27. Chapter 27

Chapter twenty-seven

Caleb

"Parking lot at seven in the morning tomorrow, everyone. That's seven o'clock in the morning, not seven-o-one, not seven-o-five…" Juliette held her hands up to prompt the class's reply.

"Not seven-fifteen," a chorus of exhausted teens grumbled.

"I have all the tickets for the theme park, the food vouchers for you and your guardians. Do not forget to take your costume from the closet. Love you all, dearly. I am not taking a single piece of costuming! If you forget a headpiece, the whole ensemble will dance without it."

The threat was not idle. The students all turned to one member of the group who turned bright red and held up her hands.

Juliette bowed her head slightly and all the girls curtseyed, the boys bowed, and everyone clapped as they left the room and parents walked in, bombarding Juliette.

"We still having the paint party on Monday, Miss Juliette?"

"What time do you want us all here?"

"Yes! Thank you. Nine o'clock?" her voice inclined upwards.

"We'll be here," Xander winked at her. Juliette was mobbed by parents asking questions and confirming who was and was not going to the performance tomorrow and then spending the Monday of Spring break painting the studio.

Kelsey was ready to go, bejeweled tutu in her arms. "Are you coming?" Ana asked me directly.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," I replied. Kelsey held back an embarrassed smile. She and Ana shared a look that spoke volumes between them .

I was stalling, waiting to see Juliette, to judge her reaction to me. She had been avoiding eye contact so far, which didn't bode well.

Juliette left the cluster that continued to strategize carpool. Juliette and I were supposed to carpool. I wondered if that was still happening. "Hey, Mr. Ramirez, can I have a word before you go?" she asked tossing her ballet shoes by the stereo.

Mr. Ramirez? Worse than I thought.

I followed her, leaving Kelsey in the lobby with her friends. Juliette closed the door behind me in the shoe box office and spoke before I could even form a sentence. "About last night, I'm really sorry. I was very drunk and—"

I held up my hand to cut her off. "Yep. No need to finish the sentence. Drunk and horny. I was there and convenient. Got it."

"Yeah."

"Mhm."

Juliette twisted her ballet skirt so tightly it was in danger of causing a tear. My palms were indecently sweaty from an entire morning of ruminating over how this conversation would go. I smoothed my palms on my thighs nervously and I tried—I really did—not to picture her riding them as a half-drunk impossibly beautiful mess. I should have been stopping that train of thought in its tracks, but instead I was picturing a repeat performance.

So was she, if the darkness in her eyes and coyness in her smile was anything to go by. We exchanged embarrassed laughter and rueful smiles. If we pretended hard enough, the magnetic attraction between us would just decay over time, according to the laws of physics.

Juliette was blushing everywhere. She'd said it had been a long time, which last night made me fucking leap for joy, because that meant FedEx guy hadn't touched her the way I had. Made her so desperate for release that she did something she clearly had second thoughts about today. "To be fair to you," I said, "I shouldn't have let it go that far."

"Oh, nope. We're not going to talk about it. It was lovely, thank you. Consent was clear. I pressured you slightly, I think. But I don't regret it. I mean, I regret pressuring you, and I'm sorry. I mean I don't regret the um… what happened. That's all we have to say about it." Juliette turned and started gathering some paperwork, to avoid my shit eating grin most likely.

"Lovely, you say?"

She groaned. "Shut up, Caleb."

I chuckled. "It's fine, I'm always here to help. Anything you need. I also thought it was lovely."

"You just never know when to stop, do you?"

"I know, but God Juliette you look so good right now." I steadied her hand with mine and her wide eyes looked up at me as she turned her back to the desk, half-sitting on it with an unsteady breath.

She was trembling. The office, cramped and cluttered with her things, left so little room for us. Between us.

I couldn't stop myself.

I wanted to stop myself.

I joined her side by side, shoulders to hips. The bleak gray carpeting held Juliette's gaze captive, the rise and fall of her chest, as unsteady as mine. An inhale strung together with anticipation we could never indulge, a feeling that should never even exist between us.

And when she glanced over at me our lips were just inches apart, the sweetest torture on the same exhale as the most painful truth. "We can't, Caleb. It's not right."

"I know. Kelsey would never forgive me," I whispered. "We both did and said some things in the moment that we can't repeat."

Juliette nodded. "Yeah. I don't even know how it happened. I just—It really has been a long time and I took advantage."

"Well, I was no saint either. Don't worry, after I leave this office, it'll be like it never happened."

"Right."

"We'll think of it as a free-trial-canceled-subscription-type situation. We really wanted to watch that one episode. We did. Now it's over."

Juliette chuckled, the charged energy in the room diffusing with our laughter.

I took my cue and put a hand to the doorknob. "See you for dinner? "

"You and Kelsey seeing those houses?"

I nodded.

"Do you want me to come?" she asked.

"Oh, Juliette, you say the word and I'll help you come right there on that desk."

"Caleb!"

"I said after I left this office it would be like nothing happened. I haven't left yet."

"I just… Really… You're the—"

I wanted to kiss her silent. "Finally, you're the one stuttering."

"Caleb Ramirez, get out of my office before I," she pressed her lips together. "We can't," she finished on a breathy whisper.

"I know. It's over. Door is open. For the record, though, I think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and I'm really pissed we met like this."

I left before she could respond. I needed her to know it, though. A deliberate self-harm, because we could pretend all we wanted, but just friends wasn't what we were anymore for me. Probably, this might be the last time we spoke like friends. It wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility that this knowledge would erode our ability to separate what we'd done from who we should be to one another.