Anywhere With You • {J.C.}

||Preface||

"Just talk to me... please." Harlow begged.

His brown eyes locked with her hazel ones once more, but this time only showing annoyance. He looked upset, almost like he was calling her stupid with his eyes. His long layered hair appeared messier than before, or perhaps she hadn't noticed it. It was hard to notice anything like that during their times together like this.

"And say what, that I understand- that everything's fine and that we can just... go back to the way things were?" Julian spoke with spite—the sound of his tone filled with disdain of the idea.

"Yeah, something like that." She forced a laugh to break the burning ache in the back of her throat—it didn't work.

"I understand, I really do. But... things can't just go back the way it was."

"It doesn't have to." Harlow reached for him, wrapping her small arms around Julian's neck as she tried pulling him closer. He nearly grimaced at the gesture; turning his head away—pulling back. "Jules, listen... it doesn't have to. Just- tell me you love me and... everything will be fine. That's seriously all I need from you. I can't keep doing this. I can't keep pretending that we're just good friends."

"So that's what this is about?" Julian spoke rhetorically, brushing her hands away from his neck. He grabbed a hold of her wrists, placing them at her sides.

It was the first thing that came to mind when someone had asked what they were—what she meant to him. He hadn't realized that she had even heard his answer to the question. Of course he wanted more; Harlow was the first girl he had let in since her; since she had broken his heart and realized she didn't love him anymore. He tried his luck with Harlow, mostly because she understood.

That was how this whole thing even started.

He didn't want anyone to know—he wasn't ready to deal with the stigma that came with falling for his friend. He was supposed to be a stepping stone; Harlow was supposed to use Julian to move on, that was the deal. The difference between the pair of friends was that Harlow was open about her current emotional state—how she was falling for him and didn't care about the ridiculous circumstances that brought them together like this.

Julian shouldn't have cared either; he didn't care what others thought. It was simply an excuse—he didn't want to get hurt again. She knew he wasn't ready to be anything more than what they were—she knew what happened to him.

He wanted Harlow to tell him that it was all the same, that he was no better than her previous lover. He told himself that this was what he wanted—to be on his own again, instead of anywhere with her.

Only, that wasn't true.

"Jules, look at me and tell me you don't love me... I have to hear you say it. That's the only way I'm gonna let this go." Her hands found his face again, coaxing him to look at her. "But before you answer... I want you to know that I love you." Her voice was trembling, but she managed to keep her tears at bay.

Julian swallowed hard. He couldn't admit it—no way in hell could he let her know just how much she meant to him. It wasn't just the meaning of their potential relationship, it was the simple meaning of their friendship. He had to tread carefully—anything he were to say in this moment could be used against him.

Before Julian could filter his words, something strange came out. "You know I can't say that. You know I can't do it."

"Then tell me you love me. Just fucking say it, why's it so hard to say it?"

And then... it happened. "I don't love you. I'm... I'm not in love with you." Julian took a step back, pushing her hands away from his face in one swipe. He stared at her for only a moment—taking in the beautiful girl he had just broken.

Her little black dress was wrinkled now; the small denim vest hanging off her shoulder due to the reckless intimacy they had just experienced against the wall of some party in the back room. He could tell she was choking back tears because of the way her black wired choker moved around her neck. Her glowing tanned skin was beginning to splotch a dark pink from the tears brimming her eyes—her long dark hair tucked behind her diamond pierced ears. Even in her distressed state, Harlow was still beautiful. How could he not be in love with that?

He realized he had been looking at her for more than a moment—he was staring at her.

"If that's really how you feel-" Harlow sniffled. "Then we're no longer friends."

"We never really were. What kinda friend would use someone for sex to get over some piece of shit they should've gotten over in the first five minutes-"

"Stop. Just fucking stop. You don't love me, you were never my friend... so just leave." Harlow shrugged with another sniffle, folding her hands behind her back, leaning her head back into the wall. Her voice was no longer unsteady—she was defiant in her demeanor, as if her love for him had been turned off by a switched.

Julian was confused—he had stopped what was about to start, but it didn't make it hurt any less. Her sudden cold manner had left him completely baffled.

"What are you still doing here?... Fucking leave!" Harlow pointed toward the door—the sound of her screaming voice was sure to be heard throughout the house; she had yelled in the middle of a song change—the bass no longer thumping against the walls.

There were many times Julian wanted to scream—many times he wanted to raise his voice to be heard, but it wasn't in his nature. He wasn't drunk enough to express how he felt, nor was he even capable of making Harlow understand.

Instead, Julian nodded while pinching his bottom lip between his teeth. He started toward the door, still looking to her over his shoulder until his hand reached the brass knob.

"This is a chance. I'm giving you a chance."

"It's never gonna be. You and me... it can't happen. You know that- you've known that from the beginning. I can't be what you want me to, I'm mentally... I'm not there yet." He started to open up, but it was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to leave—he wanted to do exactly what she had screamed for him to do, but for some reason, his feet wouldn't move. He was completely entranced by her, even in her torment.

"Was this some sort of trap? Because if it was, it worked. Congratulations Jules, you hurt me more than Alex did." Harlow pushed herself away from the wall, pacing the room to find her belongings. She snatched her cross-body purse from the bed—where they had planned to make it before the night was over, but didn't. She threw the strap over her petite body while storming toward the door. Somewhere in that room was a pair of lace panties, but Harlow didn't have the motivation to look for them.

She had full intent on pushing him out of the way—childishly shoulder bumping him to make her anger more obvious. Harlow couldn't do that though, Julian had stepped aside—away from the door to let her go. He can't say he knew much about women, but he knew that trying to talk to one while they were irate was something never to do.

He wasn't much of a playboy, but he had been laid more than a few times—been in a few relationships through his young, teenage life. He had been smacked before, he could even recall a gameboy and a shoe being thrown at his head—all because he had tried to talk to them while they were indignant. He knew it was best to keep his mouth shut and to let Harlow cool off before he spoke to her again.

But by the menacing glance shot his way as she stormed past him, it didn't look like that was going to be anytime soon.