There is no other reason than that.
Okay, fine, maybe I wanted a reason to look at Jude without him being able to look at me. Crucify me for wanting to stare at the guy who kissed my knickers off the other day and hasn’t spoken to me since.
“You’re comfortable?” I place a blanket around Dad’s shoulders and make sure we both have an empty seat next to us.
Even though these matches feature players who will someday make it big, the town of Clavering and the residents within it have grown tired of them. Something is only exciting when you can’t have it much, and with the academy matches, the townspeople can have them all the time.
Come to think of it, that’s a great analogy about Jude’s fascination with me.
“Love, I’m just peachy.” He grins and pats the seat next to him for me to sit down.
I do, and immediately spot the boy, the one who’s been driving me stark raving mad, running around the pitch.
I’ve seen Jude practice before, have even seen him on television in some of the youth national team matches if my dad happened to have them on. But seeing him play right before my eyes? It’s … magical.
Jude Davies was made to gallivant around the pitch, leaving opponents in his wake. His body and movement are fluid as if gravity and the laws of physics do not apply to him. The way he juggles the ball, passing it through his teammates’ feet and past walls of defenders … Jude makes this look as easy as breathing. When in reality, I wouldn’t be able to accomplish that blindfolded with a gun to my head.
Watching him play is like glimpsing a solar eclipse; you realize this kind of talent only comes around every so often and you better risk the damage to your eyesight to see it.
“Blimey, that boy can play,” Dad whispers; just the act of viewing Jude on the field is akin to a religious experience.
I nod, not really talking to him, or anyone. “Yes, he can.”
The match is a complete blowout, with the other academy scoring no goals by the time the referee blows the final whistle. Dad cheers and claps along with the sparse crowd, and people begin to filter out of the small stadium.
When I look up from grabbing the small bag of supplies I brought with us in case Dad needed something, the one person I had been hoping to fully avoid is walking straight to us.
I wore a cap to hide my face, and Jude has never seen my father, so I’m confused about how he spots us so quickly. Or maybe he knew I’d been here the entire game … it would explain the four goals he scored. I mean … if I was even motivation for him.
“Aria, I didn’t know you’d be coming to this game.” Jude’s eyes fixate on me the minute he comes to the barrier of the stands.
Dad and I stand about four rows up, and one of the two security guards tasked with keeping this match civil is looking this way from the other end of the pitch.
My father eyes me as well, and when I look up at him, the irises that match my own are wide and curious. “You two know each other?”
I shrug, trying to play it nonchalantly. “We’ve bumped into each other on campus …”
As if it’s not a big deal that I haven’t mentioned I’m friends, or kissing mates, with the most famous English football prodigy in, well, history.
“Sir, it’s very nice to meet you.” Jude sticks out his hand for my dad to shake.
Dad takes it, stunned. “And you, as well. Hell of a match.”
Jude shrugs. “Eh, it was a friendly. We’ll have to get you two up to Wembley for a proper match.”
I swear Dad might have just swallowed his tongue. “That … I would be honored.”
“Consider it done.” Jude smiles kindly at him. “Can I steal you for a minute?”
This question is directed at me, and my stomach leaps into my throat. “We really should be getting home …”
Dad nudges me. “I can manage to get out of the stadium myself, and don’t argue with me, I’m only bloody walking. Promise there will be no cartwheels or one-legged races.”
I roll my eyes at him, but he continues. “Talk for a minute. I’ll just be right outside on the pavement waiting for you.”
And though I know I shouldn’t, I meet Jude down in the first row as he hops the barrier and takes a seat.
18
Jude
Two days.
That’s how long it’s taken me to decide that I don’t want to listen to anyone’s bloody rules.
Forty-eight hours are how long it’s taken me to realize that no matter the consequences that fall upon our heads, I want another taste of Aria.
In the time that I’ve laid my head down the past two nights, I’ve spent a majority of that pillow time thinking and deliberating what I should say to her. And knowing that she’s probably miffed that I went radio silent after I ran out on her in the tunnel.
When she sits next to me, her elbows crossing over her chest and unintentionally trussing up those perfectly round tits, it’s no mystery that she’s angry.
“I need to get back out to my dad, so what can I do for you this time, Jude?”
Ignoring her ire, I flash her a cheeky grin. “Wanted to see me play, huh?”
She glares. “I came because my father felt healthy enough to want to attend a match.”
I cringe for putting my foot in my mouth. “That was meant to make me feel like an arsehole, wasn’t it?”
“You’re not as daft as I thought,” Aria mocks.
“And you’re being cheeky because I didn’t get in touch after I said I would.”
She looks away as soon as I bring up the kiss in the tunnel, and now I really feel like a wanker. “You don’t need to patronize me, Jude. I’m not one of your kit chasers, or an international model waiting to grope your crotch.”
That has me swallowing a laugh because Aria has truly caustic humor but right now is not the time for a chuckle. “And I like you because of it.”
“Or in spite of it. Part of me thinks you only chase me around like you do because I’m a bit more of a challenge.”
