Chaper 10 - Superpower

                                    

                                          
A/N: Been extremely busy, might have to make updates less frequent than once a week. Fixed a minor chronology error in chapter 5. That's what I fucking get for not doing enough research lol. Just pretend Jules isn't as busy as he actually would have been during this time. This story begins in November 2003. Sorry & thanks in advance.
Song of the day: California by Joni Mitchell

The rest of Julian's stay was brief - they talked and kissed a little more and then he had to go, promising she'd see him again soon. He gave her a little goodbye peck that only barely satisfied her appetite for him. 
Truth is, she was a little relieved. If he'd stayed any longer, things could have gone further than innocent kissing. It wasn't that the idea was off-putting; far from it, in fact. The thing was, stripping herself to another person was scary. She didn't want to show him the same body she despised.  
Sex was nothing really foreign. There was her only serious ex, John. He had been her first, and there was a time when she believed he would be her only. There were the various strangers during the first boom of Wildwood's success, each one new and thrilling but not all that passionate. And then, of course, the time Sylvie had used her body as bargaining chip - but that hardly even counted. It was over almost as soon as it began.
From then on, Sylvie didn't see much of Julian. He was busy with frequent performances for his second album, Room on Fire. The Strokes bounced back to New York a couple times for performances, and each time Sylvie was invited to the show and its afterparty. She usually went alone — the invitation was only really extended to her, anyway. 
At one of these joints, Jules made an attempt to touch her. He had been staring at her in the crowd - undressing her with his eyes - throughout his set. They were alone in the bathroom of some club, having found nowhere else to be alone. They could hear the muffled sounds of electronic music along with faint knocking on the door, which they disregarded as they sloppily kissed each other. First, he gently caressed her breast over her thin blouse, which she allowed and even encouraged. He toyed with the little white buttons down the front - it was obvious what he wanted.
His fingers breeched the low waistband of her jeans. She froze, her mouth still interlocked with his. Evidently, Jules could tell, because he retracted his hand and apologized. Things were stilted and awkward after that. She left after a few more minutes with him and hadn't seen him since. 
It was stupid to follow him into that bathroom in the first place.
December came to a close. Christmas was uneventful; the band spent a few hours together, and Sylvie received her bi-annual phone call from her parents. They sent her a card in the mail. Inside was a scribbled bible verse, Ephesians 4:32, and cash. As a little girl, Sylvie had engraved the same verse into a ceramic mug in art class as a gift for her parents. She suspected they were trying to send a message. She tucked the card into a drawer before heading outside for a smoke. The money would be sent back.
New Year's Eve was approaching rapidly and she planned to spend the evening in a dingy bar with strangers, sloshed out of her mind. The rest of the band wanted to all do something together, though. 
Rowan would be hosting them all for dinner and drinks. Farrah would be there, too. Sylvie took her time choosing what kind of champagne to bring. Truthfully, she knew nothing about champagne, but she settled on an elegant bottle with a price tag in the double-zeros. She also bought some Crown Royal, primarily for herself and Brian.
Sylvie arrived around 6:30. Meg was the only person who looked up when she entered. Rowan was in the middle of telling a story, standing on a table and gesticulating dramatically. Everyone's eyes were wide. He had a habit of speaking too loud anytime he got excited, something his neighbors likely suffered for.  
There was one extra person in Rowan's living room. Sylvie took a seat on Rowan's midcentury red sofa between her and Brian. According to Brian, the girl had been sleeping with Rowan for a few weeks, since just after their tour ended. Her name was Vera, and she was twenty-five, about a year older than Rowan. She had a spiky bob dyed cherry red and wore a black t-shirt with Siouxie Sioux's face on it. Her tights were artfully torn at the knee. What a couple. 
"Anyone want some champagne? Whiskey?" offered Sylvie. Everyone gave a response except Brian. His gaze was focused elsewhere. To his left, Rowan was cupping Vera's cheek, whispering something in her ear. She was laughing sweetly behind a pretty little palm. It might as well have been just the two of them in the room. Brian was completely still except for the anxious tapping of his fingers against his thigh.
Meg followed Sylvie to the mini-bar (yes, really). She opened the cabinet to collect a few glasses while Sylvie tried in vain to open the champagne.
"Hand it over here," said Meg softly. 
"Thanks," Sylvie muttered. "Hey..." she struggled for words. Any anger at Meg was long gone, and Sylvie was a little ashamed of her own reaction. "Is Brian tired or something? He looks distracted."
"I, uh, don't think so."
Something was off. Meg never stuttered. "Are you sure?"
"Well, you know, I think he might be feeling a little-" Meg leaned in, cupping her hand over Sylvie's ear, "-jealous."
"What, you think he likes Vera?"
"Not Vera. Rowan."
Right, of course. Nothing escaped Meg; it was like she had superpowers. Or was Brian being gay just that obvious? And wait, what about poor Ocean?
"What makes you say that?"
"I mean, just look at the poor guy," whispered Meg.
Sylvie swiveled her head around and saw Brian, who resembled a constipated statue. You would think he would be glad. Maybe with a new girl on his hands, Rowan would have less time for childish pranks, or at least someone else to pull them on. Brian liked to act annoyed every time he got harassed. Maybe it really was just that - an act. The two men spend a lot of time with each other, and lord knew Rowan wasn't bad looking. 
"You won't tell Brian I said anything, will you?" asked Meg. "I don't care if he's gay, or bisexual, or whatever. I just don't wanna be presumptive. Has he talked about it with you?"
Sylvie laughed nervously. That was answer enough.
"Doesn't he trust me? Why would he talk to you and not me? I mean, no offense or anything."
"First of all, ouch. Secondly, it's more complicated than that..." Sylvie trailed off, "Just, for now, don't tell anybody. He'll talk to you when he's ready. And for the record, I haven't heard anything about him and Rowan."
Meg sighed. "If you say so."