"Now, darling, hold still."

I'm lying back on Julius' couch on a warm Tuesday evening, waiting patiently with my eyes closed as he rubs the minty green mask into my skin. He leans over to get at a spot on my chin, smacking his gum, and his breath tickles my face. It smells like strawberry. I can almost taste it.

I squirm again. Slim fingers press into my shoulders, pushing me back into the soft upholstery.

"Angela, please stop moving. If this gets in your eye, it's going to sting like a bitch."

I chew at my lip; staying still has never been my strong suit. "Sorry."

I hear him rustling around at the table behind my head for a moment, and then he's pulling my lip gently away from my teeth. His fingers linger on my skin just a moment too long, and before I realize what I'm doing, I'm fidgeting again. My lips are dry. Why are they dry? I dart my tongue out to moisten them and nick his fingertips in the process. Oh, hell. Cue blush. I always blush; it seems like my face is always some variation on the shade "red," which is part of the reason I'm here. My complexion has been a piece of shit lately and I need to fix it. Julius trails his fingers across my jaw line as he pulls his hand away.

Is he doing this just to make me uncomfortable? But when I open my eyes, I'm disappointed to see that his expression is detached and businesslike. Instead of smoldering, staring into my face, his eyes are scanning my skin carefully to make sure every inch is covered. When he's satisfied, he pulls me up gently.

"Okay, you're good. Now, we wait about ten minutes or so, then we can rinse you off." Julius plops himself down beside me and shoves his shoulder into mine. He bats his eyelashes at me and lisps. "Let's snuggle."

I shove him back. "Oh, you."

Now we're back to normal-friendly, stupid antics with some mild flirtation thrown in. I toss my knees over his legs and sprawl out. His right hand, long fingers encrusted with the rings he always wears, finds its way to the crook of my elbow. We're comfortable like this.

I grab his hand. "You're such a damn magpie."

"Mm, I know. But Angela, don't you know that I love to collect pretty things? Why else would I have you on my couch?" He winks saucily at me. I stick my tongue out and he nabs it, catching it between his fingers.

"Plrrngth!"

"Tsk, tsk. Don't you remember what happened the last time you stuck your tongue out at me?" Of course I do, asshole; you grabbed it and wouldn't let go until I'd said your name twenty times, and you laughed so hard, you almost pissed yourself.

Much to my surprise, he lets go of my tongue, choosing instead to rest his hand on the side of my neck. I shiver. Why is he looking at me like that?

The timer in the kitchen goes up and we jump away from each other. I go into the bathroom and wash my face.

"Julius, ow!"

"I'm sorry, pumpkin. But there's just so much crap in your pores. Working on that farm all day is doing terrible things to your skin." Julius, ever the sadist, is in the process of tearing things from my face that never should have been there in the first place.

"Why did I agree to let you do this, again?"

"Because you love me so-o-o much, dear! And because you have that date on Thursday and you want to look extra fetching." He winks at me again, stroking his fingers absently over the now-irritated skin on my cheek. It's not funny this time. Something in his face has changed and I feel like crying.

The whole reason I came over for "beauty night" was to have Julius prep me for my date with Chase. I was so damn excited on the way over, not even thinking about how I was basically using him to get another guy. And now, standing here in Julius' bathroom, I'm not even sure I…

"Hey, what's wrong?" He's wearing that anxious look he gets sometimes when he thinks no one's watching. I recognize it from the other day, when I asked him if he'd help me. Though he smiled brightly as he gave an enthusiastic nod, that look flickered across his face for a millisecond after he'd accepted. Doubt.

When I first met Julius, I was confused-as, I suspect, most people are at first. But we quickly warmed to each other. The reason I like him so much, I think, is because I can tell him anything. He's protective. He's warm. Also, he has a great wardrobe, and I secretly hope that I'll become more than just the dowdy farmer chick when I'm standing next to him, as if the flair can rub off on me and make me special, too. Being friends with Julius is like being favored by the coolest girl and the hottest guy in school all at once-it brings you out of your shell, makes you extraordinary even if you're just one more Plain Jane.

