• Chapter Thirteen •

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        Erin was grateful she didn't have to walk alone, but she was irked it had been Julian that had been the one to show such courtesy.

She had never been as upset with Al as she was in this moment. He had dragged her out, despite not wanting to go. He ditched her for his other—cooler friends—he hadn't noticed that douchebag sporting doc martins grabbing her under the table; and he didn't offer to walk her back home—to spare her from his insufferable roommate.

Al had so cunningly pushed her out the bar with her nemesis—letting her go off into the night with the one person she couldn't stand to be around. 

       "Where're you from?" Julian asked. He looked confident—his hands were in the pockets of his jacket; his arms hanging loosely as he leisurely strolled beside her.

Erin's brows furrowed, turning her attention to Jules to see that he was already looking at her.
      "Carolina."

"Which one?"

"North."

"Got any siblings?—Brothers... Sisters?"

"No."

         Julian had stonewalled her enough in the past—she didn't want his kindness under forced circumstances. Erin could swear Julian was only doing this because he had to—it was to relieve himself of the tension he had created between them.

        "When did you move out here?" Julian tried again.

"A little over a year ago."

        Julian found himself smiling nervously at her coldness. "Oh-kay." He spoke with a chuckle hiding in his throat.

She sighed, "Michael moved out here for school so I came with him. He studied at NYU... school for arts... Tisch."

        "Albert went there." Julian stated; as if this were the first he'd heard of it.

"Yeah—how do you think Al and I met?" Erin laughed mockingly.

"So, Michael—is he still around, or..."

"You mean in the city?"

"No, I mean... are you guys workin stuff out?"

"No." Erin wanted him to stop asking so many questions. This question in particular she felt the need to answer—so that Al didn't tell him first.

Mostly though, Erin wanted Julian to understand that she hated living with them more than he hated her living there.

        "Michael cheated on me. I think we could've gotten past it, if he hadn't lied about it. I knew he cheated, and when I asked him, he seemed completely oblivious. I snapped—I destroyed the apartment... so he kicked me out."

"I'd kick you out too." Julian mumbled—grinning as he said it.

        Erin wondered if Julian was the type to pour bleach on her clothes—or threaten to pour it down her throat. She wondered if he was the type to kick in doors, to grab and pull hair and choke.

She questioned if he would (or if he had) slammed a girlfriend against a wall. The way Julian had smacked that guy back at the bar made her question if he had experience in doing the same to girls.

       It was always tough to tell—violence was violence.

Whatever the answer was, Erin didn't ask him.
    "Al told me several times I needed to leave, but I didn't listen."

        "What'd he do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if Al told you to leave, he had to be doin something wrong."

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