Perfect Hook

Perfect Hook: 03

Chapter Three

Julian and I meet the week after.

A bundle of nerves settle in the pit of my stomach as I sit in the small coffee shop. My gaze skims over the rustic coffee shop; with layered bricks and rustic looking chairs, it certainly fit the aesthetic.

I'm early so I've ordered a vanilla latte, which is quite literally the worst beverage to drink when anxious. My stomach reminds me of that, and I grimace.

I shuffle in my seat and press my smock dress down; it's a baby blue colour and as I thread my fingers through it, I recall how much my mum loved this. Everything reminds me of my family recently and I would assume it's a sign, but I don't think it is. I just think I'm being punished.

Julian arrives a minute later. "Hey," he says softly and slides into the seat before me. "Sorry I'm late."

"Hi," I murmur and smile. "You alright?"

The menu is in his hand before I blink. ""It's okay if I order, right? Just finished training so I'm ridiculously hungry," His words are said in a rush as he pulls the menu; eyes practically devouring all of the options that are set in front of him. I purposely didn't look at the menu, just in case I felt tempted to order before he got here.

His dark hair is pulled back into what I can only describe as a pony-tail, but it isn't long enough for that - somehow though, despite that, he pulls it off. He scratches his beard, fingers tugging at the strands for a few seconds and a smile graces his lips, just as I tear my gaze away and he looks up. "Chicken sounds amazing right now, do you want some?"

I let out an awkward laugh, "I'm vegetarian, actually."

It's worth the "Shit," that passes his full lips. "Sorry. I can order something else."

Despite his words, he looks almost defeated at the thought of not having chicken. I smile, "I honestly don't mind what you order, Julian. It's not the first time I've seen someone eat a piece of chicken,"

He cracks a grin, "I look like a right old twat, don't I?"

"You're good," I say, reassuringly as his green eyes drown into my own. "Don't worry, I get it a lot."

He places the menu back on the table and leans back into his seat, accentuating his large arms that are wrapped in his simple white t-shirt. Julian's brows draw together and he leans forward, "What made you give up the chicken?" he asks in disbelief. His arms are full of beautiful woven tattoos - far more than I've seen on anyone else and all I want to ask him is what each one means since we appear to be playing a game of twenty questions.

I run a hand through my hair, pushing it back behind my shoulders. He watches the movement and for a second I'm completely enthralled. "The chicken dying," I say. "But no, jokes aside, I watched a documentary."

Julian lets out a hearty laugh. "Why is there always a documentary involved?"

I laugh because it's true. My friend in university was also a vegetarian and the documentary had got to her too. It was almost a running joke at this point.

"They just know how to reel you in. I never even ate pork and the little pigs..." I trail off.

***

"So, the charity. Tell me about it."

I reach into the bag beside me and pull out my folder of notes and spread it around the table between us. "I didn't bring all my notes," I joke. "But I started it up a few months ago. It's called The Purple Project – SUDEP. Sudden Unexpected Death in Epilepsy. I know there are so many charities out there that deal with epilepsy, but there aren't many on SUDEP. And most importantly, almost all don't deal with counselling for family members, friends and obviously those with epilepsy. Particularly, in the case of death."

His body language completely changes for a split second; he tenses, his muscles drawing in together, his shoulders hunched and his jaw clenches. "Why do you want to focus on that? What's your connection to it all?"

"Why does there have to be a connection?"

"There's always a connection in any charity," Julian affirms and returns. "Whether it's cancer, age, or in this case epilepsy. It's admirable, don't get me wrong here, but our passions are always driven by things we've experienced and the things we've had to encounter in our lives,"

He was right about that - there was always a remote cause to any charity being established. And mine was personal. My entire charity was for Adam and I was going to have to talk about him at some point, whether I wanted to or not.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," he says gently and I look up, plucking at the tissues on the table. My heart hurts a little right then, at the thought of having to talk about Adam like he's dead. Even though I know that's what he is - dead. Julian looks nothing like him; they're complete, opposites but his presence is so similar to Adam that it's startling.

I jerk my head and smile. "My best friend had epilepsy," I confess and look at the brick walls; all decorated with little fairy lights that fill up the entire room. Suddenly they're far more interesting than Julian.

"Had?"

"He died."

His expression softens. "You know my brother has epilepsy," he says after a long pause. "He was diagnosed when he was seven years old. It was a shock to us all, you know? One minute he was the kid that was playing basketball with his friends and then he was on the ground, head bleeding from his fall and his body convulsing. It was a big shock to us all."

He's right about that. Epilepsy is a big game-changer, it doesn't just change the life of the person with it, but everyone around them. Despite that, Adam and I had always agreed that it wasn't a disability in the conventional way; he could still do plenty of things. Things that even I couldn't manage.

A moment of silence passes between us.

The waitress arrives just as I find courage and my lips part. "What can I get you both?" she asks, gaze solely on Julian. He shoots her a grin that I can imagine is the sole reason for her subsequent red cheeks.

"I'll have the chicken and quinoa with the veg. And extra chicken please," Julian raises a brow at me. "Did you want anything?"

"Just the veggie burrito with fries."

The waitress notes it down rapidly and shoots him another sweet smile before leaving. Julian glances back at her for a second and I roll my eyes, as handsome as he is, he also lives up to the reputation of most men. Except he doesn't sleep around - he's just a serial dater. I don't know which is worse.

I cough and Julian's gaze returns to mine. "I'm a counsellor," I say and a warm feeling passes through me at the accomplishment every time. "Six hundred people die every year because of epilepsy and there's no available support for their family after this. I of all people know how much change counselling can bring to someone's life after a death and I genuinely believe this would make such a huge difference to people's lives."

Julian appears thoughtful after my words. They are quite the mouthful, but this means a lot to me. I'm almost on the edge of my seat waiting for his response, purely because Julian can make the biggest difference in this. I'd started the Instagram page a few months prior and had managed three followers; one being myself, one being my spam account and the third I'm almost certain was a mistaken follow.

But I'd also hired a manager who was in charge of all the logistics behind it. There was still so much behind the scenes to do, so a majority was coming out of my pocket. But Julian equalled traction which equalled more funding and more opportunities to fulfil what I wanted out of this.

"I would be honoured to be part of this," he finally says, just as our food is bought out. "Just as it's personal to you, it is to me. My parents died when I was eighteen,"

My brows furrow and a sadness passes through me. Despite how I feel about mine, I know how lucky I am. "I'm sorry."

Julian nods, "My brother is everything to me and it saddens me to think that this stuff isn't spoke about enough, so you just tell me how I can help you and I'm there."

In that moment, I feel the relief rush through me.

"Let's get started."