“Give yourself some credit, you’re loads more than a bit of a challenge. And so what if I do like it? Why does a man enjoying a hard to get woman always have to be some big deal? I play games for a living, Aria, so I find excitement in them in my personal life. Doesn’t mean I won’t also enjoy it thoroughly when I catch you.”
A blush steals over her normally cream-colored cheeks. “Who says I’m going to let you?”
“Oh, let’s stop playing that game. No more sense in lying about how we feel … and no, I can’t believe those words just came out of my mouth.”
Aria looks up to the grey sky and laughs. “Is this a complete joke?”
“Huh?” I ask, confused.
She looks back down at me. “You’re Jude Davies. Freaking football star of our generation. You date models and party in Ibiza, and I’m … me. I have no time to kiss you in tunnels and yet all I can think about is that. And I’m not stupid enough to think that it meant a thing to you, but my God, don’t sit here and lie to my face.”
And now she has my heart softening. “First off, I only partied in Ibiza once and don’t remember it. Which scares me and I’ll never go back. Next, who cares who the bloody hell I am? I’m a man, a cocky, daft one usually. And yes, the kiss meant something, as much as it pains me to even talk about it. Because, no, I don’t care that I admitted it to you, but damn it, I really would just rather kiss you and shut your overthinking brain up.”
So that’s exactly what I do.
Grabbing her face, I pull her mouth onto mine and prove to Aria that the chase is so worth it. I kiss the girl until we’re breathless, until my lips chap from the cold and she’s trying to press her tits, the ones I desperately want my hands on, into my pecs.
She breaks off, heaving in lungfuls of air, her whiskey-colored eyes intense on mine. “My dad …”
Oh, right … her father is waiting outside the stadium for her. “Yeah, shite …”
But before I let her go, I’ve been mulling ove
r an idea for those two days that I just decided would be a wonderful one.
“My mates and I, Kingston and Vance, you might have seen them around campus? Well, Vance grew up in Brighton near the beach, and we have a short international break that lines up with classes being postponed. It’s in a week. Why don’t you come with us?”
Aria bristles. “As what? Your assistant? Or part of the posse of models you seem to travel with? Either way, the answer is no.”
My hands shoot out, ready to argue my point when Aria cuts me off before I can utter a word.
“Jude, I barely did anything last time. I can’t justify you paying me to sit around at matches and in hotel suites just because you have money to throw away and want a good laugh.”
I’m invading her space in two seconds flat. “I don’t want you to come along as my handler, Aria. Or even my assistant. I want you to come along as a girl I’m interested in.”
What is it about this girl that keeps pushing my buttons? For my sake, I should leave her alone. She bothers me in the best way possible, and right now, I can’t take that risk.
But, I should really leave her alone for her sake. Headmaster Darnot knows about London and the speeding incident and has threatened to issue her walking papers.
And yet … there that rush of carnal adrenaline comes. The one that wants to corrupt her, to show her what my world is like, to pull her down into the madness.
Aria’s blond hair whips in the wind, and I realize she might be cold. I can play in almost any condition, my skin having developed an extra layer with all these years on the pitch. But the most surprising realization that hits me is that, if I was wearing one, I’d offer her my coat.
“Even if that’s the truth, I can’t leave my dad.”
“I’ll have a nurse come in and check on him,” I offer immediately.
Those hazel eyes, flecked with streaks of gold gleaming in the brisk sunlight, tell me she’ll never go for it. “You know I won’t let you do that.”
“Yes, I know, but it was worth a shot.” I sulk.
“I just … I can’t leave him. He’s almost done with this round of chemo and it’s been brutal. But … I don’t want you to stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Chasing me.” Aria gives me a small smile.
And as we part, me hopping the barrier and her heading up the concrete steps to join her dad; I promise myself, and her, that I won’t.
19
Aria
“So, Jude Davies, huh?”
Welp, I should have known this was coming from the moment the academy’s football star approached us in the stands.
Dad sits in his recliner as I make dinner, chicken pot pie, the nightly news on in the background.
“What about him?” I answer, purposely turning to the stove so he can’t see my face.
Dad chuckles in the background. “I may be sick, love, but I’m not blind. The boy fancies you, and I’d say the feeling is mutual.”
“I’m glad you think you can read minds now. Is that a side effect of the treatments?” My response is cheeky.
“Aria, don’t avoid the subject.” He laughs.
I sigh, lining the pie tins with the pre-made crust I bought from the supermarket. When I’ve poured the mixture and set the timer for the oven, I place them inside and wander into the living room.
Sitting down on the sofa, I watch idly as the news anchor talks about the current currency calculations of the British pound.
“We’ve known each other for about two months. Honestly, at first, I told him to piss off. What I know of him is the stuff of tabloid legend and football fame … neither of which I have time for. But, as these kinds of boys usually do, he wore me down.”
“He was nothing but cordial at the stadium,” my father points out.
I raise an eyebrow at him. “He was trying to impress you.”
“Which is the sign that a boy likes your daughter. If he wasn’t interested in you in a real way, he wouldn’t have been bothered to meet me. That makes most men sound like scoundrels, but I know these things … I’m a former scoundrel.” Dad smiles proudly at me.
