Leave the Night On Pt. 04

My eyebrows almost join my hair. Jules?

Up close, her hand is on his arm. That arm I adore and idolize. That arm I have dreams about. She's his ex-wife. She is the mother of his child. She is the woman who used to be fucked on the bed he fucks me in. And her hand is on his arm.

"Always knew how to make an entrance, Kay," Julian says. And the voice he uses with her is a callused one. Comfortable and intimate.

"Oh, come on," she says to him, all playfulness. "I was dying to meet her."

She was dying to meet me? Me?

I try not to keep staring at her hand on him. I try not to remember these two people were once so crazy in love with each other they got married. I try not to be jealous. Because I have no right to be. Because it makes no sense that I am.

And yet.

Instantly and uncontrollably.

Unreasonably, I am jealous.

I turn on Miss Jones mode, putting Julian's Black Pearl on the back seat. "Hannah is a good kid. You must be crazy proud of her," I say to Karen, avoiding Julian's eyes like he might burn me to death if I dare hold his gaze.

He can't see the jealousy. I won't be able to handle his smugness if he notices the streak of possessiveness in me.

"We are," Karen says, beaming at me. That hand on that arm squeezes.

I smile. I think it doesn't look as stiff as it feels on my face. I can't find words to say. Luckily for me, Karen has enough words for both of us. "I'd love to talk to you some more. Can I offer you some hot chocolate?" She releases Julian's arm and jerks a thumb over her shoulder, pointing to the table set up with candies and cupcakes under the same tree where Julian and I had our first dinner date. "I swear," she says, biting her lip in a way that seems way too sexy. "Jules makes the best hot chocolate in the world."

Okay. I'm jealous. I wish I knew she was this pleasant and sociable. I wish I'd come prepared. Thank all my Gods Camille made me wear this dress. At least, I feel hot today. Which is stupid. I said so myself: I'm not here to compete with Karen. Anyway, she seems nice. Genuinely nice. So, I decide to be nice, too. "Oh God, hot chocolate sounds indecently like what I need right now." I say, successfully conveying niceness.

She laughs that throw-your-head-back uncontainable laughter. Glancing at Julian, she says, "I like her already."

She barely gives me enough time to examine her comment before she's looping an arm through mine and leading me outside. "There's this special hot chocolate made only for the grown-ups," she tells me, leaning into me conspiratorially.

I glance over my shoulder to a bewildered Julian who watches his ex-wife drag me away.

***

I AM WOMAN ENOUGH TO ADMIT I can be a little judgmental sometimes. As it happens, I might have been a little precipitated in forming an immediate opinion about Karen.

The woman is nice.

We've been sitting on a long wooden bench placed under a tree in Julian's backyard sipping whisky-laced hot chocolate. Conversation has mostly centered around Hannah and what an amazing child she is. But it has also shifted to frivolous, girly subjects I only ever laugh about with Cami and Lil.

Oh, my God. Karen is so fucking nice. She's fun. She's interesting. She's so sociable and so confident. When she speaks, she looks right into your eyes; when you speak, she listens like you're oh, so interesting. Obviously, she's one of those people who make you feel so important and cool. Oh my god, I'm half in love with her already.

I am still jealous, though.

She is the outgoing, easygoing kind of gal I wish I were when I was suffering through puberty. She is that girlfriend who attracts all the eyes when you go out together. I'm the girl boys were too afraid to come near because I had the unapproachable expression. Resting bitch face, they call it.

"Oh shit, there she is," Karen says, tilting her chin in Mrs. Song's direction. "The old hag."

I laugh awkwardly, a little shocked too. "Not a great friend of yours, I assume?"

Karen waves a dismissive hand in front of her. Her nails are painted a vibrant pink. "She hates my guts." She doesn't elaborate and I don't press her. It's none of my business.

All I have is my curiosity and an inclination to stand on Julian's side of the history. Even without knowing the story, I'm biased. What he told me about his relationship with Karen basically sums up to nothing. What I do know is pretty simple: he loved her once. He married her. They had a child together. They got a divorce.

I'm itching to ask Karen about her relationship with Julian, past and present, while also acknowledging what a pathetic thing to do that'd be. None of this is my business. I might sympathize with Karen's personality, but I don't know her. Nor do I know Mrs. Song. People go through shit of their own. Their history is a tangled mess I can't begin to understand.

