• Tomorrow Will Be Different • {J.C} (P.1)

• Chapter Eight •

        The sight of Erin sitting on the couch had destroyed every hope Jules had for the rest of the day. His body deflated as he observed her—the bane of his existence.

        Sluggishly making his way to the kitchen for coffee, Jules ignored the irritating sound of Erin's pen scraping against her notebook from the other room.

He didn't like her there—he didn't like her in the living room. It was like she was emphasizing her presence—rubbing it in his face that she was there—in his apartment.

He preferred her in Al's room, so he could pretend the entity of Erin Larsen was nothing more than a fever dream or a drunken hallucination.

        He started back to his room with his coffee; puzzled as to why she hadn't spoken to him yet—a simple hey, or good morning. Jules avoided Erin at all costs, but when crossing paths occasionally, she would always greet him—but this time, she didn't.

        Julian stopped; he took a sip of coffee as he looked at Erin, waiting for her to acknowledge him—she didn't.

"Where's Al?" Jules asked her.

"He's not here, he had a meeting—I think with the owner of Arlene's." Erin answered without looking up.

        Julian started toward the couch, taking the seat on the opposite end—Erin still hadn't looked his way.

"What you still doing here?"

"I'm off today."

"Still doesn't answer my question." Julian murmured. His passive aggressive remark had been so low that if Erin hadn't been two feet away, she wouldn't have caught it.

        Erin closed her notebook, turning her body to face him completely.

"What's your problem with me?"
        Julian's eyes slowly shifted to Erin as a spiteful smirk tugged at his lips—wasn't it obvious?
        "I would apologize for being on your phone yesterday, but your problem with me has been going on well before then."

        Casually taking another sip from his mug, Julian wiped the corners of his mouth.

"I wasn't asked if you could stay here—Al let you move in here without talking to me first. This is about boundaries... respect—which I'm not getting... from either of you."

        Erin sighed; it wasn't like she wanted to be there—she hated living there just as much as Jules hated her being there.

There were always dirty clothes scattered throughout the apartment, the smell of cigarette smoke was so strong that it didn't matter how often she showered, the scent never left her hair.

They were messy—dirty—leaving out food and empty bottles and cans; their coffee table was basically a second trashcan.

No one bothered to lift a finger to wash a dish. She was shocked they had the capability to even wipe their own ass.

Erin tried her best—she picked up and made sure they had clean clothes and a stocked fridge. It was the least she could do for them—they had given her a place to stay.

        Erin stood from the couch, gathering her things. "Do you even know what those words mean?"

"What—boundaries?... respect?" Julian looked to Erin without a care in the world; his arm leisurely hanging from the back of the sofa, his ankles crossed, stretched out onto the table before him—the coffee table Erin had so kindly cleaned for him.

        "Yeah, do you even know what those words mean?"

"You want the Webster or the Oxford? They're basically the same." 

Erin scoffed, shaking her head. She almost wanted him to give an exact definition just to prove her point—her point being that not only was Julian an asshole, he was also ignorant.

        "I think I'll just live in my car." Erin muttered, making her way to Al's room to gather up her things.

"That's the best idea I've heard since you've been here."

"Something that points or shows a limit or an end—a dividing line. The quality or state of being esteemed... high and special regard." Erin spoke as she trailed out of the room, looking back at Julian just at the end of the hall, "Webster."

        Julian made his face deliberately impassive.
        ...Fucking smart-ass.