Chapter 25

William

She looks sinful lying there. Jules, in my bed, tangled up in the covers like a dream I shouldn't be having. Her dress catches the early morning light filtering through the window, the sequins throwing fractured gold across her bare shoulders. I should look away, but I don't. Can't. Even asleep, she draws me in like a goddamn magnet.

Last night flashes in my mind—her laughter, her slurred words, the way she leaned too close to everyone but me. I had to step in more times than I can count, physically pulling her back when some asshole thought her drunken friendliness meant they could touch her.

"Jules, sit down," I'd growled at one point, pressing her back into the booth after she'd tried to follow someone to the bar. She'd just giggled and patted my cheek like I was a fussy dog.

"You're so bossy," she'd teased, her words thick with whiskey and exhaustion.

She wasn't herself last night, and it wasn't just the alcohol. She's not the type to throw back shot after shot like she had something to prove. Or drape herself over strangers. Or look so goddamn lost when she thought no one was watching.

But I was watching. I always am when it comes to her.

I didn't think twice about scooping her up when she finally passed out. Carrying her out of that bar wasn't just a responsibility—it was instinct. Jules needed me, even if she'd never admit it.

And now, here we are.

She stirs, her lashes fluttering against her cheek as she wakes. It's a slow process, like her body's fighting against the pull of consciousness. When her eyes finally open, they land on me, and for a second, something soft flickers across her face.

Then she bolts upright, clutching the sheet to her chest.

"Where am I?" she asks, her voice scratchy and low. Her gaze darts around the room before locking back on me, suspicion flickering in her eyes.

"My place," I say, keeping my voice even. "You passed out at the bar. I brought you here."

Her brows knit together, and she glances down at herself, taking in the shimmering gown that clings to her like a second skin. She's all long legs and dangerous curves, and it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to let my eyes linger.

"Why am I still in this?" she asks, her tone sharp with panic.

I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms. "Because I didn't touch you," I say, meeting her gaze head-on. "You were out cold, Jules. I wasn't about to undress you."

Her cheeks flush, and she looks away. "I didn't mean—"

"I know what you meant," I interrupt, softer this time. "But for the record, I slept in the guest room."

She nods, her shoulders sagging slightly. "Right. Thanks."

"Don't mention it," I mutter, even though part of me wishes she wouldn't look so relieved. Like she thought I was the kind of guy who'd take advantage.

She swings her legs over the edge of the bed, wobbling slightly as she stands. I'm beside her before she can take a step, my hands steadying her waist.

"Careful," I murmur.

Her hands press against my chest, warm and maddeningly familiar. That touch—I've craved it, dreamed of it—burns through my shirt and straight into me, setting every nerve alight. It's been too fucking long, and my body knows it, remembers her in a way I can't suppress.

She looks up at me, her eyes locking with mine, and the world seems to tilt. There's something in her gaze, something raw, and it punches the air clean out of my lungs. Her lips part, just slightly, like she's about to speak, but no sound comes.

I lean in without thinking, the pull of her too strong, too visceral. But then she moves—pulling back, taking her warmth with her, and the loss hits like a gut shot. The moment shatters, and I'm left standing there, breathless and wanting, while she slips just out of reach.

"I should go," she says, grabbing her clutch from the nightstand.

I don't move, blocking her path. "Not so fast. You were off last night, Jules. What's going on?"

She stiffens, her grip on the clutch tightening. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bullshit," I say, my frustration bubbling to the surface. "You were practically throwing yourself at strangers last night. That's not you."

Her jaw tightens, and she looks away. "It's work," she says, her voice clipped. "Stress. That's all."

I watch her carefully, searching for the truth in her words, but all I see is a wall she's determined to keep between us. I could push harder, press until she cracks, but something about the set of her shoulders tells me it won't do any good.

So, I let it go. For now.

"Fine," I say, stepping back. "But you're not leaving until you eat something."

"I'm not hungry," she mutters, but she sits back on the bed anyway, her movements reluctant.

I grab my phone from the dresser and toss it onto the bed beside her. "Order whatever you want. My treat."

She blinks at me, surprised, but I turn away before she can say anything.

"So, how long are you sticking around in LA?" Jules asks, breaking the silence. She leans back slightly, still pushing her food around, but her eyes are focused on me now.

I shrug, my gaze drifting out the window as the early morning light hits the ocean. "Kill John's here every now and then. We come to reestablish connections, do some networking, maybe chill out for a bit. We've got a bit of freedom to come and go as we please, depending on what's going on."

I watch her for a beat, seeing the tension still there in her shoulders, the way she's holding herself back. Something's bothering her, but she doesn't want to let it out.

She nods slowly, processing it, but I can see the gears turning in her head. The silence stretches between us for a moment, and I can't help but watch, trying to piece together something she doesn't want me to see.

