Noah

I folded my arms over my chest and leaned a shoulder against the wall. "If you saw Julian here, it's called cruising."

"Heh. Cruising." He pulled a strained laugh and took a step closer as two ladies passed to get in line. "Funny you should mention that."

Oh, really.

I narrowed my eyes, wondering if I'd become so whipped and focused on Julian that I'd missed something obvious.

His gaze strayed before he faced me again. "You're kinda difficult to get alone, you know."

Yup, I'd missed something.

I let out a chuckle and scrubbed a hand over my face. "You flirtin' with me, kid?"

This attention, I was used to. Flattering for sure, but I had no interest. Nor would I have taken the bait back in the day. If there'd been a beautiful woman on his arm, fuck yeah. But only one guy had captured my attention—and pretty much everything else—and he wasn't here.

"I don't work for you anymore," he said, "and I owed it to myself to try." With that, he stepped close enough so our chests were touching. His flirting was bold already, so I hadn't expected another move from him. But before I could decline, the fucker planted one on me.

What the hell?

It was surreal, and I just fucking stood there. Did I make dudes' gaydar go off all of a sudden? I cursed internally and broke away.

He looked confused. "You're not gay?"

"Uh…" I chuckled, 'cause it was all I could do. "It's not—" that easy. Fuck. "I'm not int—" I sounded like a stuttering moron, but I didn't give two shits 'cause that was when I saw Julian at the opening of the hallway. "Goddammit, I'm too old for cliché bullshit." He was quick to bail, and it made me groan. As I grew anxious, I gave Michael a tight smile and squeezed his shoulder. "It's been nice working with you, Michael. Not interested, though." I left it there and took off after Julian.

I'd only gotten a glimpse of him, but it had been enough. He was drunk, and he'd looked shocked and wounded to see me with another guy. Fuck it, I couldn’t blame him, but if he'd been sober, he would have seen it for what it was.

"Julian!" I pushed past the chatty ladies who worked for Brooklyn in makeup and finally caught up to him when he reached the exit. "Not so fast, kid."

"Let go of me." He flinched away and headed outside, and I followed with a fucking sigh. "It was a mistake to come."

The last couple of weeks came rushing back, and he was pissing me off. I didn't do drama. I didn't chase.

"Hey!" I stopped on the sidewalk and glared at his back.

The anger in my tone made him stop, and he turned to me.

Deep breath. We needed to talk, not yell. He was in a bad way, shadows back under his eyes, hair messier than usual. The kid knew how to worry me. With a jerk of my chin, I told him to follow me, and I walked between the two buildings so we could get some privacy.

It wasn't a deep alley, and I came to a stop some fifteen feet away from the sidewalk.

"What the fuck is going on with you, Julian?" I asked, frustrated. "Did you know I had to hear from Tennyson that you're staying at Danny and Zane's place? I'm fucking worried here, but you won't talk to me."

He laughed darkly and kicked at a bottle on the ground. "You didn't seem very worried in there."

"Fuck you," I told him. "Fuck you all the way off for that. Maybe it looked bad, but I didn't instigate shit. Nor did I kiss him back. But even if I had?" I widened my arms. "So what? I'm a free man, aren't I?"

As soon as those words left me, I regretted them. They were true, but I had to fucking cool it. He frustrated me so damn much because I could see the state he was in. He'd never been able to hide his moods or how he felt; he only refused to talk.

"You gotta level with me, kid." I took a gentler approach and placed my hands on his shoulders. "You look like shit."

"Thanks."

I rolled my eyes and hauled him in for a hug. "You know that’s not what I meant." I sniffed his hair, smelling cigarette smoke and… Well, he probably hadn't showered in a few days. "Why did you leave the loft?"

"I needed space." He wouldn’t hug me back yet, but I could be a relentless motherfucker. "I told you."

"You never tell me why." That was the problem. "Why did you call Danny instead of Nicky?"

He tensed up. "I don't feel like being anybody's fuck toy."

Fuck. His tone… Was that what he thought I wanted? Just sex? Nicky, sure. He was a cunt stain. But I wasn’t Nicky.