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Alive At Night: Chapter 7

julian

LATE NIGHTS WITH JUNIPER St. James were not a new concept.

From the minute Gemma introduced us, Juniper and I communicated in various forms of insults. I didn’t like her always being there, squeezing her way into our already overcrowded house. And she didn’t like…well, me. I never took the time to figure out why Juniper didn’t like me because the feeling was mutual. The why didn’t matter.

Deeper irritation didn’t start until later in high school, though. Mostly because I liked my sleep. And Juniper liked being the reason for me not getting it. She had a bad habit of barging into my room at all hours of the night. Even after years of sleeping over at our house, she never learned how to correctly count the goddamn doors in the hallway. She also had a bad habit of winding up in unbelievable predicaments. Like when she and Gemma wound up stranded and naked on Lock Island.

Christ, that night.

Juniper’s flat tire might have been easy to change and relatively easy to patch, but I’d still had to stay up until three in the morning to do it. The last thing I’d needed was for her to have an excuse to still be at my house when I returned from football practice the next morning.

Hell, that was the shittiest practice I ever ran. I was nearly an hour late from being so goddamn exhausted, and it hadn’t exactly been a good look, not when there had already been people saying that Greg fucking Kennedy should have been captain over me.

Tonight was just another one of those nights—the ones where Juniper kept me from getting enough sleep. I was in bed by a little past midnight, but annoyingly, I couldn’t get comfortable. Noah had already texted me like five times since I made it back to my apartment.

Okay, fine. It was once so far. But the words kept repeating in my head, making it feel like more.

LONDON: Juniper single?

This was why it hadn’t been necessary for us to go to the game. Besides almost throat-punching that guy after he said shit to Juniper in the street, I’d had fun. Grayson and Noah both scored, and Juniper was surprisingly nice enough not to interrupt my concentration on the game. But the Noah-Juniper meet and greet didn’t need to happen.

Noah was a straight shooter, as evidenced by his text. I was positive he would have just texted her himself…if he had her phone number.

Yeah

LONDON: Number?

Some people have regular jobs they have to get up for in the morning, Noah

LONDON: If you don’t want to give it to me, that’s fine. I’d also take your sister’s.

I didn’t have to ask which one. I knew it was Gemma. He’d hinted at it more than once after she visited our senior year in college.

I punched my screen with my fingers as I typed a response, feeling exhausted and irritated.

Fuck off. You might be in the pros, but I can still kick your ass.

This was the exact reason I’d hesitated when it came to setting Noah up with Juniper. He was a good guy with a good heart, but damn if he wasn’t still a player. Noah and I lived on different planets. Every time I talked to him, he sounded like he was still in his college party era while I was firmly in my work-eat-sleep-repeat era.

LONDON: You think so, huh?

Yeah

Maybe if I gave him one-word answers, he would get the picture that I was trying to get some rest. I should have known sleeping tonight was a useless effort, considering Juniper was involved.

LONDON: Enough to bet on it?

LONDON: I’ll make it easy. All you have to do if I win is hand over the numbers.

No deal, no numbers

LONDON: Maybe I misunderstood at the game, then.

What do you mean?

LONDON: You made it seem like you weren’t interested in her.

JULIAN: I’m not.

LONDON: …

I sighed into my pillow. Truth was, when he’d asked at the game if the jersey was mine and then trailed his gaze over Juniper appreciatively, I’d fought the urge to tighten my hold on her. I didn’t like how Noah looked at her. That jersey she wore tonight might have had his name on it, but it was from my closet.

I’m not giving you her number without her permission

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I recognized that Juniper would undoubtedly give permission. After worrying over what to say to him—which was weirdly un-Juni-like—she’d probably love it if he texted her first.

Not to mention, I hadn’t precisely asked Noah’s permission before handing over his number. But this wasn’t the first time a girl had asked for Noah’s digits. When I was living at home after college, everyone seemed to know—likely from my bigmouthed sisters—that I was friends with Noah London, the newly drafted New England quarterback. I couldn’t go out for a goddamn drink without a girl, usually one I went to high school with, approaching me to ask for Noah’s number.

When I told him about it once, he flashed a smile.

“Eh, give it to them,” he’d said.

LONDON: Oh, why didn’t you just say that? That’s fine, man.

I’ll talk to her. Night, London.

Unfortunately, talking to Juniper was a given these days. More than likely, I would walk into the office tomorrow, and she’d bombard me with talk of Noah. But I’d deal with that tomorrow.

For now…sleep.


Juniper was arranging a tray of muffins when I walked into our office the following day.

“Let me guess,” I grumbled, “Cameron told you that he was a big fan of the Mighty Muffin or something.”