"So, what about your music?" she asks after a pause, her voice quieter now, almost like she's testing the waters. "Are you working on anything?

I lean back in my chair, fingers drumming lightly on the table. "I'll probably work on some of that on my free time. I've been piecing together some ideas, but with everything going on... it's hard to focus."

She nods again, but her gaze drops to her hands, and I can't tell if it's because she's trying to hide or if she's just trying to let it go.

For a moment, I think she's going to ask me something else, something more, but she doesn't. The silence thickens again, and I feel that familiar tug, like she's on the edge of something—something she wants to say but is holding back.

Finally, I break it with a teasing smile, trying to lighten the mood. "So, Ecliptica."

Her fork stills mid-air, her eyes flicking up to mine, and her brows furrow.

"What about it?"

I grin. "You made me sit through that nonsense, and I still don't know why."

She doesn't immediately react the way I expect, but I see the smallest twitch at the corners of her mouth. The start of a smile, maybe.

"It's not nonsense. It's fun," she says, a little defensive.

I chuckle, leaning forward. "It's ridiculous. But if you're really into it, maybe I should give it another shot."

Jules' eyes glint with amusement, and for a second, she almost looks like herself again. That easy, carefree version of her I've known since the beginning.

"You? Play Ecliptica?" She shakes her head, but there's laughter in her eyes. "I'd pay to see that."

"Well, lucky for you," I say with a grin, "I'm up for a challenge."

She rolls her eyes playfully, clearly thinking I'm not serious about this. "Fine, if you think I'm kidding, let me show you."

I push myself up from the table and move toward the living area, where the gigantic TV looms, practically mocking my every move. As I approach the PS5, I glance back over my shoulder at her.

Jules is watching me, her arms folded across her chest, lips curved in amusement. "What are you doing?" she asks, eyebrow quirked.

"You'll see." I flick the controller on and click through the menu, pulling up Ecliptica.

Her face falls. "You've got to be kidding me."

I smirk as I connect the game and throw a glance at her. "What? I thought you said I should give it another shot."

Jules cackles, the sound filling the room like a breath of fresh air. I've been missing that laugh—free, real, like she's not carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

"You actually got it?" she says, shaking her head, clearly amused by my persistence.

"Yeah," I shrug, making myself comfortable on the couch, "I figured it'd be fun, you know. Ever since you mentioned it, I couldn't stop thinking about playing it together. Seemed like a good excuse to hang out."

Jules eyes me for a moment, like she's trying to figure me out, then huffs out a laugh. "Why do you want to play it with me, anyway?"

I look over at her, meeting her gaze. "I don't know. Maybe I figured it'd be fun. A little friendly competition? Besides, it's been ages since we've done something like this."

She gives me a skeptical look, clearly thinking I've lost my mind. "You're going to regret this," she warns, sliding down into the couch next to me. "You could barely handle it when I played it on FaceTime."

I let out a small chuckle, shifting the controller in my hands as I make myself comfortable. "You underestimate me."

She laughs again, but there's a flicker of something else in her eyes—maybe doubt, maybe something more. I can't quite tell, but I don't press.

I start the game, and the screen lights up, the ridiculous characters and over-the-top scenery flooding the room. Jules lets out a loud groan, half-disgusted, half-entertained.

"I swear, you'll be begging me to stop within the first ten minutes," she teases lightly.

I raise an eyebrow, flashing her a grin. "You think so?"

"Oh, I know so."

I can feel the sweat beading up on my forehead as I fumble through the game, my face burning with embarrassment. It's not that I'm losing the game—hell, I'm actually doing pretty okay at the mini-games, which is a low bar to clear—but the dating simulator part? That's where things go downhill fast.

I don't even know why I'm so invested, but every time a character makes some ridiculous, drawn-out kissy noise or lets out a suggestive moan, my skin flushes a little hotter. The speakers in this place are way too nice, and every sound is crystal clear, practically echoing through the room.

And then there's Jules, sitting next to me, looking too comfortable for my liking. She'd changed into one of my oversized T-shirts and a pair of my basketball shorts, the fabric falling just right over her legs. She looks casually sexy, her hair still a little messy from last night, but she's so damn easy to look at. The way she's leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, her bare feet brushing against the floor, only adds to the ridiculous tension in the room. I can't tell if it's the game or her presence that's making me squirm, but either way, I'm about to lose it.

"AAAH EW EW EW STOOOPPP!" I shout, nearly throwing the controller down. My eyes dart around the room, hoping no one's listening, even though it's just Jules and me.

But she's absolutely dying over there. I can hear her cracking up, and it's not even the good kind of laugh. It's the kind where she knows she's got me exactly where she wants me—completely uncomfortable and about to lose my mind.

