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

• Chapter Fifteen •

        The smell of bacon awoke Julian before the beating of his brain. Then came the thoughts—the berating thoughts of himself for last night's mishap.

        He hoped it had all been a misunderstanding; however, he remembered that look on her face when she pulled away—the confusing awe in her eyes as she pushed her hand into his neck to get him away.

She had stared back at him for a moment as Julian watched the wheels in her head begin to turn.

It looked like Erin wanted him to do it again—that she had only pushed him away to process what he had done.

He had given her a moment, and even saw a flicker of want cross her face. He had started to do it again, but before he could even inch forward, Erin was shaking her head, slipping past his arm—careful not to touch him—walking right out of his bedroom without a single word.

        Even though Jules had been drunk—shitfaced—it didn't soften the impact of the embarrassment that came crashing the moment she walked out on him.

He had stupidly assumed she wanted him—that she had felt the same. Julian had so wrongly believed that Erin came knocking on his door for company. Jules didn't honestly think she had come knocking to get him to stop playing so loudly; he thought it was just an excuse.

He thought they cleared the air—he apologized for being an asshole. He made it clear to Erin that his behavior was only a reflection of the animosity he felt toward Albert.

It took nearly a month for Jules to even recognize that his disdain for Erin wasn't even about her. He stressed that he disliked her moving his shit around and picking up his plates and putting his opened drinks back in the fridge—but truthfully, Julian was being pedantic.

He honestly liked coming home to a clean apartment; not having to worry about whose turn it was to wash a dish—or scraping up change for the laundry mat once a month. It was nice having food there—something consumable that wasn't beer—having something to eat when he had one too many beers.

Julian's complaints had never been about Erin—deep down, it was about Al.

        Now, Julian had to face her. He had gotten good at avoiding her, but that was when he despised her. He no longer had the upper-hand; he no longer had the same reasons to be an asshole; he only had shame—which meant regression—he would have to go back to avoiding her again.

        Julian rolled out of bed, heading straight for the shower. It wasn't because of a dire need to bathe, it was to avoid Erin.

He had already prepared himself for the mockery that was to come from his friends, dreading it most coming from Albert—he would never let him live it down.

        Jules was sure Erin had already told Al about what happened. He could hear them in the other room over the water, laughing and talking with excitement.
        ...Already making fun of him.

Julian ran a hand through his wet hair, carrying his dirty clothes with him under his arm. His eyes trailed from the floor to a familiar pair of pretty legs walking toward him—quickly looking back to the floor to avoid her gaze.

She was speaking over her shoulder, not paying any mind to where she was walking when suddenly bumping into Julian's elbow.

        "Sorry," Erin apologized quickly, coming to an immediate stop. "Al was telling me about the gig tonight—he won't shut up about it!" She yelled back over her shoulder, stepping past Julian as she moved down the hall. 

Before Julian could express she had nothing to apologize for, she was already out of sight—back in Al's room with the door closed.

Julian came through the living room, dropping his dirty laundry onto the chair by the door before making his way to the kitchen, prepared for Albert's deriding comments.