Love In Slow Motion (Love Beyond Measure #2) - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,7

He works in the office, and I want Ilan to come over one day. He’s my best friend.” Julian’s voice was high, tight, pleading in a way Ilan had never heard before. Like he expected to be turned down and stepped on.

He looked up at this man to determine whether or not he needed a punch to the face too, because Julian had obviously suffered enough. But there was nothing scary about Mr. Pedalino—at least, nothing Ilan could see.

He was nothing like Julian at all. He was tall with big shoulders and a friendly smile and soft eyes. And he kept Julian’s hand gently against his own and pulled him in for a hug that Ilan felt in his own bones, because he knew what that kind of love was like, and it let him breathe a little easier.

He couldn’t stomach the thought that someone was cruel to this boy who had done nothing at all but exist as himself.

Of course, Ilan would eventually learn the truth, a week later when he was sitting in the back seat of a very posh car with a driver who wore a hat and everything. Mr. Pedalino was nowhere to be found, but Julian didn’t seem to find it strange that he got into a car with a man who didn’t even really look at him. They took the winding roads to a big, wrought iron gate that opened with a code, and Ilan’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of manicured lawns and long circled driveways that lined the street. They even passed a house that had a waterslide poking up over the top of a fence, and he realized that his new best friend existed in an entirely different universe from him.

He was a mess of inferiority by the time they pulled up to Julian’s house, which was no less splendid than everyone else’s on the street, and he had to wonder why—why did this boy want to be his friend? Did Julian actually like him, or was it just because no one else did?

Ilan wanted to hit something again—maybe even Julian, because he was feeling resentment and insecurity in ways he’d never experienced before. Bullying was one thing—and he could solve that with a well-timed punch. But being pitied, being used, he didn’t know what to think.

Then he looked at Julian, who seemed actually nervous, and something in him snapped. He reached out and took his friend’s hand, and the smile on Julian’s face was worth it because he’d never seen him look that way at school. In fact, he’d only smiled like that the day Mr. Pedalino had hugged him out by the fence.

“Is your dad home?” Ilan asked.

Julian swallowed thickly. “Yeah. He uh…he said he’d be here when you first meet…” He stopped, like that was the end of the sentence, and Ilan frowned. “My mom,” he finally went on. “When you meet my mom.”

Ilan felt something like fear and trepidation because Julian never talked about his mom. But Ilan had assumed maybe she was just a working parent who didn’t have time to do all the parent-y things the other kids’ moms could. His own worked night shifts, so he didn’t see her as often as he liked. It didn’t mean he loved her less, and that was probably how it was here.

Inside, the house was like a museum with its white tiled floors and gentle grey walls and paintings everywhere. It smelled clean and fresh, and Ilan felt like his scuffed shoes were going to leave stains if he wasn’t careful. His heart thudded a little, and he wished there was a place they could run off to that wasn’t there—a place that was warm and steady the way Julian’s hand felt in his.

But instead, he was tugged into a big room that looked like a cross between a living room and an office. It had a writing desk in the corner, and big bookshelves, and a fireplace. And he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be allowed to touch anything, especially when his eyes came to rest on the woman who was standing by a low table.

She was beautiful, and Ilan could see something like resemblance in her that Julian shared. But she didn’t smile even a little, and her eyes were narrow and calculating when she fixed them on Ilan. She stared long enough at their joined hands that Julian snatched his away and swiped it on his blazer, and after a beat,