Chapter 39: Terms of Endearment
The Road was a visceral, haunting book—a stripped-back chronicle of survival that followed a father and son through a gray, ash-covered world where every step was a fight against starvation and despair. Every page laid bare the fragility of hope and the heavy, silent burden of a man trying to protect the only thing he had left in a world that had already ended.
Julian Hayes couldn't fully put himself in the father's place. They lived in different worlds, separated by the collapse of everything recognizable. Still, the story was a relentless march toward an inevitable end, and that stark, cold landscape pulled Julian's thoughts straight toward his own future. He had already lost the foundations he used to lean on. He didn't dare hope the people around him now would walk through the ashes all the way to the finish line. Decades from now, when the world felt just as cold and empty, he wasn't sure he wouldn't end up exactly like that man—carrying a guttering flame, entirely alone.
He didn't want to keep reading. Julian closed the book with a soft snap and glanced across the small table at Hannah Reeves. She sat with one elbow planted on the wood, chin resting in her palm, looking every bit the bored overlord lazily watching some trivial drama play out beneath her. Her expression was serious, but the lazy tilt of her head gave her away.
After middle school, Margaret Monroe had been the first girl Julian met, yet Hannah was the one he'd actually gotten close to first. Their desks sat near each other, and her bright, outgoing personality made conversation easy. She was the kind of person who could chat about anything and nothing, and he had come to think of her as a real friend—maybe even closer than Vincent Torres, his desk mate. Even though her face was striking enough to rival Margaret's and her figure, even bundled in thick winter layers, curved in ways that turned heads, Julian's feelings toward her had always stayed clean and uncomplicated.
"Julian, you're so impatient," Hannah said, shooting him a playful glance. "Can't even finish the book?"
"We already read enough in school to last a lifetime. Keep going and I'll start casing the bank across the street."
She laughed under her breath. "What do you usually do on weekends, then?"
"Work."
"Oh, right. Almost forgot you actually have to earn money." Hannah sighed, lifting her gaze to study him with open teasing. "Ever think about latching onto a rich older woman? Those wealthy ladies would eat up a good-looking, well-behaved guy like you. Then again, with that slim build of yours, you'd probably get crushed under all the attention."
Julian considered it for a second, then asked with shameless honesty, "Why not a rich, beautiful young woman?"
"Wouldn't a rich beauty still drain you dry? And even if one existed, you'd still be hung up on your precious Margaret, right?"
"I like Margaret, and she—" Julian's voice cracked with sudden panic. The next second he realized how obvious the slip had been and dropped his tone. "I've said I don't like Margaret, haven't I?"
"Who do you think is as clueless as you? If you don't like Margaret, does that mean you like me?"
"Definitely not."
Hannah stood up and gave him a light rap on the head, not hard enough to hurt but sharp enough to sting. She planted her hands on her hips and glared, her pretty brows drawn together in mock displeasure. "Answer so fast? This lady is that unlikable to you?"
"No, no—Boss Hannah, you've got it all wrong. I just—"
His words caught. He took her in properly now: standing across the table with her hands on her hips, cheeks flushed a delicate pink, skin smooth and pale as fresh snow. Even beneath the heavy sweater, her figure was unmistakably feminine, the gentle rise of her chest anything but childish. She was the complete package—beautiful, lively, accomplished. Julian wasn't blind; he felt the normal flicker of attraction any guy would. But that was all it ever was. Just friends.
"Just what?" Hannah pressed, eyes narrowing with feigned resentment. "Just that your heart only has room for your Margaret, the school beauty?"
"I… I didn't put it that strongly."
"Actually, I wasn't completely sure before. But that little reaction just now told me everything." She leaned in slightly, voice dropping. "So when are you planning to confess?"
"Forget it." Julian lowered his gaze, the misty helplessness in his eyes impossible to hide. "No confession. We'll all split up for college anyway."
He had never even considered long-distance. He simply didn't believe he had anything bright or impressive enough to keep someone like Margaret interested once they left Riverside High School behind.
Hannah had no intention of encouraging the oblivious boy. Using little tricks to test how he felt about another girl had already left a sour taste in her mouth. Getting a clear confirmation only made the sting sharper. She wasn't generous enough to play matchmaker for the guy she liked and some other girl.
"Why do you call me 'boss,' anyway?" she asked, the change of subject a little too abrupt.
Julian let her steer the conversation away from the heavy mood. "Because I used to call you class president, but that doesn't fit anymore. Using your full name feels too formal. And I figured if you were in the mafia, you'd definitely run the show—so it just stuck."
"I'm not in the mafia, and even if I were, I wouldn't recruit an idiot like you as my little brother." She reached over and poked his forehead, scolding him with clear dissatisfaction.
"So what should I call you? Or maybe next time they hold class-president elections you could actually try?"
"No thanks. I'd be wiped out every single day—I don't want that job." Hannah's smile turned mischievous. "If you're looking for something different… how about you call me 'Hannie'?"
"Is that really okay? I'd rather just use your name—Hannah."
"You literally just said my name felt too distant, and now you won't even try 'Hannie.'" Her voice shifted into a dramatic, pitiful tone, eyes going wide and watery in an exaggerated display of helplessness. Her playful side was on full display. "Fine. Go run off to your perfect Margaret Monroe."
"But only if Margaret even wants me—wait, what kind of ridiculous script is this?" Julian rubbed the back of his neck. "If anyone else heard me calling you that, it would sound completely wrong."
"So in private you'd be willing?"
"…It still feels too embarrassing to say out loud."
Hannah waved a hand, dropping the whole idea with a theatrical sigh. "All right, all right. Keep calling me boss, then." She paused, tilting her head. "But can I use a pet name for you? Like… little Jules?"
"Don't. Isabella already calls me Jules like that. It'd be way too weird if you started doing it too."
"Ohhh, one minute it's Margaret, the next it's Isabella." Hannah's eyes sparkled with exaggerated shock. "Julian Hayes, you really do play favorites with other girls! So many of us around you—are you trying to build yourself a whole harem, Your Highness?"
Julian pulled a face, struggling to keep up with her rapid jumps in topic. He explained earnestly, "I just see Isabella as my big sister. She's known me longer, that's all. How does that turn into a harem?"
He thought for a second, then added with the same light tone, "If being close to me automatically means someone likes me, then Boss Hannah, you're part of the group too. Should I give you a fancy title?"
"Forget it. You don't even have the guts to confess to one girl and you're talking about harems."
"Yeah… that's true."
Julian's quiet agreement came easily. The relaxed back-and-forth made even the ache of unrequited feelings feel lighter, almost manageable. He checked the time on his phone. It was already noon, and his stomach was starting to complain.
"Want to grab something to eat?" Hannah closed her own book and spoke first. "You came with me to the bookstore, so boss is treating as payment."
"You don't have to… I came because I wanted to."
"Little subordinate, don't you know you're supposed to listen to your boss?" She tapped the book gently against the top of his head.
"All right, all right. I'll mooch off you this once."
Julian picked up the scarf he had set aside earlier and looped it back around his neck. Hannah paid for "The Road" by Cormac McCarthy at the register, then the two of them stepped out of the bookstore together into the crisp midday air.