Anywhere With You • {J.C.}

||Forty-Five|Stranger||

Despite having had sex with Julian more times than she could remember, this time had been different. Harlow knew that she would remember this particular sexual encounter above all the rest.

It was a goodbye—a sad goodbye that Julian had used to deflect Harlow's intentions. He didn't want her to leave, and instead of saying that, he used sex as a way to keep her lingering around. Harlow knew this—because she too had used the same tactic when they were younger.

But they were no longer kids, they were adults now. They now had to suffer the repercussions of their actions—they were obligated to take blame in their faults—forced to take responsibility for what they had done. They weren't just two kids fooling around anymore, they were very much aware of what they were doing—what they had done.

The sun had yet to make an appearance when Harlow awoke. She tried dressing quietly to flee the unrelenting scene of Julian sprawled out onto the mattress. But before she had time to even search for her purse, Julian woke.

Her heart seemed to fall at the sight of him stirring—sitting up in bed with squinting eyes. He sighed heavily, rubbing his face in pain, clearly hungover.

"Hey... where you goin'?" Julian asked, slowly getting out of the bed. He gathered his clothes from the floor, occasionally glancing to Harlow, waiting for an explanation for her abrupt departure. He was groaning softly at every move he made while putting his underwear back on.

Julian stood from the edge of the bed, towering over Harlow as he snapped the elastic of his underwear at his hips. He was inching towards her to notice she was backing away. "Will you just look at me... what are you doin'- where you goin'?" Julian stood before her with her back against the wall—his arms folded over his bare chest.

She closed her eyes, releasing a sigh as she turned her head away from the hungover mess standing before her. "Home; I have to go home."

"Home? You mean, go back to your boyfriend?" Julian laughed snidely, letting his hands fall to his sides while inching even closer. She had nowhere to go now—Julian had her backed against the wall.

Harlow nodded, her breath hitching in her chest from inhaling a little too quickly. "You were just gonna leave me without saying goodbye... really? So you fuck me, and then go back home to your boyfriend... that really how it's gonna be?"

"What did you expect, Jules? This was supposed to be a goodbye, not a... open invitation to come inside my party whenever you feel like it."

"This is goodbye; like... for real, this is goodbye? We're not even gonna try to stay friends?"

"I can't be friends with you. I can't be friends because I'll always want more and to be honest... you're not good for me."

"Bullshit." Julian waved, making his way toward the door. He had flung his wrist down before trailing out of sight down the hall.

She should've searched for her purse and left, but Harlow couldn't do that. They seemed to have finally made amends, and seeing that that was her intention when coming over, she didn't want to backtrack into their old ways. She wanted a clean break—a clean cut without the harrowing effects. This was Harlow's chance to break the cycle.

She followed Julian into the kitchen, a little surprised to see he was cracking open another beer. He stood with a slouch, chugging the contents of the can with his back against the sink counter.

"You wanna know what's really bullshit? The fact that this was supposed to be us making amends and saying goodbye-"

"So you fuck me and then run back to your boyfriend. Yeah, I love making amends with you." Julian snapped back, taking another drink. He was drinking too fast—it was as if to wash the taste of his own words out of his mouth—or to numb the pain of what Harlow was saying.

"You're being ridiculous. This isn't like you. I-I-I don't even know you anymore. The Jules I know would let me walk outta here without a single word."

"You're right, so go. I'll see you in another two years." Julian scoffed with a slight shrug.

"You don't get it, do you? This is it, Jules... this is it. We're over, we're never doing this again."

"Why the fuck do you keep coming back to me then, huh? Why the fuck are you even here?"

Harlow's face fell, watching Julian chug the remainder of his beer before chucking it into the sink piled with dishes. He threw open the refrigerator door, getting yet another drink.

She started to explain, but realized that it was impossible. Julian only heard what he wanted to hear, and what Harlow was saying was something he didn't want to listen to. "I thought we could be adults about this and part ways without animosity. But clearly, I was wrong. So... have a nice life, I'm sorry I came over, I hope lying to me was worth it to get what you wanted."

Harlow started back toward the hall, catching a glimpse of her purse setting on the couch. She turned, making her way to the living room to retrieve her belongings. But Julian was right on her heels, not willing to give up so easily.

"Will you just stop for a second?... please. Jus- just stop, alright. You really didn't think I'd be pissed you tried to sneak outta here, really? I love you, Harlow... I always have. Forgive me for wanting a little more time with you before you ran back to your boyfriend."

"What do you want from me, Jules? What do you want?" Harlow turned—she threw the strap of her purse over her shoulder, looking up at Julian.

The worried lines in his forehead smoothed as his face fell, looking down at the beautifully conflicted young woman he'd known since high school. The truth was, Julian didn't know what he wanted. He had tried convincing himself that Harlow was all he wanted, but he couldn't be too sure. Perhaps nothing could make him happy—maybe he needed to fix himself.

He had to admit that his drinking had gotten out of hand, but it was the only way to ensure comfortable numbness. He'd much rather be blasted everyday and every night than to deal with the emotional turmoil conflicting with his every thought. It sure beat the hell out of the loneliness—the empty void of nothingness.

Julian thought that Harlow could fill that void, but she had already found another—he was too late. He needed stable ground—someone to keep a hold on him while he went away on yet another grueling tour he didn't want to be apart of. But Harlow was flat out refusing to be his anchor—she was forcing him to sink.

"I don't know what I want. I just know that when I'm with you... everything's a little bit better. All I know is that I'd rather be anywhere with you... I don't wanna be anywhere else, but with you." Julian admitted; he hated to admit it, but it was the truth.

"You're two years too late. Besides, you only want me right now... because you know that you can't have me- that I'm with someone else."

"No." Julian disagreed, folding his arms with pursed lips. "I don't want you right now... I need you right now."

"You didn't need me when I needed you. You didn't want me when I wanted you, so why is now any different? I don't even know who you are anymore-"

"Will you stop sayin' that shit? You know me- you know me better than anyone else."

"You're a drunk... This," Harlow sized him up with her eyes, "I don't know who this is." She squeezed the strap of her purse before taking a step closer to the tall mess standing before her. With her hand on his shoulder, Harlow raised to her tiptoes, planting a small kiss on his cheek. "Goodbye, Jules."