I should have. It was part of our routine. Part of making sure he was settling in, eating properly, adjusting to life at Inferno.
But I couldn't face him. Not yet. Not when I could still feel his mouth on mine. Not when I was still fighting the urge to go back and finish what we'd started.
Instead I sat in my office and watched the monitors.
Julian was in his room. Sitting on the bed. Reading one of the thrillers from the bookshelf.
But he wasn't focused on it. Every few minutes he'd look up at the door. Like he was waiting for me to show up.
When I didn't, his shoulders sagged slightly. Disappointment visible even through the grainy security footage.
I watched him set aside the book. Watched him get ready for bed. Watched him lie down and stare at the ceiling instead of sleeping.
He was thinking about the kiss. About what I'd said. About why I'd run.
I should feel good about maintaining boundaries. About doing the right thing. About protecting someone vulnerable from getting hurt.
Instead I felt like a coward.
Julian had been brave enough to admit what he wanted. Brave enough to choose me despite all the reasons it was complicated.
And I'd kissed him then run away like the contact had burned me.
You're afraid of wanting something you think you shouldn't have.
He'd been right. I was afraid.
Afraid of losing control. Afraid of hurting him. Afraid of wanting someone I couldn't have without compromising every rule I'd built my life around.
Afraid of admitting that Julian Bianchi had gotten under my skin in ways no one had in years.
On the monitor, Julian finally closed his eyes. But I could tell he wasn't sleeping. Just lying there in the dark. Alone.
I'd put that loneliness there. By kissing him then walking away. By making him think I didn't want him when the truth was I wanted him too much.
My phone buzzed. Text from an unknown number.
I opened it warily. Then realized it was Julian, using the secure phone I'd given him.
I meant what I said. This isn't over. I'm not giving up on you just because you're scared. Sleep well, Elio.
I stared at the message for a long time.
Then I looked back at the monitors. Julian had rolled over. Curled up on his side facing away from the camera.
I should delete the message. Should maintain distance. Should stick to my resolution that this couldn't happen.
Instead I saved it.
And sat there watching Julian sleep while I tortured myself with the memory of his first kiss and the knowledge that he wanted more.
That I wanted more.
That I was absolutely, completely, irreversibly fucked.
Because Julian Bianchi wasn't giving up.
And I was running out of reasons to keep running.