“No.” Juniper scoffed like it was absolutely ridiculous of me to suggest that. “This is my favorite bakery.”

“Dirty Desserts?”

“What? No.”

“Naughty Kneads?”

“Julian.”

“Creative Cream Pies?”

“Oh my God. It’s just called Georgia’s Bakery,” she huffed. “Grow up, Julian.”

“You’re the one who keeps buying breakfast foods as a way to flirt with someone.” I threw my stuff on my chair. “By the way, can you stop flirting with my friends? It’s getting annoying.”

“Oh!” Juniper jumped a little. “That reminds me. I’ve been talking to Noah all morning.”

A knot formed in my stomach as she grabbed her phone, intent on showing me the evidence. But I couldn’t care any fucking less about what she and Noah had been talking about.

“What do you mean all morning?” I glanced at my watch. “It’s eight o’clock.”

I’d been awake for less than an hour.

“Not everyone rolls out of bed at the last minute, Julian.”

Sighing, I dropped into my chair and pulled out my laptop. “I don’t know why they don’t.”

“It’s called productivity,” Juniper chirped, now staring down at her phone as she scrolled through what I assumed were messages with Noah. “Have you heard of it?”

“Have you?” I gave her a pointed look. Which, of course, she didn’t see because she wasn’t paying me any actual attention. “It’s business hours, and you are astonishingly off task.”

Juniper’s eyes found mine as she swiped a curl out of her face to glare properly. “You just walked in the door, and I’ve been here for a half hour already. So I don’t think you’re really one to talk.”

She never fucking gave it up, did she? Never had, either.

Shaking my head, I focused on my computer. Maybe I didn’t come in early or bring in food and drinks to kiss ass, but when I was at work, I got shit done.

Except it was pretty hard to do that when Juniper’s phone went off every three minutes. I considered texting Noah about giving it a goddamn rest, but bugging Juniper was more accessible.

“You’re going to have to put that on silent, Daisy.”

“I’m telling him I can’t talk anymore,” she said, not even looking up from her phone. Rude, if you ask me. Her peach nails kept tap-tap-tapping. “I have a lot to get done today.”

I watched her text Noah for a second before letting my curiosity get the best of me. “So you actually figured out what to say to him, huh?”

Juniper put her phone on the desk and focused on me. Finally. “Well, it was easy after last night. I just texted him this morning and told him it was nice to meet him and he played a great game.”

Yeah, that’d do it. Noah loved any chance to get a fucking compliment. I was sure he was all over that.

I nodded, shoving down the odd itch to ask more. Hopefully, Noah wasn’t acting too forward. He tended to do that, and Juniper had said she wanted the date to be fake. Considering Noah’s interest last night, I hoped she led with that.

Maybe I should check.

“You told him that you want a fake date, right?”

She gave me a funny look. “Why?”

Didn’t want him to get any ideas, that was all.

“Just making sure everyone is on the same page.”

“I’m being very straightforward.” Juniper crossed her arms over her chest, clearly affronted. “Don’t worry. I can handle it.”

“You do remember yesterday, right?”

Her implication that she didn’t need my help was awfully annoying, considering how she’d begged for it less than twenty-four hours ago. I was starting to regret the hell out of introducing Juniper and Noah.

With a huff of annoyance that I very much felt, Juniper spun around to face her desk. Luckily, I didn’t hear her phone ring for the rest of the morning, and I could get some case notes done before I met with Daphne. When I returned to our office after grabbing lunch with Cameron, I found Juniper in the same place I’d left her.

“So, can we start next week?” I asked, leaning against the doorframe. It felt good to stretch my legs.

Juniper swiveled in her desk chair and blinked at me, her long lashes fanning up and down as her brows drew together. All doe-eyed and confused, I didn’t recognize her for a second. There was an innocence there that surprised me. She slowly crossed her legs while thinking, which was a miracle in and of itself, considering how tight that skirt was. Christ, Juniper.

I cleared my throat, urging her to answer.

“Start what?”

“Looking at my case,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets with irritation. Of course she’d forgotten. Now that she had what she wanted from our deal, she probably—

“Oh, of course.” Her sharp features returned as she nodded. “Do you want to meet after work? I’m free to stay late on Wednesday. I have plans with Gemma on—”

“Sure.”

I just wanted to get this deal over with.

Noah could return to being my friend and only my friend, and Grayson could get some case-winning legal advice.

Fingers crossed that we could quickly determine an approach to his malpractice lawsuit. Working in the same room as Juniper was one thing, but working overtime and on the same case as her was another.

Fuck, this had to be a bad idea.

But we were doing it anyway.


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