A Song for Julia

with me.”
    He shook his head. “Usually I’m the one who says things like that.”
    The cab came to a halt, and he paid it, and we were out on the street. A cool wind blew through the streets of downtown Bethesda, and traffic rolled by us. I took his hand and walked to the entrance of the high rise, swiped my access card to unlock the front door, and we walked into the lobby.
    The night concierge was sitting at the counter, watching a small television. She looked up briefly, gave us a casual wave and went back to her show. Good. If it had been the day concierge, my appearance with Crank would have been reported back to my parents by morning.
    We waited in silence for the elevator. The bell when it arrived on the ground floor was loud.
    “Nice place,” he said. “Fancy.”
    “My parents bought it a few years back when we were living in the area.” I didn’t want to talk about the year I’d lived with my parents here. I didn’t want to think about it. If there’d been any other place I could have taken him, I would have. I didn’t like having this crazy, free moment mixed with my past.
    We stepped into the elevator. It rose, quickly, to the top floor. He followed me down the hall, and we stopped at the door while I fumbled for keys. I was shaking with anxiety, nervousness. The weight of this place made me want to scream. But not enough to push him away.
    I unlocked the door and opened it, then started to step in. My heart was thumping in my chest, and my throat was tight. Not just because of him. Because of this place. I had no good memories here. Even with the lights still out, looking inside this condo, which I’d stepped foot in only a few times since the day I graduated high school, shook me to the core and made my skin crawl.
    I shuddered and then turned back toward him when he didn’t come inside. He gave me a speculative, questioning look. As if he were curious about me, about who I was.
    But that wasn’t any of his business.
    “What?” I asked.
    “You don’t want to see me again,” he said.
    I did. But I shook my head no.
    “You don’t sleep with guys unless you’re serious with them,” he said.
    “I don’t have room for serious in my life.”
    He stepped close and brushed my lips with his, then spoke in a low tone. “I want you to be serious about me,” he said. “I can get a girl to sleep with me any time. But there’s something different about you.”
    I stared into his eyes. He meant what he was saying. We’d only known each other for a few hours, but I felt a connection too, even if it was only lust. I wanted him. Right now. I felt my breath speed up as I started to speak, “I …”
    “Julia,” he interrupted. “I’d love to get to know you better,” he said. “But I’m not going to sleep with you. Good night.”
    Then, unbelievably, he leaned forward and kissed me again. Slow. Our tongues just made contact. Wet and warm. Hungry. I wanted to whimper, pull him inside, but he turned and slowly walked back down the hall until he was out of sight.
    I just stood there and watched him go, and part of me, a huge part of me, wanted to run after him. But I still remembered.
    I remembered what it was like to have a hot, sexy, charismatic guy want me. I remembered what it was like to lose control, to feel that rush of emotion. To be overwhelmed.
    I remembered what it was like to have my heart torn out, to have my dreams smashed, to be bleeding and lost in the back streets of Beijing. To have scandal nearly tear my family apart.
    No matter how much I might have wanted this guy: I couldn’t go back there. Not now. Not ever. If it wasn’t going to happen for just tonight, it wasn’t going to happen at all.
    So, I walked in the condo and closed and locked the door. I didn’t turn on the lights. I didn’t want to see the inside of this place. Instead, I made my way to the couch and lay down, alone.
    I didn’t cry. Not here. Never again.

CHAPTER THREE

    Under the Surface (Crank)
    Seriously, I’m a frickin’ idiot.
    I ended up waving down a cab outside her apartment building, kicking myself in the ass the entire time. I didn’t leave because I didn’t want her. Because, oh, man, did I want her.
    I left because I did. I left because I’ve had plenty of one-nighters, but something told me I wanted more. Or … whatever. I don’t even know why I left.
    It was one in the morning by the time I got back to the hotel, which is still pretty early for me, but all I wanted to do