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

• Chapter Twenty-Five •

        Erin left sometime after Julian had fallen asleep. It wasn't difficult to bypass the sleeping drunk—he had carried on the party without her.

A strange sensation overwhelmed her insides when she looked at him; as he slept blissfully on the sofa—while she was sneaking out of the apartment.

The feeling was warm and heavy, but also dreadful and uninviting. Erin felt something for Julian, though she wasn't sure what that something was.

There was a look in his eyes as if he were hanging onto her every word; it was serious, and filled with judgement. Julian was actually listening to her—even when she wasn't speaking.

        Erin found his opinions to be unorthodox, but as he listed every single thing Michael had done wrong, Erin started to think that perhaps his opinions were quite conventional—perhaps she was an idiot.

Erin was beginning to see that Julian had some reasoning; he had an outside vantage point to the circus of her deranged romance.

Just when Erin had started to think Jules was onto something, Michael flipped the script. Expecting him to go off the rails, Michael had instead rationally responded to where she had been. Erin didn't just tell Michael where she had been, she also told him where she had been staying.

        When coming home to get ready for work, Julian was surprised to see Erin in his apartment. He hadn't caught what was said, but judging by the look on Erin's face, it wasn't good.

Albert was standing toe to toe with her—his hands on his hips as if waiting for an explanation. Erin's arms were folded over her chest, and although there was anger on her face, her eyes displayed immense guilt. 

        "Everything alright?" Julian asked; trying to seem indifferent to the situation as he dropped his keys onto the entry table.

"Tell him what you told me." Albert encouraged with spite—as if righteously taunting her to rally an audience around her stupidity.

       Erin's timid gaze shifted to Julian, then quickly back to Al. She didn't like the look Jules was giving her—that heavy, judgmental glare that settled in his eyes every time she spoke...
       ...and sometimes when she didn't.

"He knows." Erin admitted.

        Al dropped his hands from his hips. He looked over at Julian as his posture slackened.
        "Did he tell you how stupid you are? No—he probably wouldn't because he's too fucking enamored, but I'll say it—you're being stupid." Albert started out of the apartment, too angry to even glance Julian's way as he slammed the door behind him.

        The silence that followed was substantial; all Julian could hear was the echoing of the word 'enamored' Albert had so brazenly used.

Julian wanted to correct what was said; he wanted to explain that Al didn't know what the fuck he was talking about. He never spoke of Erin to Albert—he never asked questions about her, nor had he carried on conversations started about her.

He wasn't sure why Al had even came to that conclusion—Jules had in fact told Erin that she was an idiot.

         Erin sighed. "That didn't go accordingly." She gingerly placed her small hands on the sides of her face, taking in Albert's disappointment.

     "Thanks for throwing me under bus—really appreciate that." Julian forced a condescending smile.

"No problem." Erin flashed the same grin, making her way to Al's room to collect her things.

        To Julian's relief, (but also dismay) Erin didn't seem to catch Albert's admission that wasn't his to tell.

He followed her into the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed as he watched Erin fill her duffel bag with clothes.

        "You're leaving?" Jules asked.

"I'm moving back in with Michael. We talked and... I think it'll be better this way."

        "What about your car?" Julian asked. He didn't like that Erin wasn't looking at him—he needed her to look at him.

"What about it?"

        "Aren't you gonna need it?"

"I can't find the keys, I can't afford to get the damned thing fixed... no, I'm not gonna need it. The City can deal with it—it's junk anyway." Erin spoke flatly, continuing to pack up her things—still unable to even glance in his direction.

        Julian's hands began to tremble. He wasn't sure why his body decided to respond this way. He stood, suddenly realizing the same instability had also settled in his knees.

        "You think it's wise to let the City take away the only place you know you'll have to sleep... when he decides he's done with you again?" Jules spat.

With that little piece of spite, Erin's eyes finally moved to his—her eyes as wide as her mouth.

        Erin stood, stepping closer to him with her hands on her hips.
"Just stop—stop acting so empathetic to my situation—and stop finding ways to insult me at every turn-"

"I don't have to find shit, you set yourself up for it. I meant what I said, you're a fucking idiot. I mean for fuck's sake, Erin—have some self respect."

"It's kind of difficult to respect myself when no one else seems to respect me. I try so hard to please everyone, but it's never good enough. I get labeled a prude, an idiot-"

"You've never had to please Al, he's had nothin but good things to say about you. I respect you, so maybe you are a prude- an idiot... maybe you're just too ashamed to admit it."

        Erin scoffed. "You think that calling me pretty just to sleep with me is respectful? Or how about bringing back some strange girl—is that your way of rewarding me for my self respect?"

        Julian swallowed hard, trying to think of how to explain his past actions—he couldn't.

        "I didn't think you cared." Jules murmured, shifting his gaze to the floor between them.

"I don't." Erin mumbled back. "It doesn't matter anyway." She reached into the back pocket her jeans, tossing an unmarked envelope onto Albert's bed.

She grabbed the duffel bag, slinging it over her shoulder. A part of her expected Julian to help, but he didn't move—not this time. He remained still, his eyes glued to the floor.  

        Erin stormed past, quickly leaving the room. Once he heard the apartment door shut, Julian reached for the blank envelope.

Julian peaked inside; his chest suddenly felt heavy, his stomach sick. It was cash—$760 exactly—more than one month's rent for the time she had spent there.