The Truth About Unspeakable Things by Emily Myers (people reading books txt) 📗

without asking you first. It’s just . . . when I woke up and saw you on the couch, I—I thought it would be wise to get to know the man sleeping next to me,” I tell him with a shrug.

Julian grins and pulls his knees into his chest. “Look, it was no big deal. Honestly. I was just . . . surprised, I guess, that you took the initiative to research my family. But, like I said in my text, I shouldn’t have been. You’re great at what you do. Of course, you did your due diligence,” he says. “Though, I must admit, Mason wasn’t thrilled with the idea of me loving my new home,” he tells me. “I believe you called me New Orleans’s adopted son,” Julian recalls. I blush.

“Yeah, um, I did,” I admit, slouching into the cushions of the couch. “But, in all fairness, I was slightly hungover when I did my due diligence and tweaked the article,” I say.

“Tell that to Mason,” Julian says, moving his eyes from me to the record player. The record has ended. Static fills the space between us, only adding emphasis to the words not spoken in regard to his brother.

“Well, I mean, is he really mad?” I ask, sitting up straight. “You would think he’d be happy to know you’re adjusting so well.”

“Yeah, you would think that,” Julian says, standing. “But um, Mason and I weren’t exactly on the best of terms when I left LA, nor did he approve of me volunteering for the transfer.”

“Why?” I ask.

Julian hesitates to answer as he moves across the room to the record player. It’s not like him to hold back. Perhaps I am crossing a line I shouldn’t.

“He um . . . well, when I volunteered to come to New Orleans on behalf of Cole Creative, he didn’t react well to the idea. Ever since we lost our parents, we’ve been sort of inseparable, sometimes to our own detriment,” Julian admits. “Sometimes I can’t tell if he’s so overbearing because he needs me or feels like I need him. Regardless, we had a falling out and . . . my leaving has only made it worse.”

I see in him now the same sadness I first recognized in him the day we met. He shuffles through his record collection in search for our next tune. If I had to guess, I’d say he knows his albums backwards and forwards. He need not see the album to know exactly which song rests underneath his fingertips. Yet, he can’t take his eyes off them. Or rather, he can’t bring himself to face me.

“Julian, we don’t . . . we don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to,” I interject. I move my legs from underneath me and watch him as his lips draw into a smile.

“That,” Julian says. He turns to me then. “That’s why I like you so much, Emma. You’re intuitive and smart and considerate.” I blush.

“Julian,” I say, dropping my eyes to the floor.

“It’s true,” he says.

As if by instinct, he pulls a record from his collection, barely looking, and places it on the record player. Soft jazz fills the air as Julian makes his way back to me. My heartbeat quickens as he takes his place on the couch next to me.

“I don’t want to lie to you, Emma,” Julian says then. “But . . . right now, I don’t know how to explain what’s happening with me and my brother.”

I nod.

“Of course. I get it,” I assure him. Though, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little concerned as to the hold Julian’s brother has on him. If he doesn’t support Julian’s decision to leave LA, the weight of his brother’s disappointment may become too much for Julian to fight, not to mention the guilt Julian must feel about leaving his brother in such a delicate time. It’s a pain I can relate to in regard to my own family, specifically my sister.

Julian drops his eyes to my lips then, drawing my attention from my thoughts and back to him. My skin feels warm under his gaze.

“What I can tell you,” he starts. “Is that I’ve found a life here in New Orleans that I don’t think I can part with. The music, the food, the culture,” he rambles on. “And, there is this one girl.” His lips draw up into a smile as he speaks. “She’s blonde and beautiful. She’s a journalist with a heart for culture and history. She knows her music almost as well as I do. And she is the reason New Orleans feels so much like home, perhaps more than LA ever did.”

My insides tingle as his words caress me.

With that, Julian leans in and uses his fingers to guide my lips to his. Our lips touch, soft and gentle. He moves with care as if asking for permission before each kiss. I lean into him and bring my hand to his thick, tousled hair. It’s so soft, so . . .

Before I realize what I’m doing, I press my body more firmly into his. Our kisses grow in passion. I straddle Julian as he lifts me from the couch.

My feet dangle as he holds me close and firm. I pull away for a moment, to catch my breath and allow my flushed skin to cool. A sliver of dark hair falls across his lustful eyes as he watches me. His lips are red and ripe. They quiver for more. My lips draw into a playful grin and Julian lowers me to the ground.

His breathing slows and he takes one step back as if the moment between us has ended. I shake my head and close the distance. I move my hand to his damp neck. My fingers tingle as they are met with tiny droplets of Julian’s sweat. I was so worried tonight would end exactly as it is, with Julian and I naked and entangled. But now that we’re together, now that I see him, feel him, crave him, there’s nothing I want more than this moment with