If This Was a Movie (Evergreen Park #2)

Chapter 31 – Jules

THIRTY-ONE

JULES

I’m panting as Nate slides his fingers out of me, my body still gently pulsing with pleasure, but my breath catches when I watch him lift those fingers, slide them into his mouth, and lick them clean.

His eyes are locked on mine to gauge my reaction, and his lips tip up when he gets the one he was clearly hoping for.

My eyes move down to his jeans, a thick outline there that I really want to see. And touch. And taste.

“Now…” I start, eyes drifting from his eyes down, implying it’s now his turn.

But then, because my phone is a cockblocking bitch, the alarm goes off, reminding me Ava and Harper will be at the community center in an hour to help set up for the cast and crew holiday party.

He smiles and shakes his head.

“As much as I’d like that—and trust me, Jules, I would really fucking like that; the first time I come with you since last having you is going to be in your pussy, in my bed.”

My breath hitches, my mouth dropping with his words.

He smiles wider.

“Now. Do you need anything while we’re here?” I shake my head, still a bit speechless, and he smiles. “Perfect. Go clean up in the bathroom, and then I’ll take you to the center.”

I nod and do as he asks, moving to the small bathroom off the side of the kitchen while I hear him wash his hands in the kitchen, moving things around.

“You know, I bet this place would rent well,” he says as I wash my hands.

“What?”

“Or you could turn it into a few more studios. Or a lounge for the dancers or your teachers.”

I’m drying my hands as I step out, brows furrowed in confusion, giving him a small smile.

“That’s great and all, but where would I live?” I ask with a laugh.

“Well, you’d move in with us,” he says like it’s the obvious answer, and my entire body stills, whatever happy endorphins are left from my orgasm flying out the window instantly.

“Move in?”

“Not right now, of course,” he says casually, but my panic is so all-consuming I barely register his words. “But someday, this place will be empty. You could easily rent it out to cover your mortgage. Or expand, add another studio, or make this your office.” He looks around like he can already envision it.

I stay silent, my pulse pounding at the reality of where we are, of where he thinks we are. Eventually, he looks at me, his eyes going wide, stepping closer, clearly seeing my nerves.

“Oh, Jules, I don’t mean now. I just mean eventually. When you’re ready. When we’re ready.” He steps closer, but I step back, trying to move away from him. My heart is pounding as I realize what he’s suggesting.

“Eventually,” I say, my voice low, cold panic creeping in my veins. Eventually isn’t a maybe; it’s a certainty. He thinks that, at the end of the day, that’s where this is heading. He’s talking about a future between him and me. One where I’m moving in with him and his daughter.

“That’s…that’s where this is heading, Jules. Right?” he asks, stepping forward, and I step back once more.

The panic continues to build.

How did we get here?

One minute I was safe, building First Position and cheering my friends on and avoiding even the faintest whisper of dating, keeping myself safe in my little fantasy world, and then Nate is here and talking about eventually .

How did this happen? How did we go from safe and strictly platonic to him fingering me on my kitchen counter and talking about moving in together?

This is too much.

This is too fast.

“This is moving too fast,” I say, feeling like I’m floating, checking out.

“What is this, Jules?” he asks quietly, a hint of defeat in the words that make me want to say, just kidding !

But I can’t. As much as I want to, I can’t. I need to let common sense win. I’ve been letting my emotions win too often these past weeks, and that’s exactly how I got hurt last time.

Building this with Nate, or even thinking about building anything with Nate, is far too dangerous for me. The last time I let myself fall into romantic daydreams, I couldn’t get out of bed for a month except to go to work.

The last time I lost Nate, I built a wall around myself and swore off romance. What happens if I lose him again?

“This is you helping me out with my place and giving me a place to stay. It’s me watching Sophie in return and helping with her Christmas wish because she deserves that little bit of magic.” I explain our original agreement.

“Jules, come here,” he says, an arm out to me. I shake my head. “Jules, baby. Please. Come here.”

“No! No. No touching,” I say, stepping back, and Nate fights a small smile.

“No touching?”

“No! Because every time you touch me, my brain goes scrambled, and I lose all common sense.”

“Your brain goes scrambled when I touch you?” he asks, the smile winning and humor in his words. He thinks I’m joking, that I’m being silly and flirty, but I mean it. When Nate isn’t holding me, when I’m not under his spell, I can think straight. I can see a future where if I let myself fall completely, I could get hurt. When he holds me, all of that goes out the window, leaving me lost in just how good being his feels.