"My face just hurts. I'll be okay, right? It'll go away?" I try for a smile and fail, but he doesn't seem to notice and smiles back.

"Of course, darling. Here, splash some water on your face and let Julius take care of you."

Let Julius take care of you. That's how it's always been, hasn't it? After every late night at the bar, after every little disappointment-hell, even after I've gotten a damn hangnail, Julius has always been there, swooping in to scoop me up and take care of me.

He leads me back to the couch and I'm acutely aware of how warm and strong his hand is on my back. I walk as slowly as possible, wanting to draw this moment out, commit it to beautiful, indelible memory.

Julius takes a seat and pats the cushion next to him, reaching over with his other hand to grab a jar of expensive-looking skin cream. I sit, albeit somewhat uneasily, and look at him.

"Here, this will work better if you're leaning back…" He pats his lap, looking uncertain. "Put your head here."

Now we're venturing into dangerous territory. I lay back, uneasily, far too aware of the rapid, strained rise and fall of my chest as I struggle to breathe. I feel his eyes lock onto my chest for a split second before he busies himself with opening the moisturizer. It seems like he doesn't even want to look at me; unfortunately for him, he has to in order to finish this whole uncomfortable ordeal so I can go home.

Julius dips his fingers into the jar and touches them to my face. The lotion is cold and I yelp, scooting further into his lap instinctively. He snakes an arm around me, holding me still.

"Now, now. Hold still. We need to get the moisture back into your skin-it's the unfortunate side effect of clearing everything out. You're a big girl; surely, you can handle that?" His old teasing tone is back and he smirks at me. He's close, much too close, and I can feel his breath on my face as he murmurs in my ear.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Startled me, is all." Why is it so hard to breathe? I close my eyes as he starts massaging my face, starting with my cheeks. When there's no more lotion left on his fingers, he ghosts them over my nose, my eyelids, my lips. For a long while, we don't move. When I finally open my eyes again and look up at him, he's looking back at me, every bit the deer in the headlights. He has the look of a man who wants to say something but isn't sure how.

And then his lips are on mine and he's kissing me roughly, unapologetically. There is no "Wait," no "Maybe we shouldn't…" No hesitation. In a series of awkward movements, he manages to straddle me, bending slightly at the waist and weaving his fingers through my hair.

I'm going straight to Hell.

I wrap my fingers around the chains dangling from the hips of his pants, the chains that I loved to make fun of before. When he bites my bottom lip and I gasp, I think, I'm going to Hell. When he slides a slender hand up my shirt, I think of sin. Damnation. When I push my tongue into his mouth and he gives a particularly dirty moan, I picture myself being burned at the stake for infidelity. When there are no longer clothes in the way, we are pure and innocent, eternal. When he's finally in and we're as close as two people can physically be, I think of angels and want to devour him. At no point do I give Chase a single thought.

When it's over and he's holding me to his finely muscled torso, there is no "I'm sorry; that was a mistake." There are silent smiles and fingers running through hair and over warm skin. And there is laughter.

"Do we declare Beauty Night a success, then?" Julius smiles lazily at me, rubbing small circles on my back.

"Only if I don't get another blemish for five years or so." I roll over onto my stomach and kick my feet in the air.

"Brat."

"You love it."

"I love you." The moment the words are out of his mouth, he looks shocked and vulnerable. I smile.

"I think we've both always known that. And, you know…"

"I know." It's his turn to smile. I've given him all the answer he needs. Things are so easy with Julius; he makes life simple.

"Hey, I'm free on Thursday, if you're not busy."

"But what about Chase?" He furrows his brow and I rub a hand languidly over his forehead.

"What about him? I'll deal with it tomorrow. And don't frown; you're prettier when you smile."

"Pretty, or handsome?" He pretends to pout.

"Both, I guess." I yawn and reach for my shirt. He stops me.

"Stay?"

"For you, anything."

Julius closes his eyes and I stay awake for a long while, admiring him and wondering how to handle things. Tomorrow, there will be plenty of time for complicated. For now, I savor the simple and the sweet.