Now, she stares straight ahead with those expressive eyes smiling. She's watching Julian where he stands by his mother's side. He is slightly bent, his back bowing as he makes himself shorter in order to talk to her. Next to him, his mother seems tiny and fragile.

Something about Mrs. Song strikes as incredibly familiar. I'm not deceived by her apparent brittleness. She's a small woman but she's a stalwart, for sure. Same as my own grandmother, Mrs. Songs is very likely inured to life in this country. This place that still treats her like a stranger because she can't shake off the accent that serves as a reminder that she's not one of them. Not really. Not with that face, those eyes, that skin.

"Mothers and sons. Fathers and daughters. It's all so crazy." Karen's musing pulls my attention back to her.

Now that I've met The Ex-Wife, I discover more traits familiar to me because I've already noticed it in Hannah. Karen's easygoing manners are in contrast with her daughter's propensity for introversion. In spite of that, something in the slight tilt of her head and the way her eyes reveal her sharp wit refers to Hannah.

Before, Julian's shadows were the only ones I was able to glimpse in their child. Having met Karen, I'm being forced to come to terms with the fact Hannah isn't only his. As much it might've seemed like she was.

"Yeah," I murmur. "It is crazy."

Karen isn't the only novelty today. For the first time, I'm getting to see Julian as a son. He is attending to his mother, serving her a drink. Across the lawn, a good distance from Karen and me, she's sitting with three other women whose appearance suggests similar age and ethnicity. I realize, looking around, that there's only a few other Korean people attending the party. I take it as a sign their family isn't very large. As far as I know, Julian's family is encompassed by himself, his daughter and his mother. A family of three.

Scanning the scene, I notice the moms who are daily drooling over Julian gathered in a collective admiring stance. "Check those thirsty moms out." I point Karen in Julian's Fanclub direction.

Her eyes light up with excitement. "Ooh. He has fans?"

"Girl, you have no idea! I swear some of them have timed their schedule with his. They wait to see him every day. At drop out time, and at pick up time."

Karen's mouth makes a cunning little curve. "He's one gorgeous bastard, isn't he?"

"He's nice to look at," I say, tasting the self-betrayal leaving my mouth.

Karen gives me a bullshit detector look that reminds of Cami and Lil. "Yeah, girl. I see you enjoying it."

My eyes grow like dark marbles. "Oh?"

She smiles knowingly. "He didn't tell me there was someone. I guessed," she says, going back to admire him. "Something's different about him lately."

Now my whole face is set to betray my feelings. "He's... different?"

Karen's pertly plucked eyebrows draw closer to her hairline. "He is," she says softly. It's as if she knows I'm insecure about Julian's feelings towards me. "I was watching you two at the school Tuesday. Today, when you arrived, and I saw the way he was with you, my suspicions were confirmed." She clicks her tongue. "Boy is smitten."

Julian likes me. I know he does. I feel it. And yet...

This week, I've been feeling that maybe I know less than I'd like about him. Being here now, in his house, around his family, I get a sense that maybe the man fucking me is a different version to the man hosting his daughter a birthday party. The worst thing is, I'm not sure the man I get to have in my bed is the real thing. That version of him seems to be a privilege exclusive to me. At the same time, something tells me my Julian is merely a secret identity, an escape from reality for the real Julian here today.

Karen is silently studying my face while I dwell on the fact that she thinks Julian is smitten with me. I wonder which version of him she means. This here is the mother of his child. For whatever reason, my instinct tells me to explain myself to her. If anyone can understand my infatuation with Julian, that's Karen. "Karen," I begin, turning half my body towards her. "I hope you know I understand what this would mean for Hannah. No one knows. She doesn't know, and I promise you that this won't affect her, or my job as her teacher. Your daughter is my first concern. I would sooner stop this thing with Julian than confuse Hannah in any way."

Karen shakes her head and pats a friendly hand on my knee. "You misunderstand me, Pearl," she says, comfortingly. "Hannah loves school. From what I'm told, you are an awesome teacher. And Julian? He needs this. I'm not sure he told you...?" She lets the question hang in the air.

"Not really," I admit to her.

