Catherine's POV
I opened the door, half-asleep. The faint curl of smoke hit me instantly and I looked down to find Julian sitting on the floor against the wall, cigarette dangling loosely between his fingers. His jaw was tight in that frustratingly controlled way he always had.
"What are you still doing here?" I croaked with my scratchy voice.
He shrugged lazily, narrowing his eyes just enough to make my stomach twist. "Waiting for you to stop hating me," he said dryly, as if it were obvious.
I blinked at him, half-expecting him to vanish like a figment of my imagination. "Hate you?" I echoed, incredulously. "I don't hate you." My voice cracked anyway. I hated the way he made me feel, and hating him was too weak for the mess of feelings I had.
He tilted his head and a faint smirk teased at the corner of his mouth. "Sure, Wildcat. Make yourself believe that."
