Chapter 2 I Want to Kiss You
Eleanor's POV
Julian's hand covered my eyes. His other arm locked around my waist, the pressure the only thing keeping my knees from buckling.
"Listen to me." His breath was warm against my ear. "I'm going to let go. You breathe. Smile. Don't you dare cry."
Outside, Arthur's voice carried through the door. "Come on, it's freezing. Let's get inside."
My fingernails bit into my palms. The sharp sting helped.
Julian's hand lifted. Firelight flooded my vision. Chloe stood by the kitchen archway, her champagne flute suspended halfway to her lips. Blake and Zach emerged from the game room, their footsteps slowing to a stop.
The door swung open.
Arthur stepped in, snowflakes melting in his dark hair. His arm wrapped around a woman's waist—tall, elegant, long brown hair cascading over a burgundy coat.
"Sorry we're late, everyone!"
She unwound her scarf. A Cartier bracelet caught the light.
Arthur's hand settled at the small of her back. The gesture was easy. Familiar. The way you touch someone who belongs to you.
"This is Vivienne Ashford." His smile reached his eyes. "My girlfriend."
Behind me, Chloe's breath hitched.
I stretched my lips. The same smile I'd perfected at Sterling family dinners—all teeth, nothing behind it.
Blake's beer bottle slipped in his grip. He caught it. "Uh... hey. Welcome."
Julian said nothing. He leaned against the fireplace mantel, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on his brother.
Vivienne glided forward, hand extended. Her perfume arrived first—something French, expensive, the kind that lingered. "It's so nice to meet you all. Arthur talks about you constantly."
She moved through the room like she'd rehearsed it. Each handshake firm. Each smile calibrated.
"You must be Chloe. Marine Biology with Elle?"
Chloe's smile looked painted on. "Yeah. Roommates."
"And Blake—rugby, right? And Zach at Goldman Sachs?"
Then she faced me.
"And Elle!" Her voice warmed, like we were already friends. "Arthur's told me so much about you. You're like a little sister to him."
The champagne flute trembled in my hand. I locked my elbow.
"Nice to meet you." The words came from somewhere far away.
I shook her hand. Her grip was confident. Her skin soft.
Julian made a sound—half laugh, half something sharper.
Arthur's head snapped toward him. "Something funny?"
Julian's shoulder lifted in a lazy shrug. That smirk. "Nothing. Congratulations, bro. She's perfect."
Arthur crossed the room. His hand ruffled my hair—the same gesture he'd done a thousand times. "Elle, you look beautiful tonight."
His gaze dropped to my dress. A line appeared between his eyebrows. "But aren't you cold? It's ten below out there."
My throat closed. I swallowed. "I'm fine. There's a party later."
"Oh right, the club thing." His face brightened. He pulled Vivienne closer. "Perfect. Viv can meet everyone—"
The rest of his words turned to white noise.
Julian laughed again. The sound had edges.
Arthur turned. "Seriously, what's your problem?"
"No problem." Julian straightened. His eyes glinted in the firelight. "Just admiring how oblivious you are."
"Where's our room?" Arthur's gaze flickered to me, then away.
"Far end. Second floor." I studied the floor.
Their footsteps climbed the stairs. Her laugh echoed down the hallway.
Chloe rushed over. "Elle—"
"Don't." I jerked away. Champagne sloshed over the rim. "I'm fine."
Julian stayed by the fireplace. Watching.
"Still going to that party?" His tone was casual.
I lifted my chin. "Why not? I look great. I should have fun."
"Bad idea."
"Don't care."
Julian shook his head. "You're going to regret this."
"Probably." I drained my champagne. The bubbles burned. "But right now? I really don't give a fuck."
The party had already swallowed half the resort. Massive bonfires threw orange light across the snow. The DJ booth pulsed with bass that vibrated through the ground. Industrial heaters glowed red, creating islands of warmth in the frozen night.
I'd changed. Black sequined mini dress. Leather jacket. Dark makeup that made my eyes look hollow.
"Babe, maybe you should—" Chloe's hand reached for my arm.
"I'm going to have the time of my life tonight." I headed straight for the nearest ice bar.
Wyatt was already there. He turned, took one look at my face. "Whoa, Elle—"
"Tequila shots. Three. Now."