She nods, but I'm not sure she understands how in the dark I am. "I have someone. Gareth." My eye immediately goes to the crowd. Searching. "He's not here," Karen explains. "He travels a lot for work. Anyway, my point is that Hannah is Julian's whole life. Don't get me wrong, she's my world, too. I love her to death. For Julian though? She is everything. He lives for her. I don't mean to say I see anything wrong with that! He's such a wonderful, wonderful dad. I couldn't have wished for a better father for my child. He's much better at parenting than me, but...he's a man too, you know. He's alive!" Karen waves her hands as she speaks, eyes widening and narrowing, marking the intensity of her meaning. She is as clean and open as a person can be.

I really do like her.

"Anyway," she continues. "Julian needs to live some of life for himself as well. He hasn't given his own needs much thought in a while and I think he is now. Whatever is happening between you two, he seems happier. I can see it in his face every Monday when he drops Hannah at my place." Karen pauses and eyes me expectantly. When my lips twitch, she picks up the unsaid. "I can see you're doing him good, Pearl. Now that I've met you, I understand why he likes you so much. You remind him there's a life out there that doesn't solely revolve around his fatherly duties."

Karen's words are just what I needed to hear. "You really think that? That he's happy?"

Her fond smile shows she can see my vulnerabilities laid bare. She is nice enough to pretend she can't see it. "" He is," she reassures me. "And you know, Hannah likes you too. She's quiet. She's a bit introverted. She gets that from his gene pool. I can't keep my mouth shut, as you've noticed."

I manage a small laugh. "Thank you, Karen." I don't know why having her approval seems so important.

"An advice, if I may," she prods.

At this point, I'm feeling so at ease around her that I allow it. "Please."

"Julian isn't as cool as he seems," she shares. "Be careful with him. He's already had his fair share of hurting."

I could almost laugh at her concern for Julian while I'm sitting here worrying about my ever-deepening feelings for him. "Don't worry," I say to her, sounding not as firm as I'd wish. "He's safe with me."

Fearing the incoming silence or more on the topic of unexamined feelings, I rise too fast only to teeter on my feet.

"Hey." Karen takes a hold of my elbow, steading me. "Easy there, girl. I think we need to ease up on the grown ups' hot chocolate."

"I think I need some water."

***

I STEP OUT OF THE LAVATORY into a hallway I've never explored before. Admittedly, Julian's house is enormous. Every Friday night is either spent in the kitchen/living room area or in Julian's bedroom. The rest of the house is uncharted territory. I don't mean to pry, even so, my curiosity gets the best of me.

The walls lining this hallway are littered with hanging portraits. Some are very old, black and white or sepia colored. A man who can only be Julian's father stands with a younger version of his mother in front of a battered farm house. Most pictures show Hannah as a baby. One of the photos in particular calls to me. I brush my fingers over the frame on the image of two identical boys, down to the same bowl haircut to the matching onesies.

The next image portraits a wedding. My heart lurches in my chest, but then I realize the man isn't Julian. The bride looks Korean, too. So the groom must be Julian's brother. Henry. To the left, there's another picture of Julian's twin. I study it closer and realize they don't quite look so identical.

The man in the picture has the same mouth, the same eyes, that same starburst smile. He's a copy, complete with the dimples, the beautiful charcoal eyebrows, the really great hair. But Henry is another man wearing Julian's face.

Henry has nothing of Julian's ease. He is less tan. His smile is just as crooked, but naïve. There's more of the confidence, but less of the smugness. He is just as handsome as Julian, but still-

"Is he hotter?"

I yelp, startled. Julian is leaning on the hallway's doorway, already smirking. "You scared the bejesus outta me!" I shriek.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he says, lazily striding towards me. "It's just that I've been standing here for a whole minute watching you stare at my brother's picture. I'm getting jealous." He stops just near enough that his exhale ruffles the tiny coiled curls on my nape. "Unless you thought that's me."

I return my gaze to his twin's picture, mostly to hide my satisfied smirk. "You've been here for a whole minute?"

In a single, innocent step the heat irradiated from his chest is a mere suggestion of touch on my back. Goosebumps spread along my spine as his breath blows a warm breeze in my ear when he whispers, "I was staring at your wonderful ass in this gorgeous dress while you were admiring Henry's picture."

The air I'm breathing becomes thick as cotton candy. "I was observing. Not admiring. There's a difference."

