Anywhere With You • {J.C.}

||Thirty-Three|Maybe||

"Promises, they break before they're made."
-Someday

Sitting at the dinner table, Julian wondered what he was doing there—why he was holding on so tightly to something unobtainable. He didn't want to be a father, he just wanted Harlow. Julian just needed time—Harlow, of all people, should've understood that.

They ate in silence, Julian staring across the table of food at Harlow, watching as she chewed. Her eyes never wandered his way, they stayed on her plate.

Frankie had heard everything—she had stood by the door, trying to figure out why her daughter had practically dragged Julian into the bathroom the way she had.

Pregnant—all she had heard was that Harlow was pregnant; which explained why she had been in the bathroom for as long as she had. She wasn't sure how to approach the pair who timidly ate in silence—stealing glances at one another while the other wasn't looking. Julian seemed lost, Harlow on the other hand was defiant and cold.

"So, Julian... what have you been up to these days?" Frankie asked, taking a sip of wine. She was fishing, prying to see if Julian had a stable job. From what little she had heard, it seemed as though Julian had wanted to keep the baby—Harlow did not. Frankie was upset; she thought her daughter could talk to her about anything, but apparently not.

Julian cleared his throat, nervously wiping his lips. "Um... not much. Just... goin' to school and work."

"Where do you work?" Frankie spoke curtly, nearly before Julian had time to even finish his sentence.

"The Underground. It's this bar in the city. I make pretty good money... in tips, anyway."

"You're a bartender? I thought you were underage." Frankie snapped again; this time, Harlow noticed. She stared at her mother with narrowed eyes, cautioning her to tread carefully.

"I am. I'm- I'm nineteen, but... it's alright, you know... as long as I don't drink it." Julian chuckled nervously, looking over at Harlow, begging her to save him. He wasn't sure where all the questions were coming from, and judging by the looks of it, Harlow wasn't sure either.

"Do you drink?" Frankie spoke up again—this time, Harlow came to Julian's defense.

"Does it matter?" Harlow spat, chuckling with spite before taking a drink of water.

"Guess not." Frankie pursed her lips, stabbing a piece of pork tenderloin with her fork a little hard—the silverware clinging against the chinaware.

Julian wanted to leave, he wanted to get out and never come back—but, he couldn't do that. He had to stay, he had to know for sure that there wasn't a chance of a future with Harlow. He needed to see that pregnancy test—he needed to see it for himself. That potential plus sign was the only thing holding them together. He could handle a few underhanded comments from Frankie until then—he was "man" enough to do that.

"So where is it that you live again?" Frankie wasn't giving up so easily—by the end of this dinner, someone was going to give her an answer.

"In the city." Julian swallowed hard, taking a swig of cola to seem collected.

"You live alone, or..."

"My buddy, Al. We've known each other since about fourteen. We used to go to school together." Julian tossed his napkin onto the plate, looking to Harlow to call it a night. He was tired of getting reamed with questions. Aside from the first time he'd met Frankie, she seemed to like Julian—now, she seemed to despise him. He was confused, but ultimately accepting of Frankie's hatred. No telling what all Harlow had told her mother about him since the last time he'd seen her.