01-Jules
Murphy’s Law—“Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.”
I was on a mission.
A mission that could change the very trajectory of the earth's rotation.
A mission so terrifying it had led to many deaths. Socially.
I, Jules Bennett, was going to ask a man out.
And not just any man.
I was asking out The Killian Kingsley.
“This is madness, Jules.” My best friend, Kia Forte, whispered aggressively as we speed-walked away from the Main Chamber.
Level-headed, striking and her swinging red ponytail always perfectly in place. Kia was the living result of what happens when a retired figure skater and a mild-mannered tax attorney who honestly had no business courting a woman who lived on ice decided to have a kid.
And when you put that against my messy brown hair, aggressively underplanned life, and a body powered almost entirely by optimism and caffeine, the difference between us became painfully obvious.
How did someone look that good when you’re in law school?
I glared at her. “You're the one who dared me to do it.”
“And you're actually going to?” She managed to keep pace with me despite her short legs. “Come on, just let this go.”
“And break my new year resolution about challenging myself. No way.”
“Jules, 99% of people never fulfill those. That's the whole point of having them.”
“Then I'll be part of the one percent.”
“Hey Jules. Hey Kia.” A group of girls we passed greeted.
An automatic smile plastered on my face. “Hey y'all. Love the new hairstyle you're rocking, Whitney.”
“Thanks Jules.” She called back.
“You're making a mistake.” Kia gritted out, waving to two boys at our other side.“This is Killian we're talking about, AKA the guy whose dad's basically runs Ireland, and acts like it gives him a PhD in superiority.”
I rolled my eyes. “First of all, his Dad doesn't run Ireland. He's just a politician. Not royalty. Secondly, of course he acts that way. I would too if one of my parents works in the government. Also, I find it very hypocritical of you to judge him. Like you didn't act similar, worse even when we first met.”
“I changed. He hasn't.”
“Right."
“He told you to fuck off during our first year. ”
“I was technically at fault though.” Alcohol made me very stupid. And very barfable too. “Also, that was months ago. He's probably forgotten all about it.” I hoped he did.
“Have we not been watching the same guy? He always leaves the room anytime you enter.”
The library was finally in sight. I hastened my steps. “Coincidence.”
“Coincidence, my ass—”
Illegal by PinkPantheress started to ring out from Kia’s phone.
Pulling it out from her bag, Kia immediately muttered a curse upon seeing the caller ID, then swiped to answer at the last ring.
“What?" She all but snapped into it.
Whoever it was at the other end said something that caused her to stop walking, pulling me to a halt as well. “But that isn't the time we agreed to. You can't just—”
Kia's face grew redder as she listened. “It still isn't fair. You’re being completely unreasonable.”
A few seconds later, her whole body sagged. “I'll be there."
She pulled the phone away from her ear, jaw tight.
“Drew?” I guessed. He was the only one who could change her mood so suddenly.
She nodded once, tugging at her long hair. Kia only did that when she was trying not to lose control. “He wants me to bring my Procedural law thesis now.”
I tilted my head. “But isn't that due next week?”
"Not anymore." Her lips flattened together. “Apparently, he has something important to do on that day.”
Then, wouldn't the best course of action be to move the date forward not backward? But I didn't ask that. Kia already looked murderous enough.
Drew Walsh was her Research Supervisor. At 34, he was one of the youngest and most good-looking out of the academic staff of Harrington. But according to Kia, he was nothing but a strangling green snake who wanted to snuff out any form of joy from her life.
I think he likes her.
I sighed. "Just go. I'll let you know how it goes.”
"Jules, no. You're not going anywhere without me there as backup.”
"I can handle myself, Kia. Don't you trust me?”
"Of course I do." Kia took my hands and squeezed. “It's your mouth I don't trust.”
“Hey!”
“Promise me, you won't meet him."
"But Kia—”
“Promise.” She gave me the look. The one that promised to feed me her cooking if I didn't concede.
“Okay, okay. Fine, I promise." The last thing I wanted was to spend my weekend hiding away from her. And I maybe also conceded because—annoyingly—she might be right.
"Thank you. I'll see you at home, okay?”
I waved her off. “Don't forget, it's your turn to get dinner.”
"I know. I know.” She turned around, looking withdrawn as she headed towards the office area.
Once Kia had gone far enough, I let the thought of continuing to the library linger. To think I'd been this close. Sighing, I forced myself to move in the opposite direction, might as well finish my assignment.
Distracted, I adjusted my tote bag to the front as my fingers dug through for my phone. Maybe it was for the best that I didn't ask Killian out after all today. I didn't feel ready yet. Cripes, where was the damn thing?
My head drooped down to my bag as I rounded a corner. Did I forget it back in the—
Something cold splashed on me as I collided into a wall.
I blinked rapidly, feeling dazed as I started to fall.
Instinctly, I closed my eyes, bracing for impact. But then, fingers grasped my arm from nowhere, pulling me right up straight and I slammed back into the wall.
No, not a wall. A body.
“Oh my God.” I gasped. I'd almost died. “Thank you so…” My voice trailed off as my eyes landed on my saviour’s grey ones underneath the glasses.
Oh no. Oh fucking no.
Chest rising and falling and his signature scowl forming on his lips. Killian Kingsley stood in front of me with a cup of what looked like or had been coffee spilled all over the ground.
Mortification had me silent for a hot minute before I could finally choke out a sentence.
“I am so sorry.” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “I didn't—I wasn't watching where I was going.”
Killian stared me down from his six-foot-how-many-inches-tall to my five-foot-five. With his grey eyes and dark hair, he looked downright menacing and intimidating.
Like Scar from Disney's The Lion King. But with glasses. His grey eyes narrowed behind them as he exhaled through tight lips. “It’s fine.”
A burst of heat washed over my body. His voice, with that slight lilt, was deeper than I remembered. Just how long ago had it been since I last heard—
He side-stepped me and started to leave.
“Wait. Hold on.” My voice squeaked as I darted forward, blocking him.
He stopped. “Yes?”
“I—uh—I mean…”
My mind scrambled for something coherent.
“Do you want to have sex with me?”