"Are you seriously that sensitive?" she manages between fits of laughter, holding her stomach like she's about to collapse.

"I—look, this is way too much, okay?" I grumble, trying to hide my face in my hands. "Who thought this was a good idea for a game? This is so cringey!"

She's grinning so wide I'm convinced she might burst a rib. "It's not that bad. It's just a game, Whip."

"Yeah, a game where people make sounds that no one should ever have to hear!" I practically shout, covering my ears, but not before another exaggerated kiss sound plays from the speakers. "GAAAAAAHHHH!" I wince, throwing the controller to the side.

Jules is in hysterics now, her laughter echoing in the space, so contagious that it makes me laugh despite myself. It's wild how easily she does it, how she can take something as ridiculous as this and turn it into the most fun I've had in weeks. I'm still cringing at the sounds coming from the game, but with her, it's easier to laugh at the mess of it all. She's laughing at me. I'm laughing at myself. And for a second, all the tension, the unspoken stuff that's been hanging between us, disappears.

The doorbell rings, cutting through the atmosphere like a sharp note in the middle of a song. I blink, startled, and Jules is too lost in her laughter to hear it.

I glance toward the door, then back at her. She doesn't notice me moving to get up, still focused on the game. I hesitate for a split second, catching her profile, the way her lips are still twitching in that little smirk that's so damn distracting. But the doorbell rings again, more insistent this time, and I know it's the guys.

Killian steps in front when I open the door, his usual cocky grin on his face, and I can already see the glint of that attitude in his eyes. "Well, look who finally woke up from the den. You get your fill of the bar last night?" He raises an eyebrow, and his words are dripping with the kind of smugness I hate.

"Don't start," I try to keep it cool, my voice tight. "Jules is inside. Just... give her some space. She had a rough night."

I'm halfway through the sentence when suddenly, from the living room, the loudest, most dramatic scream cuts through the air.

"WHIP! I GOT A NEW CARD!" Jules' voice rings out, full of triumph and absolute joy, followed by more frantic tapping on the controller.

The guys freeze in place, and I can see Jax's eyes dart toward me, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He lifts an eyebrow. "Rough night, huh?"

"Don't ask," I reply, shaking my head, already knowing the look Jax's about to throw my way.

We all step into the living room, and the second I walk through the door, the sound of slurpy, over-the-top kissy noises floods the air. I freeze, like I've just stepped into some alternate reality.

The screen on the TV shows Jules' character, this overly dramatic anime-style girl, leaning in for a deep kiss with the main guy—whose face is somehow even more perfectly chiseled than I thought was humanly possible. The makeout session is intense, the kind of slow-motion, borderline scandalous type that's almost too much to bear, and definitely too much for my brain to process in this situation.

Rye, naturally, is the first to speak up. "Well, this is... awkward."

I don't even have a chance to react before he adds, voice dripping with sarcasm, "You know, I always knew you two had chemistry, but this?" He gestures toward the screen with a flourish, like he's a movie critic at an awards show. "Jules, I gotta say, you're really pulling out all the stops for your man."

Jules, thankfully, is still oblivious to us walking in—too absorbed in whatever horrific moment she's about to get herself into with this ridiculous game. She doesn't catch the jab at first. But then, her eyes flick over. She sees the whole group watching her.

"Oh, hi, guys. Uh... this isn't what it looks like," she quickly stammers, her face turning bright red, but her nervous laugh is only a few beats too forced to sound believable.

And that's when the kissy, moaning sounds from the TV reach their peak. My hands immediately shoot up to my ears. I swear, I can feel the cringe creeping up my spine as the sound of the characters' smacking lips fills the air, making me physically hunch over like I'm being tortured.

"Uuuggghhh," I groan, twisting my body, trying to escape the noise that's infiltrating my very soul. My hands clutch at my head like I might be physically ill. "Stop! Please!"

I don't even care how ridiculous I look at this point. This shit is too much.

Meanwhile, the rest of the guys are howling with laughter.

"Jesus, Whip," Jax says, his voice filled with an almost sinister delight. "Is this what you're into now? Not even gonna lie, I'm a little concerned."

Rye snickers, clearly enjoying this way too much. "Man, I think Whip's having a personal crisis. Someone get him a drink."

I shoot them all a glare, still hunched over like I'm in physical pain. "I'm gonna kill her," I mutter, just loud enough for Jules to hear, my voice dripping with mock horror. "She knows I hate this stuff."

But Jules is too busy trying to save face, her cheeks still burning bright red as she fumbles with the controller. "Don't forget, you're the one who bought the game," she mutters, hitting buttons on the screen in a panic.

I can't help it. I burst into laughter, even if I'm still physically cringing on the inside. Jules, for her part, rolls her eyes dramatically.

