“No. But we can’t all be perfect like you, Jude Grayson.”
His dark eyebrows raised. “Perfect?”
“You know. Some of us have vices. Bad habits. Weaknesses. It’s called being human,” I informed him, with the confidence of someone who thought she knew way more about life than she really did.
He was only three years older than me, but surely he knew how little I really knew.
“You think I don’t have vices?”
I made a bitchy, skeptical sound.
“Cream soda,” he said.
“What?”
“Cream soda,” he repeated. “Got a major cream soda vice. When I feel shitty, I go straight for the cream soda.”
I stared at him. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Stupid, maybe,” he said. “But true.”
“Why cream soda?”
“Don’t know. Tastes good.” He was silent a minute. “Reminds me of summers when I was a kid, before my parents split up. Just tastes like memories.”
“Good memories?”
He shrugged. “Good. Bad.”
I considered that, looking him over. He was wearing a T-shirt under his Kings cut, and his muscled arms weren’t exactly dripping with fat. He didn’t look like someone who overindulged in cream soda. “You feel shitty a lot?” I asked, still skeptical.
“Not a lot. Sometimes.” His dark eyes narrowed at me a bit. “Everyone feels shitty sometimes. It’s called being human.”
I made another bitchy, unimpressed sound. I would never show him I was impressed with his anything. His cleverness, his muscled arms, whatever.
I was still kinda sore, maybe, that he’d kissed me at a party, once, and never tried it again. Even though it would’ve complicated things and I’d told myself it was Piper for me, not Jude… It felt like rejection, and I didn’t do so well with rejection.
“You know,” he said slowly, his dark eyes never leaving mine, “you’re a pretty girl, Roni, under all the makeup. Some girls aren’t. And you’re smarter than most people probably take you for.”
“Is that so,” I said, trying not to feel good about the compliments.
He nodded at the house behind us. “There’re weapons in this place, drugs…”
“Wait a sec,” I said, really cranking up the bitch, “are you talking Kings secrets with me? You know I have a vagina, right? Aren’t you worried they won’t patch you in if you go talking to me like that?”
“Not secrets,” he said evenly, still watching me. “All that shit’s out in the open, right on the coffee table.”
“So?”
“So, what are you doing here? You don’t need this.”
“Maybe I don’t,” I said. “Maybe I want it.” I stared at him, all seventeen-year-old attitude and defiance.
He stared right back at me with those hellfire eyes of his. That deep, molten brown, just watching me. He’d been watching me like that for a whole year. From a distance.
I told myself it was because he watched everyone like that.
But then he leaned in, just a little. All it took was a little; we were that close. I could feel his breath on my face. He paused, then touched his lips gently to mine.
And it was the softest, softest kiss.
Oh, damn… when had a man’s lips ever felt that soft?
It was exactly like I remembered it, like the first time he’d kissed me. His lips felt the same. I’d sometimes told myself I must’ve misremembered it, because no man kissed like that.
Jude did.
He also kissed in the most brutal, demanding, head-spinning way—but he wasn’t doing that now.
He was waiting, maybe. Waiting for me to kiss him back.
I didn’t. Instead I pretty much froze.
It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know he had the world’s worst timing, that his brother had just screwed me in the kitchen and I didn’t want to be kissed by anyone right then. I knew he didn’t know about that, because if he knew, he wouldn’t be okay with it. I really wasn’t sure how Jude felt about me, but I knew he wouldn’t be okay with that.
And he definitely wouldn’t be trying to kiss me right now.
He stopped and I drew a shaky breath, shook my head just a little… No.
He pulled away.
His fire-and-brimstone eyes burned into me for a minute.
I wanted to say something, to… explain? To let him know that it wasn’t a forever no, just a right now no. But I didn’t know what to say.
Sorry, your brother already hit that, and I’m not in the mood?
I’d never felt such shame as I did right then, sitting there next to Jude, unable to speak.
He looked away. He took a drag off the joint, tossed it down and crushed it with his boot.
“Go home, Roni,” he said.
Then he went inside the house.
And since there was no way I was going back inside that house, I went home.
Soon after that party, Jessa’s mom died.
Jesse had planned to take guardianship of her; that’s what she always said. But when the time came, he was so busy with Dirty that it was decided he couldn’t provide a “stable home” for his sister. So Zane’s grandma, Dolly, got guardianship instead and Jessa moved in with her.
I didn’t mind; Dolly’s house was actually closer to mine.
Dirty brought in one more member, a rhythm guitarist and songwriter named Seth. Jessa told me that Seth had been more or less homeless, just kinda couch surfing, when Zane met him. He started crashing in Dolly’s garage, where the band rehearsed, on and off.