A daring hand slides around my waist. "This dress of yours is very inappropriate, Miss Jones," he says, squeezing and pulling me flush against him.

Julian curls the front of his body over the back of mine. I lean into his warmth, letting my head rest against his shoulder. The worry that someone might come in and witness our breach of conduct is a nagging fear I'm ignoring. Right now, I love his nearness too much to care.

"And yet, you stood there staring at my ass for a full minute," I tease.

"That's why I used the word inappropriate." His lips brush the slide made of the juncture of my neck and shoulder. His hand, now sneaking from my waist up my ribs, yanks Cami's scarf free of my neck, revealing all the cleavage the dress was designed to highlight. "You should only be around me in a dress this tight when I can rip it off of you." His every word is punctuated by his index finger making the trip down the valley between my breasts.

My brain starts malfunctioning as that single fingertip retakes the path up my exposed skin. "This dress is expensive." I'm breathing unevenly already. "I'd kill you if you ripped it."

"Oh, My Pearl, but I'd make it worth your while," he sings, and two fingers slip through the fold of the dress and come in direct contact with the curve of my left breast. "I'd make you feel so good you'd never want to wear anything ever again."

Julian's index and middle fingers find one eager, plucked nipple and pinch it, causing my lust to go spiraling down. My core heats and I spin around causing his lips to slide from my nape to my throat.

"He's tidy," I say, short of both breath and refrainment.

He makes a distracted "Uh?" sound against my skin.

"Your brother," I clarify, swallowing thickly. One of my arms lift to tangle into his hair. "You look the same, but he's so...tidy. He is a nice boy. You're the one girls like me have dirty dreams about."

Julian releases a deep throated groan, and in a whirl of movement, my shoulder blades hit the wall, rattling pictures. "What are you doing?" I ask, suddenly pinned between the wall and his tall, strong body.

"You wanted five minutes, remember? I owe you five minutes," he says, almost menacingly.

Our scenario transforms suddenly. We forget where we are. Every other version of us vanishes, forgotten on the other side of these walls. Julian is not a father; I'm not his daughter's teacher. In a single exhale, I become his Pearl. Every aspect of who I am is rearranged into desire.

Blinking coquettishly, I play the seductress, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip. "Well then?" I defy him.

I blink one more time, and then he's upon me.

We crash together. Julian takes my mouth, his tongue invading and demanding. My arms loop around his neck, bringing him closer to me. At the taste of him, I let myself go. I yield with a weak, helpless sound that seems to spur him on because his answering noise comes from a dark, unknown place. His hands become violent and hungry, fisting the soft wool of my dress, pulling it up my thighs. My own are pulling at his hair, nails scraping against his skull.

My legs obediently part so he can fit himself between them. Searching for friction, I wrap one calf around his, tilting my hips to his. His erection is a sudden silent force, insistently pressing between us.

"You showed up in this tight thing to torment me, didn't you?" He growls against my neck and bites. I love his teeth there so much I almost melt. "Jesus, Pearl. Who comes to a children's party looking this hot?"

I would have a quip to throw back at him had my brain the ability to function around both of his hands gliding to my ass, getting filled up with flesh. With a firm hold, he lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. Locked together like this, we begin to move. In a blind frenzy, I arch into every thrust of his hips, seeking touch through our clothes. The hardness pushing against the fly of his jeans rubs just right over the slick gossamer thin layer of my panties. The gentle pressure I get from this builds slowly and frustratingly.

"You're wearing this dress for me tomorrow. I want to fuck you in it." Julian grabs my face with one hand, tilting my head back against the wall. In his eyes there's the indomitable hunger consuming me too. "Say you'll let me fuck you in this dress, My Pearl."

In face of my momentary inability to form words, his hips push, rubbing against me. "Say it."

"Yes," I cry out, clutching at his shoulders, seeking leverage in this teasing dance he does, going back and forth, thrusting, making me wild. "I'll let you fuck me in any clothing you want."

"I want you to come," he says. "Just once, My Pearl. I just want to see you come once. You have no idea how fucking gorgeous you look when you come."

"Yes." My eyes roll shut. "Oh God, yes."

"Come for me, My Pearl. Just let me see you-"

"Jae-Woo?!"

My world is thrown off balance when, too suddenly, Julian stops what he's doing to me. Shit. Without warning, he drops me on wobbling legs back to the ground.