CHAPTER 33: ANOTHER WEEKEND

Chapter 33

JULIAN POLE

Days are running fast.

The halls at school were loud again. People laughing, lockers slamming, someone playing music from a speaker they probably weren’t supposed to have. Everything looked exactly the same, and somehow, I didn’t fit in it anymore. Not like before.

I sat through classes I didn’t care about, nodded when teachers called my name, and tried to focus when I caught myself zoning out. It didn’t work. My brain kept drifting to one person.

Jace.

It’s stupid, I know. He hadn’t called, hadn’t texted.

And now he quit. And I didn’t even know about it.

He’s the devil.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way he looked at me before he left. Like he wanted to say something but didn’t trust himself to.

By Tuesday, I’d memorized the silence.

By Wednesday, I stopped expecting a text or a call.

Who am I kidding? A call from him is a luxury.

I’m going insane. But my friends are keeping me busy. Luka brought snacks during lunch, Rico made fun of my hoodie collection, and they both made sure I ate. But they weren’t dumb. They could see I was just... there. Existing.

"You okay?" Luka asked one afternoon, watching me stab at my mashed potatoes like they’d committed a crime.

"Yeah," I lied.

He frowned but didn’t push. He knows I’ll talk when I’m ready. Or maybe he’s just tired of hearing the same lie every time.

When Thursday rolled around, Mom went back to work. She kissed my forehead that morning and said, "I’ll be at the hospital if you need anything."

That was all the permission I needed.

After school, I decided to go see her. Mostly because I needed an excuse to see if Enzo was around. Maybe he’d tell me something, anything, about Jace. I didn’t even know what I was expecting. A clue? A sign? Maybe just a voice that said he was okay.

The hospital smelled like sanitizer and stress. The kind of smell that makes your brain remember too many bad things.

Sigh.

Mom was in her scrubs, sitting at the nurse’s station when I walked up. Her face lit up the second she saw me.

"Jules! What are you doing here?"

"Wanted to see you," I said, and that wasn’t a lie. "And... uh, maybe Enzo too. Is he around?"

Her smile faltered a bit. "Enzo? No"

"But he told me specifically that he was going to this big dinner in Queens this Saturday. You know those fancy charity galas." She laughed lightly.

"I think he knew you would come looking for him." She paused

"I’m alright" I said before she asked

She nodded

After we talked for a bit, I hugged her and left. I didn’t go straight home, though. I sat on a bench across the street for a while, staring at nothing, my brain spinning faster than I could keep up with.

A dinner. In Queens. Jace would be there.

It wasn’t even a question.

Now how the hell was I supposed to get in?

Stupid right? Yea I know. But I don’t like waiting.

Marco

Why didn’t this plan cross my mind?

I’d barely spoken to him since the hospital, but he’d always been... decent. And if there was anyone who could get me close to Jace, it was his little brother.

So, I texted him.

Me: Hey, can we talk?

He replied instantly

Marco: Sure. Is everything okay?

Me: Not really. Can you meet?

Marco: Yeah, I’m free. Sending the location

We met at a small café near campus. He looked surprised to see me but didn’t say anything right away. Just nodded for me to sit.

"Okay," he said after a sip of his drink. "What’s going on?"

"I need your help."

His eyebrows went up immediately. "That sounds dangerous already."

"It’s not," I said quickly. "At least, not really."

He tilted his head. "Julian."

"I just need to get into this dinner in Queens this Saturday."

He blinked, then actually laughed. "You’re kidding."

Of course he knew

"I’m not."

"Julian, that’s a private event. My dad’s hosting it."

Oh. That’s why he knew.

"That makes it even better, since you are the inner man."

"There are bodyguards, cameras, a guest list—"

"I don’t care." My voice came out sharper than I meant. "Please, Marco. I need to see him."

That shut him up.

He stared at me for a long time. I could tell he wanted to say no, but there was this flicker in his eyes. Something that looked a lot like pity. Or maybe understanding.

Finally, he sighed. "You’re insane, you know that?"

"I’ve been told."

He rubbed his temples. "Fine. You didn’t hear this from me, okay?"

I nodded, my heart already hammering.

"I’ll get you a pass. There’ll be servers wearing masks for the fundraiser theme. Something about anonymous generosity, I don’t even know. You’ll blend in. But, Julian..." His tone shifted, serious now. "If my dad sees you, it could get messy."

