Chapter 9: Not Suitable for Dating

Home?

What home?

Willow Avery cracked her eyelids open just a sliver, barely managing to see the person in front of her.

She murmured softly, "Uncle Julian..."

"Wait, Uncle Julian?" Her consciousness snapped into focus instantly, and she hurriedly sat bolt upright. "Why are you here?"

Julian Kingston noticed the exhaustion in her eyes and said gently, "It’s seven-thirty."

He had originally planned to pick her up today, but a complex case came in near the end of his shift, and he didn't finish until six-thirty.

When he returned to the apartment and found that Willow wasn't back yet, he came to the school to find her.

"Sorry, Uncle Julian," Willow explained. "The teacher asked me to stay behind for individual training."

Julian didn't understand the intricacies of dance education and frowned. "Are you dancing poorly? Is that why you were kept after class?"

Willow blinked her eyelashes.

Did Uncle Julian have so little faith in her?

Before she could explain, Julian spoke again: "It’s likely your teacher’s level isn't sufficient. You don't need to doubt yourself."

This was the first time Willow had heard this kind of consolation.

She thought he would say something like "practice makes perfect" or "try harder next time."

"Alright," Julian said, changing the subject to stop her from dwelling on criticism. "Let's head back first."

"Oh, okay."

Willow stood up, but after taking only two steps, a wave of dizziness washed over her.

She instinctively reached out for the nearby mirror, but a hand caught her first, pulling her waist tight.

A flash of worry crossed Julian’s eyes as he asked in a low voice, "Did you skip lunch?"

Willow nodded, then shook her head.

She had eaten what he made, but after the trip to the Chinese pharmacy, it was mostly digested.

She had planned to grab something quick at school, but Jace Miller had kept her and Luna Hayes practicing the piece, so she hadn't had time to go to the cafeteria.

The afternoon training had been intense; it was already a feat that she had held out this long.

However, she didn't want to trouble others.

So she forced herself to say, "I’m fine."

As the words left her mouth, the hand resting on her waist tightened slightly.

It felt like a squeeze of dissatisfaction.

Only then did Willow realize that Julian’s hand was resting directly on her waist.

Coincidentally, the dance outfit she wore today happened to be a midriff-baring style.

The man’s warmth pressed against her skin, exceptionally hot and searing.

The heat spread from her waist all the way to her cheeks, making her feel incredibly uneasy.

"Uncle Julian," she took a few steps back to escape his touch, lowering her head and whispering, "I’m fine, I’m just hungry. I’ll go to the cafeteria to get some food. Please wait for me here."

Without waiting for Julian’s answer, Willow ducked into the changing room, quickly changed clothes, and headed for the cafeteria.

Julian watched her hurried departure, then looked down at his palm.

The smooth, silky sensation seemed to linger on his fingertips.

Slowly and persistently tugging at his thoughts.

...

Willow soon returned carrying two cups of porridge.

Seeing Julian waiting outside the door, she breathed a private sigh of relief.

For some reason, even though they could outwardly claim to be uncle and niece, she always felt guilty—as if getting even a fraction closer would allow someone to peek at that unspeakable night they shared.

"Uncle Julian," she held out one of the cups. "I bought one for you too. Thank you for coming to pick me up tonight."

Hearing this, Julian’s brow furrowed slightly.

He disliked how clearly Willow tried to settle accounts with him.

He spoke coldly: "I'm not hungry. You eat."

Willow withdrew her hand awkwardly.

She should have asked about his tastes beforehand.

At that moment, all she had been thinking about was escaping the situation.

Embarrassed, she inserted her straw and took small sips of the multi-grain porridge.

Once she finished the cup, Julian finally spoke: "Let’s go. The car is parked outside."

"Okay."

Willow habitually followed behind Julian, maintaining a distance that was neither too close nor too far.

It was nearly eight o'clock, and there weren't many people near the teaching building, but those passing by more or less cast their gazes toward Julian.

Some of the bolder ones let out soft gasps of admiration.

Willow kept her head down, not daring to cast even a single glance at the man walking in front of her.

She was terrified of people imagining things.

Amidst her trepidation, the man stopped in his tracks. His voice, carried by the cool early autumn breeze, reached her ears: "Come here."

Willow asked instinctively, "Where to?"

Julian: "Next to me."

Every fiber of Willow's being was resisting. she made up an excuse to decline: "I... I just like walking behind people..."

"I have something to ask you."

This time, his words carried the faint authority of an elder.

Willow didn't dare persist further and moved in small steps to his side. "Yes, Uncle Julian?"

Julian walked a few more steps before asking, "Who is this 'senior' you mentioned?"

"He’s a sophomore from our academy. The teacher asked him to guide us on our piece," Willow replied mildly.

She hadn't expected her uncle to be so concerned about her performance at school.

Should she clear up the misunderstanding about being "kept after class"?

Just as she was about to speak, the man spoke again: "Young boys are often glib-tongued and smooth-talkers; they aren't suitable for dating."

Willow was stunned.

It took her a moment to respond: "Uncle Julian, you only wanted to remind me of this?"

"Mm," Julian countered with a question, "Is there a problem?"

Willow shook her head.

No problem.

It’s just that these words... felt a bit "fatherly."

She promised: "Don't worry, Uncle Julian. I won't get into a relationship."