“Yes! Every time you touch me, my snaps fail, and I make dumb decisions. Dumb, unsafe decisions. And if you touch me right now, you’re going to convince me it’s all okay and everything will be just fine, but we can’t do this.”

The humor in the atmosphere around him fades quickly, and he looks at me differently now.

“I thought you just said it was moving too fast. Now we can’t do this at all?” I cross my arms on my chest and avoid looking at him, but he steps closer, bending a bit to force me to look at him. “Why are you so dead set on keeping your wall up, Jules? You’re safe. You’re safe with me.”

He says it with so much conviction, so much softness and kindness, and I know he thinks that, but I also know the truth. Real life isn’t like the movies. It’s scarier, and a safe happily ever after isn’t promised. It’s safer to keep my heart protected at all costs.

His hand reaches out, the now familiar calloused hand tipping my chin up to look at him, and then, finally, I break.

“Because I could barely leave my bed for a week last time, and we barely spent a weekend together, Nate. What happens next time if this falls apart?” The words come out louder than I intended, and I pause, breathing heavily and taking in his shocked face before continuing. “I saw what losing my dad did to my mom, how it changed her as a person, and I don’t want that to happen to me. I’m not the same as I was a year ago. I’m not an idiot, believing in signs and messages when there’s nothing there. I stay rooted in reality, where I can’t get hurt that way again.

“This? This is great, Nate. You’re great, and one day, you’re going to make someone so fucking happy. You deserve someone who can trust in everything you can give her and not be looking over her shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Because with me? It always fucking drops. And I’m tired of picking up the pieces when it does.”

“Okay,” he says, low and easy before he stares at me, his hand still on my chin, reading every flash of emotion and thought and shift of my eyes.

I worry I went too far, exposed too much, and for a split second, I regret my words, even if I believe it to be all true and for the best.

“Okay?” I ask, my stomach dropping, and he nods.

“Okay.”

“What? Okay, what?”

“Okay. I see it. You’re terrified, and this is moving too fast.”

My mouth drops open, and I gape at him.

“I don’t—” I start, but he shakes his head and smiles.

The man is smiling. Why is he like this??

“We’ll slow this down. We’ll do this your way.” With that, he moves, walking closer to me before his hand moves to my jaw, barely a graze, but I feel it all the same. “But know, I know it’s a lie,” he whispers, empathy and guilt clear as day in his eyes.

“What?”

“That’s a lie. It’s all a lie you’re telling yourself to try and protect yourself. You know this is right, the same way I do. You know that if you just trust that what we have is special and real, you won’t get hurt. But the trusting part? That’s what you can’t get past. Your fear is stopping you from just jumping in .”

I can’t handle that, the small bit of proof that he sees so much more than I want him to, so I look away from him. He doesn’t let me for long, though, instead once more moving to my chin, grabbing it firmer this time and forcing me to look at him.

“But I’ll be here, Jules, when you’re ready. Waiting for you. And when you’re ready to jump, I’ll catch you.” After a long moment, he steps back from me. “Now, are you ready to go?”

My brow furrows. “What?”

“You have your party. I’m driving you to the center.” I shake my head, the idea of being stuck in the car with him after all of this horrifying.

“You don’t have to drive me, Nate. I can walk; it’s only a few blocks.”

He smiles at me softly, grabbing his work bag off the floor.

“I know. But I want to.”

“Nate—”

“Just humor me, Jules.”

He stares at me until I sigh and nod, grabbing my bag and sliding my jacket back on before we head out the door in near silence.

When we get to the community center, I fiddle with my keys as he parks, then walks around to the passenger side to pull me out. Once I’m out, he leans into me, pressing his lips to mine gently, and I revel in it. I’m already craving more when he breaks the chaste kiss, and that’s when I know I’m so fucking screwed.

“I’ll call you tonight. We can talk,” he says, and I shake my head.

“I can’t, I won’t be home until late.” It’s not a lie per se, but saying it aloud after whatever just happened in my place feels like one.

But I need space. I need time. I need to think.

He must know that because he nods before speaking. “Then we’ll talk in the morning when you come over for coffee.”

I smile weakly and nod. He presses his lips to mine once more before walking me to the front entrance of the community center.

“Later, Jules,” he whispers.

“Later, Nate. Thanks for…today.”

“Anytime, dollface.”

He pulls me into his arms, and I take a deep inhale of Nate's woodsy scent as he presses a kiss to the top of my head before stepping back. And then I watch him walk off, start the car, and wave as he drives away.