"This game is so dumb," she says, exasperated, tossing the controller onto the coffee table as if it's a hot potato. But I catch the tiny, stubborn smile tugging at her lips, the one she doesn't quite let herself fully enjoy. The one that still says she's having a good time despite the mess we've made of her embarrassing little escape into ridiculousness.

But then she closes herself off again, that wall she's built between us going up like it's second nature. Her smile disappears as she collects her things, trying to act like she's in control. Like she hasn't just spent the last hour letting loose and laughing her ass off.

"Thanks for the... game session," she says, her voice a little more guarded now, like she's trying to put a neat little bow on something she doesn't want to acknowledge. "My ride's here. I'm gonna go."

I open my mouth to protest, but before I can say anything, she's already heading for the door. I watch her go, my chest tightening. She's been like this all day—pulling away, shutting down, and it doesn't sit right with me.

I turn to the guys, my gaze flickering between them. They're all watching me, waiting. Fucking hyenas, the lot of them.

It's Rye who strikes first—of course it is. His shit-eating grin is firmly in place as he leans forward like he's been waiting all damn day to start something. "Glad you and Jules finally stopped wasting time."

I don't react. Not at first. But inside, my gut clenches like a fist. I should've seen this coming. Rye's never been able to keep his mouth shut.

"Don't know what you're talking about," I say casually, but my fingers tighten into fists at my sides.

"Bull-fucking-shit," Rye says, shaking his head. "And that kiss at the tour? Remember that? Don't even try to deny it."

"Friends don't kiss," Scottie adds with an evil glare, like he's just been handed front-row tickets to my humiliation. "Not like that, do they?"

"Nope," Killian says, popping the 'p' as he kicks his feet up on the coffee table. "And I've seen the way she looks at you, man. And the way you look at her?" He whistles low. "Not exactly subtle."

Rye leans over and jabs me in the ribs. Hard. I grunt, shoving him back.

"Fuck off."

"Make me," he taunts, laughing as I shove him again, harder this time. He's bigger than me, but I've got speed on my side, and when he lunges, I duck out of the way, aiming a well-placed elbow into his side.

"Christ," Rye groans, staggering back. "You've been holding out on me. That almost hurt."

"Did it?" I snap. "Want me to make it hurt more?"

"Calm your tits," Killian cuts in, but he's laughing now, too, and before I know it, he's reached over and yanked the back of my shirt, pulling me into the couch. I swing out blindly, clipping him on the arm, and he lets out a mock roar.

"Fuck's sake!" Scottie barks, his voice cutting through the chaos like a whip. "Are you lot children, or do you just act like it?"

"Children," Jax says without missing a beat, and I huff out a laugh despite myself.

Killian finally lets go, and I drop back onto the couch, my chest heaving. Rye flops down next to me, rubbing his ribs like I actually managed to do some damage.

"Seriously, though," Rye says, grinning like the asshole he is. "You're full of shit, man. We all saw it. The way she lights up around you? That wasn't just some 'friendship glow.'"

I groan, dragging a hand down my face. "Can we not do this right now?"

"Why not?" Killian asks, his voice lower now, like he's trying to get serious. "Because, honestly, it seems like there's more going on here than you want to admit..." He trails off, leaving the rest unsaid.

I glance down at the controllers on my table, my grip tightening. "She's holding something back," I admit, the words spilling out before I can stop them. "Every time we talk, it's like... I don't know. Like she's got this wall up. And I can't figure out how to get through."

The room goes quiet. For once, no one's making a joke or trying to poke at me. They're just... listening.

Jax, who's been uncharacteristically quiet, leans forward, his sharp gaze pinning me in place. "What kind of wall?"

"I don't know," I say, my voice raw with frustration. "It's just a feeling. Like she's carrying a secret and she doesn't want me too close."

Jax lets out a low whistle, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's rough, man."

"Yeah," Rye says, his tone softer now. "But you're not exactly subtle, Whip. She knows you care. She's gotta know it."

I don't respond, staring at the ceiling instead.

"She's gotta know something," Rye pushes on. "The question is, are you gonna fucking do anything about it, or just sit here moping like a lovesick idiot?"

That earns him another shove, but it's half-hearted at best.

The words hang in the air, and the guys go quiet for a moment. I can feel the weight of their stares, all of them processing what I just said. But the truth is, I don't know what to do about it. Not yet. She's not the same Jules, and I can't figure out why.

Jax rubs his chin, thoughtfully. "Well, if you need us to help, we're here for you."

"Yeah," Rye chimes in. "We're great at meddling. It's, like, our thing."

I can't help but laugh, shaking my head. "Thanks, guys. Really helpful."

"Anytime, buddy," Rye says, grinning wide. "Anytime."