The bartender lined them up. Salt. Lime. Clear liquid that caught the colored lights.
I threw back the first shot. Slammed the glass down hard enough to crack. The second burned all the way down. The third went down easier.
I grabbed a champagne flute from a passing tray and walked away.
Behind me, Wyatt's voice dropped low. "Where's Julian?"
The music was loud enough to feel in my chest. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back. Snowflakes landed on my face, melting instantly.
Someone caught my elbow.
"Easy there, Red."
Julian.
My eyes flew open. "What do you want?"
"To stop you from doing something stupid on my watch." He took my champagne, set it on a passing tray.
"Hey!"
"Dance with me first." That smirk again. "Come on. Show me you can still stand."
"You're such an asshole."
"Yeah, but I'm a useful asshole." He pulled me toward the dance floor.
The bass vibrated through my bones. I was drunk enough not to fight.
His hand settled on my waist. His other caught mine. His palm was warm, calloused.
"You happy now?" My words ran together slightly. "Watching me humiliate myself?"
"I'm watching a trainwreck in real time." His voice was dry. "Not exactly fun."
"You were right." I laughed. The sound came out wrong—sharp, brittle. "He only sees me as his little sister."
The song changed. Slower. He adjusted our movement, pulling me closer.
"He saved my life, Julian." My throat tightened. Snow mixed with something warmer on my cheeks. "When I was eight. At the Greenwich pier. The water was so cold and I couldn't breathe and he jumped in. How do I just... forget that?"
"I know. I was there." His jaw worked. "Twelve years old. Useless as hell while my perfect brother saved the day."
My head dropped against his shoulder. His sweater smelled like woodsmoke and something clean.
"Why are you always so annoying?" The words slurred together.
His throat moved against my temple. "Because I like..."
He stopped.
I lifted my head. Even through the alcohol haze, something in his voice made me focus.
His breath caught. For three seconds, he forgot to move.
Then—
"Elle!"
We both turned.
Arthur. Vivienne beside him in a deep red dress. His face was full of concern, but something in his eyes looked tired. Rehearsed.
Vivienne touched his arm. "Are you okay, darling?"
"I'm fine." Arthur looked at me. "You've had too much to drink. Julian, take her back."
Something in Julian's face went cold. Hard.
"She said she's fine."
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "This isn't your business."
"Isn't it?" Julian stepped forward, putting himself between Arthur and me. "You brought your girlfriend to Elle's trip. Called her your 'little sister' in front of everyone. And you're surprised she's upset?"
"Don't." I pushed past Julian. The world tilted. "Don't fight about me. I'm not worth it."
"Elle—" Arthur reached out.
I jerked away. "I'm going back. Alone."
"No, you're not." Julian caught my wrist. "You can barely walk."
"Then I'll crawl." I met his eyes. "Let go."
"Not a chance."
My shoulders sagged. I let him pull me away.
The walk back was quiet. Just snow crunching under our feet. My occasional stumble. Julian's arm around my waist, holding most of my weight.
Halfway down the trail, I stopped. Snow caught in my hair, melting against my scalp.
"Julian." My breath fogged in the cold. "Would I be happier if I'd never met him?"
He was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "Maybe. Why can't you... why can't you look at the people around you?"
By the time we reached the lodge, my legs wouldn't cooperate. My head lolled against his shoulder.
"I don't want to go to my room."
He sighed. Steered me up to the third floor. Away from them.
He leaned me against the wall outside an empty room next to his.
"You need to sleep."
"I don't want to be alone."
He crouched down. Started unlacing my heels. His fingers were careful, methodical.
My hand went to his head. His hair was soft between my fingers.
"You're really nice."
"I'm really not."
"No." My drunk logic made everything simple. Clear. "You are. You're nice and you're—"
I tilted his chin up. The hallway light caught his face. Gray-blue eyes. Sharp jaw. Even blurry, even spinning, I could see it.
"You're really handsome."
He went completely still. "Elle, you're drunk."
"I know." My thumb traced his jaw. The stubble there was rough. "But you're still... so handsome."
"Stop—"
"I want to kiss you."
His breath stopped. I felt it—the sudden stillness in his chest beneath my palm, the way his pulse jumped under my fingertips at his jaw.
