Behind Closed Doors

Before I could even comprehend the online chaos, I heard it—

My caravan door was knocked on sharply.

Before I even opened it, I knew who it was.

Julian.

Furthermore, I was not prepared for this.

Not when my hands were still trembling from reading his quote. I won’t pretend there wasn’t something real in that moment.

Not when my chest was still tight from the way he had kissed me on set—like he wanted to consume me.

Not when the entire internet had already decided we were either secretly in love or the greatest actors of all time.

I took a slow breath, then yanked the door open.

He was standing there, arms crossed, sunglasses hiding his eyes.

“Get in,” I muttered, stepping aside.

He didn’t hesitate.

The second the door shut behind him, he ripped off his sunglasses and turned on me.

“What the hell was that today?”

I let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you can tell me, since you’re the one who couldn’t stick to the damn script.”

His jaw clenched. “You didn’t stop me.”

I bristled. “That’s your defense? You kissed me like—like that, and it’s my fault for not pulling away?”

He took a step closer, and my breath caught.

Damn him.

Damn him for always closing the space between us.

Damn him for the way my body reacted every time he did.

“I didn’t say it was your fault,” he said, voice low. “I’m saying I wasn’t the only one feeling it.”

My stomach flipped.

But I refused to let him see that.

I scoffed. “Feeling what exactly? Because from where I’m standing, it just looks like you enjoyed putting on a show for the cameras.”

His gaze darkened. “You think that was just for them?”

I swallowed hard.

Because no—I didn’t think that.

I knew it wasn’t just for them.

But admitting that out loud? No way in hell was I giving him that.

“I think you like messing with me,” I said instead, voice tight. “I think you’ve spent years pushing my buttons, and now that we’re stuck together, you’re using this to get in my head.”

He let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “Jesus, Ethan. Do you really think that’s all this is?”

“Isn’t it?” I shot back. “What else would it be?”

For a second, he didn’t answer.

And in that silence, my heart pounded against my ribs.

Then—

He moved.

So fast that I barely had time to react.

One second, he was standing across from me. The next, I was backed against the trailer wall, his hands braced beside my head, caging me in.

I inhaled sharply, but he didn’t touch me.

He just leaned in—so damn close I could see the flicker of something dangerous in his gaze.

“You want to know what this is?” His voice was quieter now, but thick with something I couldn’t name. “Fine. Let’s be honest, then.”

I swallowed. “Julian—”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about that first kiss,” he murmured. “And neither have you.”

My fingers curled into fists.

“You’re wrong.”

His lips tilted in a slow, knowing smirk. “Am I?”

I hated that look.

I hated how easily he saw through me.

But what I hated most?

The fact that he was right.

I had tried to push it down, ignore the way my skin still tingled from his touch. But the truth was, from the moment we walked off set, my mind had been replaying it over and over.

I exhaled through my nose, forcing myself to hold his gaze.

“So what, Julian? What do you want me to say? That you’re the best damn kisser I’ve ever had? That I forgot where we were when you touched me? That maybe—just maybe—some part of me liked it?”

I huffed a bitter laugh. “Yeah, not happening.”

His eyes darkened.

“Coward.”

I tensed. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” His voice was razor-sharp now. “You’re terrified to admit this is real. That we’re real.”

“Real?” I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Julian, we are a PR nightmare. The entire internet thinks we’re either madly in love or at each other’s throats. And you—you went and gave them that quote.”

His expression didn’t change.

“You mean the truth?”

I scoffed. “You can’t just go around admitting things like that! You’re supposed to deny it. To—”

“To what?” he interrupted. “Lie?”

“Yes!”

The word ripped out of me.

Silence.

Thick. Tense.

Then Julian took another step forward.

I flattened against the wall, my breath hitching.

“You want me to lie,” he murmured. “Fine. I can do that.”

His eyes flicked down to my lips.

“I can say that kiss meant nothing.”

He dipped lower, his voice a whisper now.

“I can say I don’t think about it.”

He shifted, his breath ghosting my jaw.

“I can say I don’t want you.”

His hand brushed my hip—just barely.

A tease. A warning.

“But if I say all that,” he continued, voice dangerously soft, “will you believe me?”

I couldn’t breathe.

Because I wouldn’t.

Because if Julian Cross was one thing, it was a damn good liar.

But this?

This wasn’t a lie.

I hated him for it.

Hated that I was losing this battle.

Hated that he was winning.

And I hated, most of all, the way my body betrayed me.

I wasn’t pushing him away.

I was leaning in.

Like I wanted—no, needed—him to close the space between us.

Julian’s eyes searched mine.

Then—

He smirked.

And just like that, the moment was over.

He stepped back, putting deliberate space between us.

I sucked in a shaky breath, suddenly cold without him near.

“See?” he said, voice smooth. “I can lie.”

Then he grabbed his sunglasses off the table, slid them back on, and walked out.

Leaving me alone, furious, confused, and wanting him more than ever.