A gentle voice brushed almost against Song Ying’s ear, hammering at her heart.
Her beautiful eyes widened, and she clenched her skirt tightly in her fists.
Was she drunk? Was Julian Jarvis also drunk?
She looked into his eyes, searching for a trace of intoxication in their depths.
Those narrow, enchanting eyes were clear as ink, staring at her with unwavering seriousness.
She swallowed nervously, her gaze catching on the white fuzzy slippers on the floor. Shaking her head, she finally found her voice again.
Reason and emotion warred wildly inside of her. She craved his tenderness, and yet—he was already someone’s boyfriend. This shouldn’t be happening.
“Julian Jarvis, this isn’t right... You, your girlfriend—”
Song Ying’s voice faltered, and after squeezing the words out, she closed her eyes and exhaled, pretending at calm.
Julian Jarvis followed her gaze to the slippers, understanding immediately. He gave a little smile, then leaned closer still.
This time, his thin lips landed softly on her flushed lips.
“...”
“...”
It was as if time itself froze; that touch on her lips—it was a scene she’d imagined a thousand times, and suddenly, it was real.
She scooted backward, then abruptly shoved at Julian Jarvis. Song Ying, who had been nestled at one end of the sofa, had unwittingly retreated to the very edge as he approached.
With that push, her hand slipped, and she almost tumbled off the sofa, but Julian Jarvis quickly caught her by the waist and pulled her into his arms, toppling over her.
Startled, Song Ying felt a wave of grievance rise within. Just what did Julian Jarvis take her for?
Was it because she liked him, that he thought he could touch and kiss her at will? He had a girlfriend, but what about her?
She lowered her head, frozen, not moving. Julian Jarvis, worried, asked, “Did I scare you?”
“Yingying...?” he called her by her nickname, gently settling her back onto the sofa. Song Ying covered her eyes with both hands, tears seeping through her fingers.
This wasn’t the silent crying she did when suppressing her feelings. She was genuinely heartbroken, sobbing uncontrollably.
She was so tired. Loving someone was so exhausting—especially a silent, never-ending crush.
“Julian Jarvis... is it because I like you that I’m not worth anything anymore?”
She sobbed, her voice broken as she choked out her pain.
“I... Yingying, I don’t have a girlfriend. Didn’t Yao Yao tell you?”
“You know—I’ve never dated anyone, what are you thinking?”
Song Ying uncovered her eyes, looking at him with red-rimmed eyes. “But even if someone was dating, they might not tell the people around them...”
“...Well, I’m telling you now: I’m not seeing anyone. I never have, not then, not now.”
“...”
“But what about you? Are you planning to date Fu Sen? Is that why you want to take your letter back?”
“Song Ying, I’m a little jealous.”
“Can’t you leave the letter here?”
“Date me.”
His slightly upturned, beguiling eyes gazed intently at her, swirling with barely-hidden longing.
Julian Jarvis had never planned—for tonight, or even before tonight—to claim Song Ying as his own. But seeing her in tears, he wanted nothing more than to kiss them away, to keep her from crying ever again.
That time, how long had she cried beneath the stairs? He’d listened from outside, unmoving, for just as long. What he’d thought was a barely-there, forgotten feeling—turned out, it hadn’t faded after all, only hidden away.
But now that thread had come loose, and everything unraveled, surging back anew.
“Song Ying, will you be my girlfriend?”
He asked again, even more earnestly. “Is there still a place for me in your heart? Can I move in?”
His breath brushed warmly and softly across her cheek, humid and gentle.
Song Ying forgot to cry. She bit her porcelain-white lips, unable to utter a single word.
Julian Jarvis reached out, lightly tracing her face. “Will it take you a long time to decide?”
“Julian Jarvis, you’ve always lived here...”
She pressed a trembling hand to her chest; then, sitting up, she cupped his face in both hands and kissed him.
Tears fell, splashing like tiny droplets onto Julian Jarvis’s cheek, as if they could burn him.
He let her do as she pleased, only guiding her gently by the waist.
This kiss was filled with bitterness and hurt, bearing all the unspoken love, grievances, and endless waiting she’d held in for years.
At last, Julian Jarvis could stand it no longer; he pulled her into his arms and laid her on the wide sofa.
The cool leather seeped through her dress, sending a faint shiver through her.
Julian Jarvis grabbed a blanket and tucked it beneath her, then rained possessive, hungry kisses along her lips.
He claimed her mouth again and again, then trailed kisses to the tip of her nose and her brows.
His hand at her waist tightened, possessive as a meteor plunging into the dark sea, an unstoppable heat swelling between them.
Her pale dress clung to his black suit pants, as if sparks might leap from their touch.
His breathing deepened; Julian Jarvis forced himself to regain control, his grip on Song Ying’s shoulders tensing, then relaxing.
At last, the passionate kisses gentled, tracing comfort along the corners of her mouth.
Song Ying trembled, clutching his shirt as if she were a delicate flower battered by a fierce wind, her whole body quaking in fear.
Julian Jarvis buried his face against her shoulder, his burning lips at her collarbone, fingers sliding down to grip her wrist, barely holding back the desire burning in his eyes.
He didn’t want things to go any further, not when she’d been drinking, not tonight, when they were both so out of control.
Song Ying opened her eyes slowly. With him so close, she could feel everything he felt. Her lips trembled. In a tiny voice, she asked, “Julian Jarvis, do you... want to?”
A low laugh rumbled at her neck. Julian Jarvis shook his head. “I do want to, but not now.”
“Wait until you’re sober, and you’ve truly thought it through.”
He exhaled, looking down at her, gaze soft as his eyes skimmed her tear-reddened lashes.
It seemed like when he kissed her, he finally understood the weight of Song Ying’s years of feelings. Yet she’d never once disturbed his life.
To silently love someone alone—how hard that must be.
He knew Song Ying was proud, stubborn deep down.
“Song Ying... I’ve been so selfish.”
She blinked, looking away, still rattled by the sudden intimacy. “No, liking someone... has always been a one-person thing.”
Julian Jarvis turned her face back to his, their foreheads touching as he nuzzled her gently.
“It’s all right. From now on, it’s about us.”
Song Ying’s cheeks flushed hot. She coughed, trying to cover her shyness. “But... we haven’t spent time together in so long. Maybe you’re not even the person I used to like anymore.”
...
Julian Jarvis couldn’t help but burst out laughing, his whole body shaking as he nearly collapsed atop her. Song Ying, usually so calm and rational, was rarely so unreasonable.
“Mm, then take your time to consider.”
“That’s why I won’t touch you—until you’re sure.”
“And give me some time too—I need to get to know your current self, Dr. Song. Though it seems you’re still quite the crybaby.”
“So the mature, unflappable image is all just an act?”
...
Song Ying had no retort. “You’ve really gotten worse than before.”
Feeling the evidence of his restraint fade, Song Ying turned away, her burning face buried toward the inside of the sofa. Everything said and done tonight made her feel like she might spontaneously combust.
Nothing about tonight had gone as expected...
Julian Jarvis wrapped his arms around her from behind. “I won’t touch you, but I am sleeping here.”
The sofa was wide enough for both of them to lie down, but that meant they were pressed close, shoulder to shoulder.
“Julian Jarvis... you, I haven’t washed my face.”
“It’s fine. I’m not that picky.”
“...Well, I am.”
...
Neither of them had changed or washed up. With a resigned sigh, Julian Jarvis pulled her up, taking her hand as they headed to the bathroom together.