Chapter 23: Embrace
The old apartment building had terrible soundproofing. Even from his room, Julian could hear the faint, steady patter of water. He wasn't letting his mind wander into anything filthy, but the sound made it impossible to settle. Every drop reminded him that a woman five years older than him was showering right there in the bathroom.
The feeling was even stronger than the times Margaret had come over to tutor him.
Julian finished making the bed and sat against the headboard. Messages kept lighting up his phone. The Discord server with a few online buddies had been deep in a heated anime discussion, but it had suddenly swerved into explicit sexual territory.
A bunch of strangers hiding behind screens were trading crude jokes and getting way too excited, no filters at all. Some even roasted each other for having "perfect theory scores" while admitting they'd never actually done anything. Julian closed the app and opened the novel he'd only read a few chapters of, hoping it would pull his focus away.
The story was good enough to lose himself in. The distracting rush of water slowly faded. He was deep into the plot when the soft click of the door latch snapped him back.
Isabella stood in the doorway, the pink bunny pajamas clinging perfectly to her tall, slender-yet-curvy figure. The mature almond-shaped face was flushed from the heat of the shower, giving her an unexpectedly cute, almost delicate look.
She had the blue towel wrapped around her hair, a few loose wet strands framing her face and dripping onto her shoulders. The loose collar of the pajamas gaped just enough to reveal the elegant line of her collarbones, her skin pale and flawless.
"Do you have a hair dryer here?"
"It's broken. I always just let mine air-dry." Julian felt a flicker of embarrassment, eyeing the long waterfall of her hair. It would take forever to dry on its own. "You can use my towel if you want. Mine's still dry—the green one on the shelf."
"Is that… really okay?"
"It's fine. I don't mind." He kept his voice steady. Truth was, aside from the bath mat, there wasn't a third towel in the whole apartment.
"Alright. Thanks, Jules."
Isabella smiled warmly and stepped back out.
Julian waited a few minutes, then peeled off his socks, climbed out of bed, and headed to the bathroom to wash his face and feet.
The steamy air still hung heavy. Thin threads of rose scent lingered everywhere. He reached the sink and noticed the plastic basin on the counter holding a black lace bra and a pair of women's panties, the rest of her clothes folded underneath.
The crude lines from the Discord chat flashed through his head uninvited. His reflection in the mirror flushed bright red instantly, the embarrassment blooming hot and fast inside him.
He turned away quickly, refusing to look. He soaked the towel in cold water again and scrubbed it across his face until the chill dragged him back to reality. Then he spotted a single long, fine strand of hair caught in the fabric.
Julian plucked it free and let the water rinse it away. After finishing with his feet, he returned to his room. Isabella was standing beside the bed, holding his phone.
"Your phone wouldn't stop buzzing, so I picked up. It was a girl." Isabella turned and handed it back, her smile perfectly composed. "She had such a pretty voice. I bet she's gorgeous in person."
Julian glanced at the contact. "Yeah. She's really nice."
"So… what exactly is she to you, Jules?"
Isabella's eyes narrowed just a fraction, the corners lifting with a smile that didn't quite reach the colder depths beneath. Restless tension coiled under her calm surface. She stepped closer, gaze locking onto his with no room for escape, reading every tiny shift in his expression.
"A classmate. And a friend. She's helped me out a lot."
"Do you like her, Jules?"
"I've never thought of her that way." Julian answered evenly. He truly hadn't. Hannah came from a solid family, was beautiful, and aced every class. She was completely out of reach for someone like him who lived in the shadows. Friendship was already the deepest connection he could realistically hope for.
"I see."
Isabella was standing very close now—close enough that she was actually a little taller. If he lowered his head even slightly, he could see the soft, full curve of her breasts inside the loose pajama top.
Then she pulled him into her arms. Her hands slid around his neck, pressing her warm, snow-soft body flush against his chest. Her cheek settled into the hollow of his neck. The familiar, seductive rose scent wrapped around him completely.
"Good night, Jules. Your sister is really happy today."
Julian stood frozen, completely thrown. The body against him was soft and warm and far too close. It was as if she still saw him as that innocent little boy who didn't understand boundaries yet.
Maybe the excitement of seeing each other again after so long made it understandable. But he still needed to say something.
"Isabella… I'm seventeen now." He tried carefully to ease out of her hold, only to realize how tightly she was gripping him.
"I'm sorry, Jules. Your sister is still used to the little boy you used to be. You always loved when I hugged you back then."
"I… just not in front of other people, okay? You're a girl. It doesn't look right."
"Alright, alright. Your sister understands. But right now… let me hold you just a little longer."
Isabella's voice stayed gentle and affectionate. In the shadows where he couldn't see, her eyes were ice-cold and utterly unyielding.
To her, his body still felt small and delicate—lean lines, soft edges, nowhere near strong enough to resist. Controlling him would be effortless.
The embrace lasted more than a minute before Isabella finally released him and left the room.
That night Julian slept deeply for the first time in ages. Having another person in the apartment somehow chased away the hollow chill that usually filled the empty space. All those lonely nights ended right there. He drifted off peacefully.
He dreamed of the days when the sycamore tree outside the window had been full and green. Bright sunlight streamed across a delicate, porcelain-pale face. The big sister in the white cotton dress played games with him, helped him with homework, and always kept him for dinner.
The little boy back then had been completely innocent. He didn't understand the difference between boys and girls. He simply followed her everywhere, liking her in the purest way possible. She was prettier than any girl at school, smarter than anyone, and seemed able to do anything.
Once, after he'd fought with his father—the tired, middle-aged man who worked himself ragged to keep their home together—Julian had stormed out in a rage and burst into Isabella's apartment. His dad had stood there looking helpless while the boy clung to her waist, asking her to talk some sense into the stubborn child.
Isabella had smiled and agreed. That night she let him sleep in her bed, holding the small boy close and whispering softly that he needed to listen—to his sister and to his father both.
That hug had felt so warm, carrying a faint, clean scent. Little Julian had nodded without thinking, curling deeper into her arms, and slept better than he ever had before.
The next morning he swallowed his pride and apologized to his dad. Even now, Julian knew he owed Isabella for that. Without her, the guilt might have haunted him forever.
The night grew deeper. A soft knock sounded at the bedroom door. Julian, lost in heavy sleep, didn't hear it and didn't stir when his name was whispered.
The door eased open. A slender shadow slipped inside and stopped beside the bed. She watched him lying on his side, breathing slow and even, then leaned down to study his sleeping face.
Soft lips brushed his cheek in the lightest kiss.
"Good night, Jules," she murmured, then turned and left, closing the door silently behind her.