Breath fled her parted lips, and I captured them with mine. I kept them locked, unmoving, and just feeling long enough for some of the tightness to leave my chest and shoulders.
“Cookies,” she said, pecking me once before ducking beneath my arm.
Patience had never been my strongest suit, but I let her be. To help with that, I helped her and grabbed another tray and a spoon.
Once they were in the oven, I plucked an earbud from her ear and stuck it in mine.
Taking Back Sunday exploded when Fern hit play on her phone that was sitting next to the bowl on the countertop.
“Why do you listen to this song?” I had to ask.
She just grinned and sauntered out of the kitchen.
I gave chase, catching her in a fit of laughter in the living room and not letting go. “Tell me,” I said, hands stuck to her hips.
“You don’t need me to,” she whispered, throwing her arms around my neck.
Smirking with extreme satisfaction, I skimmed my lips over her cheek to whisper in her ear, “Dance for me.”
She hesitated, but when I kissed her mouth, each corner before opening it for our lips to slide over one another, she did.
Behind the couches, we rocked together, and I could hardly stand to quit her mouth long enough to breathe. So when her phone rang, killing the music but by no means my desperation, and she removed my arms from her body, I scowled.
She laughed, stabbing her phone at me. “It’s my mom. Keep an eye on those cookies.”
I was sure she’d set the timer, so I parked my ass on the couch with a glass of OJ and the game and waited.
And waited.
And then I caught a whiff of something burning.
“Fuck.” I launched off the couch and slid into the kitchen, grabbing the dish towel and pulling each scalding tray from the oven.
They were done for, and the floor above my head creaked, the sound of Fern’s muted voice evaporating.
“Shit,” I hissed, waving the towel over the smoke and switching the oven off.
“So he can cook lasagna, but he can’t pull a tray of cookies out of the oven on time.”
I glared, and she laughed. “They’re black,” she said, her forehead creased. “What did you do?”
My shoulders lifted to my ears as I slowly backed up. “I thought it’d be cool if they resembled my soul.”
She threw one of the rocks at my head. “There’s nothing wrong with your soul, Jude Delouxe.”
I ducked, and it hit the floor, splintering into hundreds of crumbs. “No?” I watched her prowl closer, waiting. Then I snatched her, making her smile soar into a grin. “We both know that’s not true.”
“Nightingale?” she pressed, her teeth denting her bottom lip.
“You should probably know.” I tugged it free. “There are two Judes, Red. The Jude from before, and the Jude you’re unfortunately stuck with.”
Fern shook her head, then bumped her nose into mine. “The old you didn’t exist. This is you, like it or not, and…” She smiled, her eyes bright and burning. “I happen to think I might just like it.”
“You like me?”
“I can like you and hate you at the same time.”
I pouted, then sighed. “Fair.”
She laughed, and I wanted to maul her on the spot, but after kissing her, I wondered if maybe she was right. If I’d always been this guy, and she was always meant to find me at my absolute worst, and I decided it was past time I earned something that’d been given to me.
Fern
I woke to find Jude asleep on my lap, and for the longest time, as the credits rolled on, I just stared. I stared, and I wondered how we’d gotten to this place of not just sharing a home, but living in it.
Movies, binging TV series, cooking, sometimes studying at the dining table after dinner… I wasn’t sure what to make of it all. I’d even arrived home from my afternoon class yesterday to the sound of a roaring lawnmower. I’d peeked out the back door and then traipsed onto the small porch to discover Jude in gym shorts, sunglasses, and nothing else, mowing the backyard. Since we’d moved in, I’d thought we’d hired someone to do that. I’d likely just missed seeing the beautiful sight until then.
I’d retreated inside, but not before he’d caught me spying on him. He’d puckered his lips at me, laughing when I backed into the screen door.
I was confused, but that confusion didn’t and couldn’t stop my instinctual response when it came to this man.
Even after all he’d done, I was so weak for him that it was disgusting.
That was what confused me the most. The shame and the want were constantly at war with one another, and I found myself so often thinking, just one more time, as though I were an addict swearing I would quit tomorrow.
But tomorrow still hadn’t arrived.
It’d been ten days since I gave him a forever lasting piece of me, and I’d started taking birth control. But although his bruising kisses and the rock-hard erection I so often felt told me he wanted to, he hadn’t been back for seconds.
Leaning down, I inhaled the dizzying scent of mint and cedarwood.
“Are you sniffing my hair?”
Okay, so perhaps he wasn’t asleep after all.
Turning in my lap, he narrowed sleepy eyes on my flaming face.
“Maybe.”
“Fear not, dear Red.” His wicked smirk had my stomach flipping so hard that I thought he’d feel the commotion against the side of his head. “I still haven’t let the housekeeper wash the bedding in the spare room.” His voice lowered as though he was sharing a secret. “Sometimes, I stare at it and grow hard in an instant at the reminder of what I stole from you.”
“That’s probably for the best,” I murmured, my chest crackling. “Bernie might get the wrong idea and wonder what kind of people we’re inviting into our home.”
Bernie was a sixty-year-old legend who stole into our two-story haven once a week while we were in school to clean.
Jude laughed, the sound silent but loud in those jade eyes. “We wouldn’t want to offend his sensibilities.”
“Absolutely not,” I laughed out while Jude grabbed the remote from his stomach and flicked over to the sports channel.
He seemed content to stay exactly where he was, and even though I kind of needed to pee, I didn’t want to move him off me just yet. “Why’d you quit football?”
His tone lost that playful edge. “Heard about that, did you?”
“I heard both you and Silas quit the team.”
Jude turned onto his side, facing the TV. “He didn’t quit. They kicked him off the team, and while our fathers could have him reinstated, he doesn’t want to be, and I’d rather go home and kick the ball around with my brother than add another thing to my to-do list.”
“You’d rather play soccer.” I’d often guessed at that.
“When I was a kid, soccer was everything. Then we moved here, and everything was football, so that’s what I did.” He yawned. “It doesn’t matter. My future isn’t sports, Red. We both know that.”
Saddened, I brushed my finger over the side of his face, tracing his hairline.
“When you touch me, it’s like you’re memorizing me.”