Sinful Desires 4(5)

Julien brought the plates over to the table while I carried two glasses of water. Other than what was left of last night's wine, water was all we had to drink. He didn't complain though and we ate in companionable silence for several minutes. The food settled well and Julien was a much better cook than I would've thought a rich kid would be, especially after I remembered how Brock had joked on our first date about barely knowing how to shop for himself.

“Can I ask you something?” Julien broke the silence. “And please feel free to tell me to go to hell if I'm out of line.”

After everything he'd heard last night, I wasn't entirely sure what was left for him to ask. I nodded. “I'll do that.”

“Did you and Reed date when you were at St. George's?”

I nearly choked on my bacon. “You think Reed Stirling would've dated me? A scholarship kid from the wrong side of the tracks?” I laughed.

Julien's expression remained serious. “I think I saw something between the two of you last night that said you have a history.” He leaned back in his chair and raised his hands. “Like I said, tell me to go to hell if I'm out of line.”

I was quiet for a moment, debating whether or not I wanted to talk about what had happened. Anastascia was the only other person who knew about Reed, but after last night, she was back to not knowing the whole story. Julien knew the end. The question I had to ask myself was if I wanted to tell him the beginning.

I decided on a compromise. “Reed and I never dated, but we hooked up twice.” I looked down at what was left of my scrambled eggs. “I'm the one who ended it.”

“And he never got over that.”

I shrugged. I wasn't going to out-and-out lie, but if Julien wanted to infer that this hook-up had taken place years ago, I wasn't going to correct him either.

“Did Brock know about it?”

“Not exactly,” I said. “He knew there was something there, kind of like you did.”

Julien hesitated; like there was a question he wasn't sure he should ask.

“Go ahead,” I prompted him. “I won't answer if it bugs me.”

“Did he really offer you ten thousand dollars to go to Reed's wedding with him?”

I pressed my lips together as heat rose in my cheeks. I briefly considered not telling him or lying. In the end, I settled for another half-truth. “He paid for my plane ticket, hotel room and dress. The note said he'd give me ten thousand dollars, but I assumed he was joking. Since he never gave it to me, I figured that was the case.”

I wondered if Julien could tell I wasn't being entirely honest. If he could, he didn't say anything. He ate the last of the bacon off of his plate and then stood. “So what are you going to do?”

I blinked. “About what?”

He picked up my plate and flashed a grin at me. “About the dance grant. I'm guessing since you aren't walking around all smiles, you're still deciding if you should accept it or not.”

My eyebrows went up. “You're way more observant than I gave you credit for.”

His smile widened as he carried our plates to the sink. “That's the advantage to having a reputation like mine. Most people assume I'm a screw-up, and therefore stupid.”

“I never thought that,” I countered as I joined him at the sink.

“I'll wash, you dry,” he offered. When I gave him a surprised look, he laughed. “Worked my way across Europe, remember?”

I nodded and pulled the dish soap from under the sink.

“Anyway,” he continued. “The dance studio, that's back in Philadelphia, isn't it?”

I sighed. “It is.”

“And the way you were talking before, it sounded like you hadn't really wanted to go back.”

I shook my head. He really was observant.

“Is the grant something you want?”

I considered the question before answering right away. I was younger than Julien, but I wasn't a kid anymore. If I had dreams, they couldn't be the fantasies of a child. I knew I loved to dance, but did I really want to go to school for it? I was twenty-three, and for a dancer, that was almost too old for where I was. If I didn't take this now, I wouldn't have another chance. There was no probably or maybe about it. This was it.

“I want it,” I admitted and my heart squeezed at the possibility. “All I've ever wanted to be is a dancer.” I looked around the apartment. “And this isn't what I had in mind.”

If I took the offer, I could leave this place, quit my job. I wouldn't have to strip anymore. Granted, it meant I was going back to a place with a lot of painful memories and I'd have to find a new job there, but I'd be pursuing my passion and not taking off my clothes for creepy old guys and leering twenty-somethings.