I pat his arm gently. “You’re too nice in your opinion of Jude … but yes, I’m starting to realize, unfortunately, his intentions might be genuine.”
“So, what is the problem, then?” Dad knows I’m not saying something.
When you grow up, as a female, with only your male parent as the voice of reason, reliability, knowledge, and everything else … there are some topics that get left off the table. Dating is one of them. I remember, when I broke up with my secondary school boyfriend, my dad was sick at the time but still trying to mask that he wasn’t scared out of his mind. He tried to talk to me about how I was feeling, and I shut myself in my room for three days, had a good cry, and told him never to mention it again.
Having him talk to me about Jude, when we’ve avoided the topic of my love life for so long, feels strange. But, I don’t really have any other friends, and I can’t tell Patricia and Louisa I’m flirting with an academy player, least of all Jude Davies, so I guess Dad it is.
“We come from massively different worlds. He has the universe on a string, and I live in the dumps of Clavering. Not to mention, I have to be here to help take care of—”
Dad cuts me off. “If you blame not dating the next superstar of the Rogue Football Club on me, I’ll throw this pot pie you just worked so hard on at the wall. Do you know how fast I’d give away your hand if Jude Davies asked?”
I know he’s only joking, but I’m not in the mood for sarcasm. “Har, har. Seriously, Dad, I have other things to worry about. And I’m not the type of girl to take charity from some footballer pretending to be my white knight. Lord knows if I give him that power, he’ll just abuse it.”
Dad holds his hands up. “I don’t want to venture into that territory.”
My face breaks out in embarrassed flames. “Blimey, that’s not what I meant! All I am trying to say is I crave independence and don’t want anyone else telling me how to live if I allow them to get to know me. Plus, the whole he’s an international playboy thing. I just … why me?”
Now he sighs. “I thought I built up your confidence sturdier than this over the years, surely. But I’ll tell you again so you hear me. Aria, you are one of the strongest, most intelligent, genuinely beautiful people inside and out that I’ve ever met. And that’s coming from someone who raised you, so I know I did a good job. Honestly, you remind me a lot of your mother.”
This is the first time he’s ever said that. “Which means that I’m predisposed to run away from someone I have feelings for.”
“You’re like her in the fact that you want more out of life. That you’re fiercely self-sufficient and don’t often ask for help. That your spirit carries you through tough times. But besides that, you’re all me, kiddo. You stay when the going gets tough, and that’s what counts. You have a heart wider than the English Channel, and you can identify those who mirror your kind of compassion. It’s why you’re interested in Jude; you can recognize that he is someone to take a chance on.”
His answer gives me pause, and I walk to the kitchen to decompress. After pulling the pot pie out of the oven and setting the table, I grab myself a rare glass of wine and put a glass of water out of for my dad. Dad turns off the TV and joins me at our small kitchen table, the one with a wobbly leg with a permanent book under it.
“He invited me to go to Brighton next weekend.”
“That will be fun, I love the beach, and the pier is neat.” Dad tucks into his pot pie and groans with satisfaction. “This is delicious, Aria.”
I take a bite of my own and commend myself for how good I’m getting at cooking meals. “Thank you. I told Jude I can’t go.”
Dad sets his fork down with a clatter. “Why would you do that?”
“For all the reasons we just talked about.”
“Aria, please go. You will never regret taking a chance on this boy, or this trip. It�
�s time that you stopped allowing me to chain you to this town. It’s time for you to spread your wings and experience what the rest of the world has to offer. You live just under two hours from Brighton, a brilliant little beach town, and you’ve never been. You’re going. I said so, and it’s final.”
No matter how much I argue with him, he’ll find a way to make me go with Jude next weekend. So for the first time in my life, I let someone tell me what to do, and just settle with that decision.
20
Aria
After finding Jude the day after the talk with my dad, I told him I’d be open to traveling to Brighton with him and his friends.
That earned me a salacious make-out session, one I was thankful we were in the tunnel for, and a pump of his fist that I’d actually agreed to go with him.
So now here I sit, in the back of a stretch Hummer limo with three strapping blokes, one of whom is currently trying to make me sit in his lap.
“Jude, stop it,” I hiss, swatting his hands away.
He shrugs those massive shoulders, trying to look innocent. “My mates don’t care, they’ve seen worse.”
Arching a brow, I look down the limo at Kingston and Vance. “And this is supposed to make me feel better?”
“That did sound pretty daft, mate.” Vance nods in agreement with me.
Kingston just looks confused, as if my refusal to sit in Jude’s lap is some weird gesture he’s never seen before. “I’m confused.”
“I can tell.” I chuckle.
“He’s just never seen a girl with a backbone before, it’s nothing personal.” Jude grins.
“Glad I can teach them, and you, what a real lady acts like.” Reaching into my bag, I pluck my headphones out and plug them into my phone, flipping through my music library after they’ve sealed me off from the world.
Jude slings his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side, which I guess is his consolation for me refusing to bounce on his lap the entire two-hour ride to Brighton. The sounds of Coldplay fill my ears, and I’m just about to close my eyes and nod into my first relaxing moment of the last year, when Kingston’s voice shouts over my music.
The Second Coming: Rogue Academy, Book One Page 8
