his arms.
I tried to keep it together, but every passing second felt like a dare. I was pretty sure I couldn’t last two more without giving in and jumping on him. As I felt myself leaning in, he broke the silence.
“I’m pretty sure that’s a conversation for the third or fourth date.”
Get it together, Jules.
I steadied my breathing, hoping I wasn’t giving away how ridiculously horny I actually was. It had been a while, and being alone with this man wasnothelping. I laughed, shaking my head like I could physically shake the tension away.
“What do people even talk about on first dates, anyway?” Small talk had never been my thing. Clearly.
He shrugged casually.
“I don’t talk much on first dates.”
Oh. I caught the implication loud and clear. Obviously, women didn’t stand a chance of resisting him for long. And honestly? No judgment. If it weren’t for my loud brain, my big mouth, and the insane way we met, I probably wouldn’t have lasted this long either.
But here’s the thing: if he was more of an “action guy” than a “let’s chat over dinner” type, why was he talking so much on this first date? He could’ve made a move not two seconds ago because, let’s be real, I wouldn’t have the strength to stop him. I wasgoneon those ocean eyes. Totally hypnotized. But he didn’t.
I guess I was easier to resist than the parade of runway models and actresses he slept with before.
Don’t even go there, girl.
“Try. It’s your turn… ask me a question.” I said, choosing to ignore the comment, determined to see if he’d actually give me something real this time.
He hesitated for a beat before going with something safe.
“Okay, okay… so you have a kid, right?”
“I have two. Liam and?—”
“Nova.” Her name rolled off his tongue.
My heart skipped.
“Yes…” I said slowly.
