song : she will be loved (a song that always reminded me of noah, julia & neal cause noah and neal, both of them, feel this way about her)
It was a half an hour drive to Neal's apartment at Knightsbridge. For the first few minutes, they didn't talk and the radio was on. Julia looked down at her lap, playing with the satin ribbon wrapped around the small gift box they were passing when Neal and she left. There were four macarons inside and it took her everything not to open the box already.
Beauty queen of only eighteen, she had some trouble with herself, Adam Levine's voice from the radio blared.
A heavy sigh filled the car interior, causing her to look at Neal who concentrated on driving.
So, she stared. He was mouthing the lyrics, his lips moving slightly as if afraid of getting caught. She smiled, watching him. I don't mind spending every day out on your corner in the pouring rain. Look for the girl with the broken smile, ask her if she wants to stay awhile. She will be loved.
He looked back, his gray eyes dark in the car interior, his face impassive as he changed the station before going back to driving. With a tempting frown, Julia let her eyes dart to the window. A construction site was visible on their left, workers chatting over their cigarettes in the sidewalk. They passed the Embassy of France and approximately five minutes later, they were making our way upstairs to the apartment.
Neal's room, like Julia had said before, was on the other end of the pavilion C, overlooking the Knightsbridge. This could be looked on as a 'trophy home'.
Instead of the ambient light, he turned on the LED lights over the electric fireplace right above a silver tufted wall, giving the room a gloomy effect.
"Should I turn that on?" Neal flicked his eyebrows towards the fireplace as he helped her shrug off her cloak.
"Sure." She moved his hands from her arms slowly, trying to forget how nice they felt. He looked alarmed at her action when he moved away to turn the fireplace on.
"Would you like a drink?"
"Yes, please." Julia let her eyes roam to distract herself. His room smelled a lot like leather and surprisingly glue. On the way to his walk in shower was the sinking boat made of wires sitting on the pool. Tilting her head, Julia observed it. Firefly lights were wrapped around the wires, informing her that the piece glowed.
"Are you okay with Chardonnay?" Neal sauntered in, his jacket discarded to reveal his tattooed arm. Two glasses dangled from his one hand and a familiar bottle of Domaine Leflaive noticeable in his other.
She gave him a nod, fixing her eyes on the boat. "Do these lights work?"
"Yes." He handed her her drink and she immediately took a sip to get rid of the dryness in her throat, watching as he switched the lights on. The room filled with an impressive glow, making her smile.
"This is beautiful." She looked up at him. "How long did it take to make this?"
"A month or so. Are you hungry?"
She shook her head and took another sip of her wine, tasting the faint tropical on her palate. "Where is that one?"
That was on the balcony under the shed. The sculpture was a foot longer than her: a hummingbird made with beer cans. It also had electric lights attached inside the cans.
"How about your other works?" She tried not to notice the goosebumps in her bare shoulders.
His other handiworks were treasured inside another room right outside his bedroom. The lighting of his workshop was naturally dim, from a chandelier made of tassels, clearly a work of art.
The walls were paneled with wooden doilies. Julia walked towards her left, admiring the wooden spears pointing up at the ceiling. A pile of wire lied on their feet, yet to be used. On a table, wooden carved pieces sat reluctantly. Mirror frames, photo frames, chess pieces. There was a flower crown curved with wood. Her hands instantly shot up to hold that. She restrained herself just at the last moment.
Neal walked passed her, took the crown and placed it carefully on her head. "There you go," he grinned.
"How does it look?" She bit the tip of her tongue as she smiled.
"Pretty." When she laughed, he added, "It's yours."
"No. I can't..."
"It will take me only an hour to make another. Keep it. It looks good on you." He fixed a curl stuck on a curve of the wood.
"Thanks."
Back at his room, he gave her another glass of wine, although hesitant, at her request. They sat on the white modular sofa before the fireplace, with a distance between them that Jesus would approve.
"It's kind of hard to believe that you've done all those." Julia looked at her glass, swirling it in the glass before taking out a raspberry macaroon from the gift box. Neal said no when she offered.
"I don't look creative. I know." He looked at the fire directly, illusory flames illuminating the gray of his eyes. He blinked and she frowned at how long his lashes were.
"It's not like that, Neal." She jiggled her bare right foot on the marble floor. "It's just you never talk about it like it's your little secret. I'm sure you wouldn't have told me if I hadn't caught you with the sculpture earlier that day."
He then admitted something, "It kind of is a secret."
Julia sippd on her glass and slipped off her shoes before crossing her legs. The warmth from the fireplace felt nice.
“One would think that being so close to the road, it will be noisy in here. But it's quiet.”
Neal nodded his head and smiled at her as she set her glass on the table and pulled her legs up, rubbing her ankles in the process.
“Do you think you can pour me another glass?” she asked, feeling brave.
“Are you sure?” Neal looked at her dubiously and then poured some Chardonnay in her abandoned glass. “You sure you won't regret this?”
Taking a sip, she shook her head and lied, “I am used to it.”
The musk of his perfume wafted around them and she almost wished it wasn't. She bit her lip, whipping her head to see him. He was looking down at his feet, now bare and veiny... sexy.
The Chardonnay was really getting to her.
"Neal, am I really mean?"
"Sometimes. Yes." He didn't look like he was joking.
"That's not nice of you to say."
"Maybe this is a sign." He shrugged. "You and I both are not nice."
"Maybe," she muttered, licking her lip. "Neal?"
"Hmm."
He stared and she wanted to kiss him at that moment. Shameless, she moved over, straddling him, with her knees astride his lap. When she looked down at his upturned face, confused gray eyes made her smile.
"Kiss me," she whispered against his mouth, the wine in his breath warm on hers.
"Julianne." He tried to shake her off as if not knowing how to react.
"Give me your hands." She let their breath mingle and realized that even though it was such a cliche, she really wanted this. He felt so warm, so nice, so rough.
When he held out his hands, she placed them on her waist, her own hands reaching up to touch his smooth cheeks.
Eventually, he kissed her, full on lips, dragging her lower lip between his lips gently. His hands moved around, brushing curls away from her neck, almost tickling her. Tongues involved, making her gasp and she stifled grinding on him.
Bad, Julie.
Perhaps, sticking to the hair-grabbing would be better. Well, wrapping her arms around his neck made it look as if she was going to choke him. So, she just used her fingers to massage his hair and he moaned, making her smile against his lips.
The disappointment came in waves when he pulled away, shaking his head. "No, Julie, I..."
"Did I bite your lip?"
She wanted to kiss him again and feel the softness of his lips.
"That's not... I feel kind of wrong."
How very honest!
"What's that supposed to mean?" She blinked leaning away.
"This feels wrong. On so many levels."
She sat there on his lap, feeling like a fool. "Wrong? Because I gave in?"
"No..."
"I guess I don't fascinate you anymore." She stood up, not understanding if she was embarrassed or angry.
"That's not what I meant," he protested, trying to get a hold of her hand.
"I think you meant you don't find me respectable anymore." Why else would kissing her feel wrong if that was what he wanted for so long? She offered him a derisive smile and shrugged her cloak on.
"Jesus Christ, can you even hear yourself?" He rubbed his face, clearly dejected, confused, lost like a little boy.
But, what a fucking asshole!
"Go fuck yourself, Neal."
With that, she marched out, half-tempted to see if he wanted to stop her or not.
He didn't.