chapter 2: julian
i didn’t want to come.
i said yes before i really thought about it, which is how i end up in most places i don’t care to be. my wife mentioned the event in passing. something about visibility, branding, showing up, being seen. and i nodded like it mattered to me in the same way it mattered to her.
it doesn’t.
still, i’m here.
because i’m a good husband.
the room is exactly what i expected—carefully arranged to feel effortless. much like my own home. this gallery is filled with people who understand how to move through spaces like this with intention. with a motive, really. i recognize the choreography immediately. where to stand. when to laugh. how long to hold a conversation before transitioning to the next.
i used to be better at it. i used to care about being amongst the crowd.
now, i prefer distance.
i take a sip of my bourbon and position myself just outside the circles of conversation, where i can observe without being pulled in. my wife is fully engaged in some conversation with a couple i know i should know…beth and frank? she throws her head back in laughter and rocks with each giggle so her silk press is effortlessly flowing from side to side. but we both know nothing about that laugh is effortless.
i roll my eyes and sink into my corner. this isn’t avoidance, not exactly. avoidance would have been me staying my ass in the house and catching the game like i wanted to in the first place. no. this is a kind of quiet resistance. a refusal to participate more than necessary.
i’m deciding how long i need to stay before i can leave without it becoming a conversation when i feel it.
it’s subtle. easy to miss.
the sense of being watched.
i turn, not expecting much. just another passing glance, something incidental.
instead, i find her.
her beauty is undeniable. her natural hair is styled in one of those short cuts only women with certain bone structure can pull off. her perky tits are staring at me over the bust line of that yellow dress that should be a sin to wear.
she’s standing across the room, still in a way that immediately separates her from everything around her. her posture is composed, her expression unreadable, but her attention—
it’s on me.
and she isn’t pretending otherwise.
i pause.
there’s something disarming about that kind of directness. most people soften when they’re caught looking. they smile, glance away, reestablish the boundary so the moment can be dismissed.
she doesn’t.
she holds my gaze like she’s already decided it’s worth holding and the corners of her mouth pull up ever-so-slightly. that full mouth.
it should make me uncomfortable. but nah, it’s sexy as fuck if i’m being honest. i haven’t had a woman look at me with such conviction in…shit. i don’t think this has ever happened to me.
instead, i feel something else. i mean, yeah, my dick bricked up a little when she smirked, but it’s something sharper. curiosity, maybe. not about who she is, i want to know who she is sure, but more than that, i want to know why she’s looking at me like that. like she’s recognized something she hasn’t said out loud.
i hold her gaze.
i don’t know why.
there’s a question forming somewhere in the space between us and i find myself waiting to see if she’ll answer it. shit, i can’t even say i have an answer myself, but something is telling me we’ll cross that bridge if we get there.
she looks like she’s trying to figure me out and i figure, i should just go over and speak to her. after all, we did come here to network. just as i make up my mind to walk over to her, a waiter passes between us and breaks me out of my trance.
i exhale, slow, my gaze lingering for a second longer than it should before i look away.
i consider, briefly, going to her. closing the distance. turning whatever that was into something more defined, something i can understand. at least get her name.
i don’t move.
i’ve lived long enough to recognize the beginning of something that doesn’t end cleanly.
and i have no interest in complicating my life.
still, as the night continues, i find my attention drifting. not to the conversations around me. not to the people trying to pull me in. but back to where she stood.
to be continued …