I swallowed hard. "I know."

"Okay." He leaned back. "I’ll text you the details tomorrow. And, uh... good luck, I guess."

"Thanks man"

He smirked. "You’re crazier than my brother. That’s saying something."

I shrugged.

Friday came fast. Too fast.

Thanksgiving break started on Friday, which made things easier. I told my parents I’d be staying over at Luka’s for the weekend. Something about a small friends’ dinner. They didn’t question it. Why would they? Luka’s basically their son.

That night, I packed a small bag. A change of clothes, the server outfit Marco managed to get me, and my sketchbook. Because I still couldn’t go anywhere without it. The uniform was simple. Black trousers, white shirt, a vest, and a mask that covered the upper half of my face. I stared at it for a while, running my fingers along the edges.

I didn’t even know what I was doing anymore.

But I had to see him.

Saturday evening, I caught the 6:15 train to Queens. The city looked different that night. Brighter somehow, like it was mocking me for chasing something I probably shouldn’t.

I watched people on the train. Couples leaning into each other, a kid asleep on his mom’s shoulder, a guy typing furiously on his laptop. Everyone had somewhere to be. Someone to meet.

And me? I was chasing a ghost in a suit.

The train rattled through tunnels, and my reflection stared back from the window. tired eyes, nerves, determination.

"You’re insane," I whispered to myself.

So insane.

When the train stopped at the Queens plaza station, I stepped out into the cold night. The air felt like it was biting my face. I pulled my jacket tighter and started walking toward the venue Marco texted me earlier. A grand hall with tall glass walls and lights that looked like stars trapped inside.

I could already see the cars pulling up. Sleek, expensive, the kind of vehicles that didn’t belong anywhere near my reality. Men in suits, women in gowns, and laughter that sounded fake even from a distance.

At the back entrance, a few staff members were lined up, checking names and passes. My palms were sweating when I handed mine over. The woman barely looked at me before nodding and waving me in.

I slipped inside with the rest of the servers, heart beating so loud it drowned out the music.

We waited in the kitchen, all lined up like soldiers in borrowed uniforms. The head server was pacing back and forth, running through the rules.

No eye contact with guests, no lingering, no talking unless spoken to. Pretty much, "pretend you don’t exist."

Opposite of what I’m going to do.

The kitchen was chaos in slow motion. Steam from the ovens fogged up the glass, and the air smelled like butter, truffle, and something sweet baking in the corner.

Chefs were shouting orders. Trays of crab cakes, mini quiches, and shrimp skewers sliding down the counter. Someone brushed past me with a platter stacked with tiny steak bites and toothpicks sticking out like flags.

My palms were sweating inside the gloves, and the mask on my face made it harder to breathe.

Every few seconds, a new scent cuts through the air. Garlic, wine sauce, roasted duck, and something fruity from the dessert table

The head server clapped his hands. "Positions, people. Smile, but not too much."

Trays of champagne flutes started passing down the line. I grabbed one and tried not to shake. My heart was going nuts, but it wasn’t fear. It was because I knew who I was here for. Somewhere out there, my professor was pretending to be his father’s perfect son again.

I straightened my tie, adjusted the mask, and followed the others out.

The ballroom was ridiculous. Chandeliers, a live orchestra. Everything smelled like money and perfume.

I moved through the crowd with my tray, offering glasses I didn’t care about, smiles I didn’t mean. I was serving, yeah. But my eyes were looking for something else.

Someone.

And then I saw him.

Standing near the main table, dressed in black, his posture straight but his eyes distant. Aiko stood beside him, smiling at some guests. He nodded politely, saying all the right words, but I could see it. He wasn’t there. Not really.

Something in my chest twisted so hard it almost hurt.

I clutched the tray tighter, trying not to make a scene.

He looked older somehow. Colder. But still him. Still the man who once kissed me like he was starving for air.

I didn’t know if I wanted to run to him or punch him.

Instead, I just stood there. Anonymous behind my mask. Watching him laugh at something Aiko said.

The music swelled, people started clapping, and I finally forced myself to move.

One step. Then another.

If he looked my way, if he saw me. God, I didn’t even know what I’d say.

But I needed him to see me.

Not as a student. Not as a kid.

Just as someone who never stopped choosing him.