Pov: Jules
I woke up with a pounding headache, my mouth parched and dry as if I had swallowed a desert. The faint hum of the heater drilled relentlessly into my skull, and the sunlight streaming through the blinds was almost cruel in its brightness. Groaning, I pulled the blanket over my head, hoping to find solace in the darkness.
The world, of course, had no intention of letting me off that easily.
Sitting up felt like an Olympian effort. Every movement sent waves of pain crashing through my head, and fragmented memories of the previous nightâsnippets of laughter, clinking glasses, and perhaps a little too much punchâflickered in my mind like poorly edited scenes from a film.
My shoes were flung in opposite corners of the room, and my jacket hung precariously over the back of my chair. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed my suspicion: mascara smeared under my eyes made me look like a raccoon after a bad night out. Perfect.
"Sleeping Beauty finally rises," Nathan's voice cut through the haze.
I groaned and fell forward, burying my face in the blanket. "Shut up," I muttered, my voice muffled and far from threatening.
Nathan, predictably, wasn't fazed. "Nice hair. Didn't know birds could nest that high."
"Shut. Up." My cheeks flushed as I attempted a glare, catching a glimpse of my disheveled reflection again. Great. Just great.
Nathan smirked, leaning lazily against his desk. "By the way, nice moves last night. The chair didn't see you coming."
The memory of stumbling into a chair, laughter ringing outâwas it mine or someone else's?ârushed back. I froze mid-step, horror creeping up my spine. "I hate you."
"Fair," he replied, clearly enjoying himself.
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In the bathroom, I stared at my reflection, trying to piece together the rest of the night. Thank God there were no mortifying texts, but that didn't stop the uneasy feeling gnawing at my stomach.
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When I returned, Nathan handed me a mug of coffee. "Careful. It's hot."
"Thanks," I mumbled, taking a sip. The liquid scalded my tongue, and I yelped, nearly dropping the mug.
Nathan raised an eyebrow. "What did I just say?"
"I was trying to wake up," I snapped, blowing on the coffee while avoiding his smug expression.
"You're really not winning any grace points today," he observed, leaning back in his chair.
As if that wasn't bad enough, Nathan casually added, "Oh, and thanks for the compliment last night."
I blinked, confused. "What?"
"You called me handsome." His smirk widened as he finally met my gaze. "But don't worry. I won't let it go to my head."
"I didn'tâthat's notâ" Words failed me as my face turned crimson. "You misheard!"
"Sure," he said, sipping his tea with exaggerated nonchalance. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
Groaning, I buried my face in my hands. This was shaping up to be a spectacularly long day.
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By the time I made it to the cafeteria, I desperately craved a moment of peace. Instead, Finn greeted me with an exaggerated bow. "And here comes the life of the party!"
"Please stop," I muttered, heading straight for the coffee station.
Finn trailed after me, grinning. "Your commentary last night? Top tier. You should host a talk show."
"Can everyone just forget I exist for five minutes?"
"Not a chance," Nathan said, appearing with a tray of food as if on cue.
As we sat down, Harper joined us, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "So, Jules, do you usually miss it when people flirt with you, or was that just a party thing?"
I choked on my coffee. "What?"
Harper smirked. "The guy with the blue shirt? He was practically swooning, and you just... walked away."
"I..." My words faltered as my face turned an alarming shade of red.
Finn looked far too amused. "Missed opportunities. Tragic."
As if the day couldn't get worse, Harper brought up Parents' Day. "Ugh, can you believe they expect us to pretend like everything's fine for an entire day?"
"Speak for yourself," Finn chimed in. "My mom treats it like a holiday. She's probably already planning embarrassing stories to tell my teachers."
I tensed, staring into my coffee. When Harper asked if my parents were coming, I forced a casual shrug. "Probably not. They're busy... work stuff."
Nathan's gaze flicked to me, his usual sarcasm absent. "It's overrated anyway. A bunch of parents pretending they understand what we actually do here."
Grateful for the distraction, I nodded but couldn't shake the weight settling in my chest. Excusing myself, I headed outside for air.
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The bench was still damp from the storm, but I sat anyway, the cold seeping through my jeans. My cigarette glowed faintly in the cool morning air as I took a shaky inhale. The burn in my lungs didn't help much, but it gave me something to focus on other than the tightness in my chest.
Footsteps crunched on the gravel path behind me. Turning, I saw Nathan approaching, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. He stopped a few feet away, hesitating for a moment before dropping onto the other end of the bench. He leaned back, resting his arms along the top and tilting his head to stare at the overcast sky.
"Figured you'd be here," he said casually.
"Just needed a break," I muttered, exhaling a thin stream of smoke.
"From them or yourself?"
I huffed a laugh, though there was no humor in it. "What's the fucking difference?"
Nathan didn't respond immediately. The silence stretched between us, filled only by the faint rustling of leaves and the distant chatter.
Finally, I spoke, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "Do you ever wonder if... parents even like the kids they have? Or if they just feel stuck with us?"
Nathan turned his head to look at me, his expression unreadable. Embarrassment flared in my chest, and I waved a hand dismissively, letting the cigarette dangle between my fingers. "Sorry. That was dumb. Forget I said anything."
"It's not dumb," he said, his voice quiet but steady. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands loosely. "Parents aren't always what you need them to be. You just learn to live with it."
I studied him cautiously, unsure if he was humoring me or speaking from experience. "Is that what you did?"
He nodded slightly, his gaze fixed on the ground. "My mom's a journalistâalways chasing the next story, the next deadline. My dad's the 'important' one. Builds shit, sells shit. Whatever." He shrugged, his tone laced with dry humor. "They're great at what they do. Just not great at being parents."
I paused mid-drag, the cigarette frozen halfway to my lips. "So, they're just... not around?"
"Pretty much." He straightened, his jaw tightening slightly. "They don't ask much, and I don't tell them much. It works, I guess."
"That sounds... lonely," I said softly, stubbing my cigarette out on the bench. My fingers fidgeted with the hem of my sweater, jittery and restless. There was something about the way Nathan said it, how his jaw tightened, that made me feel like he wasn't telling the whole story. But I wasn't about to pry.
"I guess I should try doing that moreâstop expecting them to show up. But I don't. I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because there's this stupid part of me that still hopes," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "Every time they promise to come, I believe them. And every time they don't, it just... it fucking sucks."
Nathan watched me for a moment, his expression softening in a way I hadn't seen before. "You're not stupid for hoping," he said finally. He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. "It'd be easier if it didn't matter, but... it does."
I smiled faintly, though my eyes felt glassy. "How are you so okay with it? The whole... not caring thing?"
"I'm not. Not really." He leaned back, glancing at me sideways. "I just figured out that the less you expect, the less you get hurt. Doesn't mean it doesn't fucking suck. You just get used to it."
A bitter laugh escaped me, my voice shaky. "So, you're saying I should aim lower. That's inspiring."
Nathan snorted softly. "I should start writing self-help books. 'How to Suck It Up and Move On.' Bestseller material."
The tension between us eased slightly, and I nudged his leg with my foot. "For the record, you're better at this than I thought."
He raised an eyebrow, his smirk reappearing. "What, being your therapist?"
"Exactly." I grinned, the weight on my chest feeling a little lighter. "Sorry for putting this on you."
"Don't worry," he said, smirking faintly. "You'll balance it out with insults soon enough."
For the first time all day, I felt like I could breathe again.
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A/N
Already on chapter 25... WTF?!?!??! It's flying by
What do we think of Nathan and Jules so far in the story?!?!?
Also sorry for not updating for a little while. <3
LOVE YOU ALL SM, DONT FORGET TO VOTE xxx