Chapter 14
JULIAN POLE
My friends were ransacking my closet like stylists on a caffeine overdose. Even Rico was in on it, which honestly surprised me.
"We can't mess this up," Rico muttered, sounding like a tired project manager.
I was sitting at the edge of my bed, watching them turn my clothes into battlefield casualties.
"Jace will like him no matter what," Luka said, holding up two shirts like he was making life-or-death decisions. "Don't you see the way he looks at him?"
"This is his first date in ages," Rico deadpanned.
They were literally talking about me like I wasn't in the room.
"Everything looks good on me," I said.
Luka shot me a look. "Yeah?"
"I mean… uh—"
"Let's just get you ready," Rico interrupted, tossing me a jacket. "We don't have much time."
After what felt like forever, they finally declared me date-worthy and shoved me toward the door like I was a bride leaving her family behind.
I wanted to tell my dad I was going out, but I couldn't tell him who with. He'd lose his mind if he knew I was dating my professor. Both my parents were in the dark about this, and I planned to keep it that way—for now.
Dad wasn't in his bedroom. Maybe his office.
I knocked once. Twice.
"Dad?"
No answer.
The door creaked open. His office smelled like paper and old coffee.
I don't even know what that smells like,but it smells like paper.
His desk was a mountain of files—reports stacked in neat chaos. I knew I shouldn't, but curiosity always wins with me. Dad never tells me what he's working on.
The top files were the usual—case summaries, witness statements, mugshots.
One was sexual assault.
Another, shooting at a private party.
Then theft, multiple counts.
My eyes caught on the next file.
Mateo Marino.
Charges: extortion, smuggling, and suspected gang activity, mafia stuff apparently.
I flipped the page—
Marco Marino. Younger brother. Similar list of crimes.
I was about to turn the next page when Luka's voice shattered the silence.
"What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were gone," Luka said, half out of breath.
I quickly closed the file. "I wanted to tell Dad."
"He went out ages ago."
"Where?"
"Grocery. Mom's coming back today."
"Oh."
He pointed at the door. "Then get going, Romeo. You said he's picking you up from the flower shop."
"Yes, yes, I'm going."
He opened the door wider for me like a bodyguard and I waved him goodbye before heading out.
When I got to the flower shop, Jace was already there—waiting, dressed casually, and somehow looking like every Pinterest board definition of perfect. The moment he saw me, he smiled—one of those slow, deep smiles that start from the chest—and I swear my heart forgot how to beat.
He came over, and led me to his car and opened the door for me, and that simple "click" of the handle sent butterflies racing through my stomach.
"You smell good," he said softly.
"Thanks," I managed.
He leaned in to buckle my seatbelt, his hand brushing my chest just slightly.
"I can do it," I muttered.
"I know you can," he said, eyes glinting with something between playfulness and tenderness. "But let me."
I nodded, staring out the window because if I met his eyes, I'd probably combust.
Once he started the car and pulled out into the street, I asked, "Where are you taking me?"
"Too many places," he said, taking my hand in his—like it was the easiest thing in the world.
I raised an eyebrow. "You'll see," he added with a teasing smile.
"Okay," I whispered, and—of course—blushed again.
The first stop was a chocolate bakery I'd been dying to try but could never afford. Just stepping inside felt like heaven. The smell of cocoa, vanilla, and warm sugar hit me all at once.
I looked around, stunned. "Did you rent this whole place?"
"With what we're going to do today," he said, "I thought we might disturb their business a little. So I paid for the day."
I squinted at him. "Are you… bragging?"
"Maybe," he said with that dangerous little shrug.
I knew he was rich-rich, but still. "What exactly is this thing we're doing?
He didn't reply — just took my hand and led me into the kitchen.
We ended up making chocolate cookies,a short chocolate bread, and so many other snacks. But we made a lot of mess before we actually got anything right, flour on the counter, chocolate on our faces, laughter bouncing off the walls.
I don't even know how he knew I loved chocolate. Maybe people just magically figure things out about the ones they like.
But then, I realized, I barely know him. Just that he's my professor. I know where he lives. That's it. I'm not complaining, though. He'll tell me when he's ready, when he's comfortable enough.
The second place he took me was a resort with a view so beautiful it looked like a painting,and colors, everywhere. Drawing boards, sketchbooks, brushes. I almost screamed from happiness. I sketched the view like I was trying to trap the moment forever.
Again, he knows I like art. He's a law professor of course he knew.
The third place he took me was an Italian restaurant — the kind you only see in movies, the kind that serves pasta in perfect spirals, like art. I couldn't believe I was sitting there with him, eating food that tasted like heaven.
Then we rode the skyride, the city glittering beneath us like spilled stars.
On the way back, I told him to drop me off at the flowery shop. I could walk from there.
He opened the door for me, as always. I stepped out and smiled.
"Thank you for making my day special," I said.
"No," he said, his voice low, smiling back. "Thank you for saying yes — and for letting me make your day special."
I nodded, because if I opened my mouth, I'd probably say something stupid. I stood on my toes and kissed him. He kissed me back, slow and deep, sucking on my bottom lip before I pulled away.
"Someone might see," I whispered.
He nodded. He understood — a student and their professor? No, no.
"I'll watch you till you get home," he said.
"It's just five blocks away."
"I know."
I nodded again and started walking. Sure enough, when I turned back, he was still standing there — watching me.
I needed to see Enzo. I couldn't keep him waiting. He said he had something important to tell me—and who knows, maybe it actually is.
When I got to our block, Jace was still there, leaning against his car. My heart jumped into my throat, so I took the back door instead. I waited, hiding like I had something to be guilty about.
Why am I even hiding?
Maybe because Enzo likes me. Maybe because my friends won't stop saying I'm "cheating." Crazy, right?
Still… I didn't want Jace to see me. Not now. Not when I don't even know what I'm doing.
Once I was sure he'd driven off, I ordered an Uber to the address Enzo sent me this morning.