Chapter 41: Idiot
Julian froze so obviously that even he could feel it.
He might have been slow in a hundred other ways, but not in this one. He understood what Hannah was asking for. A second earlier, she had still looked like herself, bright and bold and a little overbearing even when she was tipsy. Then something in her expression shifted. Her eyes, still damp with drink, softened into ripples of light. The usual heat in her face gave way to something almost fragile, something so unexpectedly vulnerable it made her look even prettier than she already was.
The space between them narrowed by inches.
He felt her hands come up and cup his face, warm from sleep and alcohol. The words no caught at the back of his throat, but before he could force them out, Hannah leaned in and kissed him.
It was a light kiss. He could have pushed her away if he wanted to. He would not have needed much strength at all.
But it was also unbearably sweet.
Julian had never been kissed before, at least not in any way he could clearly remember, and the shock of it ran straight through him. Her lips were soft, careful, almost trembling. The kiss carried none of the recklessness he would have expected from Hannah. It felt warm and strangely delicate, like a small fire lit against winter cold, like stumbling onto something gentle in the middle of a storm.
A few seconds later she pulled back.
Her face bloomed into a smile, bright and satisfied and a little dazed. Then all at once the strength seemed to leave her body. She dropped backward onto the bed as if the kiss had taken more out of her than she wanted to admit.
"I'm gonna sleep for a bit. Pull the blanket up for me, okay? Thanks."
Julian sat there for half a breath before reaching for the blanket beside her. He drew it up to her shoulder with stiff, careful hands.
Hannah had already turned onto her side. Her cheeks were still flushed, and sleep was taking her fast. Even half buried in his blanket, with her lashes resting against her skin and that stubborn redness lingering across her face, she looked unfairly good.
A girl you were close to got drunk, kissed you, and fell asleep in your bed.
That kind of thing could probably shake any teenage boy to the core.
Unless he was already in love with someone else.
——
When Hannah woke up, she was much more sober.
The first thing she saw was Julian slumped beside the bed, asleep with one arm folded under his head. He had spent the night sitting on the cold floor and somehow still looked peaceful.
She had not been completely wasted earlier. She knew that much. The beer had only done two things. It had given her a ridiculous amount of courage and stripped away just enough caution to let her act on it.
Now that she was fully awake, regret arrived right on schedule.
Not because she thought kissing him had been wrong, but because she had to face him afterward.
For the first time in her life, Hannah Reeves, who never backed down from anything and rarely felt embarrassed for more than half a second, felt heat climbing her face from pure shyness. She tried three or four different explanations in her head and hated every single one of them. None sounded right. None sounded like her.
A few minutes later Julian stirred awake too. He blinked at her in confusion, still hazy from sleep.
The room went still.
For several seconds neither of them spoke. Hannah felt the awkwardness settle around them like something physical. She watched Julian part his lips, then stop, clearly unsure what he was even supposed to say.
That, somehow, helped.
Her panic eased. Her head cleared. If he was this lost, then she had the advantage again.
So she spoke first.
"I kissed you?"
Julian stared at her, then gave a slow nod. "Yeah."
She tilted her head slightly, studying him. "And why do you think I did that?"
He hesitated. "Because you were drunk and not thinking straight. Or…"
"Or I like you?"
She asked it plainly.
There was no teasing in her voice now, no playful grin to soften the blow. She was completely calm, more calm than she had been during the kiss itself. She had thought about this too long, wanted him too long, and swallowed too much already to hide behind jokes now. She was not like him. She did not want to feel everything and say nothing.
Real life was not some Oscar Wilde fairy tale. Margaret was not the kind of girl who would nobly reject him for his own good, and Hannah had no intention of turning herself into a tragic nightingale so someone else could have the rose.
Julian swallowed. "Is that how I'm supposed to take it?"
"Yes, genius. I like you, Julian Hayes." Her voice sharpened, but only because the truth had finally made it out. "And that kiss just now was my first one. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is liking an idiot like you? I've had a crush on you since freshman year. Three whole years, and somehow we still made almost no progress. Then you go and fall for someone else. Do you get how unfair that is?"
"…I'm sorry."
Hannah looked at him like she wanted to bite him.
"Why are you apologizing?" she asked. "You're allowed to like whoever you want. I'm just pissed off, so I'm making a scene."
She paused, then reached out with both hands and grabbed his face, squeezing his cheeks in open frustration.
"Seriously, though, it's enough to drive me insane. I was the one who got close to you first. I was here first. Then you go and like someone else anyway. What exactly is wrong with me, huh? Was I not good enough for you, Mr. Hayes?"
Julian was too stunned to answer right away.
Hannah's face was beautiful even when she was angry. Maybe especially then. Her brows were knit, her mouth tight with grievance, her eyes bright with irritation, but there was no real hatred in it. She looked offended, wounded, and almost comically indignant, like someone furious at losing a race she had been sure she would win.
Julian had always thought of Hannah as a very good friend. Being around her was easy. Comfortable. Lively in a way his life usually was not. He liked her. He enjoyed her company. He had never been able to think otherwise.
But he had never crossed the line into love.
And more than that, he had never let himself imagine there was much point.
Sooner or later they would graduate. Everyone would scatter. Different schools, different cities, different lives. High school would end, and whatever felt urgent now would probably break apart on its own.
"I…" He lowered his eyes. "I'm not good enough."
Hannah let go of his face at once. "Oh, please. And you're good enough for Margaret?"
Julian fell quiet for a long moment.
"…Margaret's different."
The words came out slowly, as if he had to pull them through something heavy. He kept staring at the floor while he spoke. "Honestly, it wouldn't really matter who I liked. After graduation there's a good chance we all end up going to different schools anyway."
"Not definitely."
"Still…"
"And I don't care if it's long-distance," Hannah shot back. "You think that scares me?"
Julian looked up at her then, genuinely confused, like he still could not understand how any of this had happened. "Do you really like me that much?"
She laughed once, but there was no amusement in it. "What do you think? I'm the idiot here too. I liked your dumb ass for three years."
After she said it, her voice lost some of its force.
She bit lightly at her lower lip and looked down. Her lashes lowered, casting a faint shadow across her face. The edge in her tone dulled into something heavier, and for a second she stopped sounding like herself. Or maybe this was also herself, just the part she never let anyone see.
Hannah had never shown anyone this version before, not like this. Not openly. Not with her pride lowered and her hurt visible.
But she let Julian see it.
"All right," she said softly. "I know you like Margaret. You don't have to say no out loud."
Julian's mouth tightened.
Hannah kept going, her voice quieter now. "I act strong all the time, but I still get hurt. I still feel awful. I still want to cry sometimes." She drew in a shallow breath. "When I kissed you just now, if you'd pushed me away… I really might have cried."
Julian looked at her helplessly.
"Can I hug you?" she asked. "I don't want you looking at my face right now."
He knew, at least in theory, that if you did not like someone back, the kind thing was to reject them clearly. You were not supposed to leave room for hope. Not supposed to let people keep waiting for something that would never happen.
But Julian had never been good at cruelty, even when cruelty would have been cleaner.
He was too lonely for that.
Every friend felt precious to him. Every bit of warmth did. And Hannah was not just a friend. She was beautiful, vivid, hard to ignore, and standing in front of him with her heart wide open in a way he had never learned how to handle.
"…Okay," he said.
That was all Hannah needed.
She threw herself forward and wrapped both arms around his neck. Her chin came down against his shoulder, and she held him tightly enough that he could feel the insistence of it, the way she refused to leave even an inch between them. Her body was warm, soft through the layers of clothing, and the scent of her shampoo lingered close enough to make his thoughts blur for a second.
"I'm not giving up," she murmured beside his ear. "Not until you and Margaret are actually together."
Julian did not answer.
Hannah's grip tightened a little more.
"And anyway, didn't you just say people are going to separate eventually? If that's true, then at least let what we have right now be something good. Okay?" Her voice thinned into something almost shy, which somehow made it hit harder. "You're the first guy I ever liked."
The words lodged in him more deeply than he wanted them to.
Because he understood that feeling.
Too well.
It was the same weakness he carried in silence, the same willingness to sink into something beautiful just because it existed in front of him now, even if it would hurt more later for having been real. They were both trying to hold onto a dream while it was still close enough to touch, even knowing distance might make a ruin of it in the end.
Julian let out a breath and gave in, because he had already been giving in for a while.
"All right, all right. Since when could I say no to the boss?"
Hannah laughed against his shoulder, the sound bright and clear, like wind chimes in summer. "Idiot."
Then she leaned back just enough to look at him. "Was that your first kiss too?"
Julian thought about it. "Probably."
"Probably?" Hannah repeated. "Who doesn't remember their own first kiss?"
He looked embarrassed. "There was this girl next door when I was little. She used to take care of me a lot. I don't remember if something like that ever happened back then."
"Oh, wow." Hannah clicked her tongue. "Lucky you. You even had a girl next door." Then she waved it off on her own. "Whatever. Childhood doesn't count. Which means your first kiss is mine."
Julian did not argue.
That only encouraged her.
A sly look crept back into Hannah's eyes, some of her old mischief surfacing again now that the worst part was over. "You weren't really planning to save it for Margaret, were you?"
Julian's ears turned faintly red. "If I like her, then of course I'd want to…"
Hannah narrowed her eyes. "Are you mad?"
At that, she let go of him fully and leaned back, watching his expression with open curiosity, as if she were testing him.
Julian shook his head. "No. I'm not going to get upset at you over that."
The corners of Hannah's mouth twitched. "No, you're not upset because that kiss was soft and sweet and basically perfect."
Julian raised a hand and touched his lips without thinking.
Hannah caught the movement immediately.
Her grin widened. "So? Want another one?"
He dropped his hand at once and shook his head a second time. "No… that's okay."
The refusal was quiet, but it was still a refusal.
Hannah stared at him for one long beat, then grit her teeth hard enough that Julian could almost hear it.
"Cover your ears."
He blinked. "What? Why?"
"I need to say something nasty, and I don't want you hearing it. It'll ruin my image."
Julian actually looked amused for once. "You've cursed in front of me at the diner before. And honestly, boss, I've never exactly thought of you as a lady."
That only made her more offended.
Without another word Hannah slapped both hands over his ears. Her palms pressed tight enough that the room turned muffled, but not completely. He could still hear her, just barely, the words slipping through in fragments.
"You talk too much," she muttered. "Would it kill you to say one nice thing about me for once?"
Then, lower and rougher and far more wounded than she probably meant to sound, she said, "Julian, you idiot. Why the hell do you like Margaret so much? I've been in love with you for so long."