Jessa had taken her mom’s death hard; I totally knew she had, even if she wouldn’t talk about it much. She wrote a lot, but she never let me read anything she wrote, either. She started spending a lot of time with Seth, hanging out with him in the garage, even when the rest of the band wasn’t there, and they started writing songs together.
Then Dirty moved their stuff out of Dolly’s garage. They got a bigger, more professional rehearsal space, a room in a building that rented out to bands. They were playing more clubs, getting paid better, and starting to play original songs, not just covers.
Everyone knew there was something special about this band.
I went to as many shows as I could get into. I also hung out at rehearsals when Jessa brought me, and when I was there, I often saw Jude.
Sometimes I sat with Jude, listening as the band practiced some new song. We talked about what we thought about the songs and applauded when required, went outside to smoke up together, and hung out.
Over time, we developed an easy, teasing banter that I came to crave. I looked forward to it. I looked forward to our moments together.
I thought he did, too.
On those days when I knew I was going down to the rehearsal space or going to some party or show where Dirty was playing, my footsteps got just that little bit lighter. Life seemed just that little bit brighter.
Sometimes, at parties, Jude sought me out and hung out with me, talked to me. Other times, he didn’t come over, but he always said hi. He always acknowledged me. He always seemed to have an eye on me. He even smiled at me, sometimes.
So unlike his brother.
Piper had gone back to forgetting my existence, about two seconds after he’d pulled out.
Jude treated me with respect, kindness if not warmth, and a reserved sort of affection.
But he never even tried to kiss me again.
I kept seeing other guys. But it never felt like it did with Jude. More and more, I had a better time just talking to Jude than making out with whatever guy I was seeing.
Eventually, I started talking to him about the guys I was seeing. He listened. He didn’t always say much, but he listened.
And somehow, he became this anchor point in my life. This stable place where I could ground myself and find true north, no matter what drama was going on at home or with the guys I was dating.
I always knew what I was going to ge
t with Jude. He always treated me the same. He wasn’t hot and cold like some guys were. He was never too busy for me if I wanted to talk to him. He never denied me if I asked him for a joint. He never looked down on me. He never brushed me off to go talk to some other girl.
There were other girls. I saw him with them.
But he never treated me like I was lesser than.
With Jude, there was no drama.
I’d had plenty of sex. I’d dated plenty of guys, both boys and men.
I’d never really felt like someone cared about me like he did.
The thing was, I didn’t realize that care was missing until I felt it coming from him. And it wasn’t just pretty packaging to deliver his dick to me in. He never even tried to get in my pants.
Never.
At some point, it became clear to me that Jessa, who’d never been into pot, was smoking up with Seth. I knew she’d been sneaking out to see him, going to parties, and I figured they were screwing around. Drinking. Whatever. Seth was hot, so I was happy for her. Until I found out she was smoking up. It just seemed odd to me. She’d never been into it, had been scared of it, I thought, and wouldn’t do it with me.
But she was doing it with Seth.
I asked her if she was screwing him.
She said no.
But she kept hanging out with him—a lot more than anyone else knew. She said her brother would disapprove and it would cause drama with the band. So I kept her secrets.
Often, I covered for her.
I lied to her brother for her.
And I chatted up Jude at parties to distract him, throw him off her scent.
Sometimes it didn’t work. Sometimes maybe it did. It was hard to know with Jude. He would give me his attention, even his undivided attention, even at crazy parties and even when he was working. But he never let me in on his secrets, and I was pretty sure he never would.
I figured that out about him early on.
And then I noticed, one night, when he was looking for Jessa at a party and he said to me, “Let me know before you leave,” that he’d started looking out for me, too, the same way he looked out for her.
And I liked it.
I’d never had a man look out for me before. My mom’s string of useless boyfriends definitely never cared that much.
“I will,” I promised him.
That night, he walked me out to my mom’s car. He gave me that bouncer stare-down of his, like he was making sure I wasn’t gonna cause trouble. “You been drinking?” he asked me.
“Nope,” I said. “I never drink and drive.” I didn’t. He knew that by now.
He still stared me down.
Then he opened the car door for me and when I was inside, he said, “Drive safe, V.”
No one called me V. Only him.
I drove home with a weird buzzy feeling in my chest. The truth was I had a mad crush on Jude, even though I didn’t want to admit it to myself.
Partly because of the Piper thing. I had no idea if Jude knew or didn’t know what had happened between me and his brother in that kitchen, and if he did, I was afraid how he might feel about it—and about me.
And partly because he just kept hooking up with other girls—women—at a lot of those parties I saw him at, and never made a move on me.
Which made me wonder if I should really be so happy to be treated like Jessa after all.
Did he see me as another little sister type? Because no way would Jude ever make a move on Jessa Mayes. He called her bratface, for fuck’s sake.
Less than a week later, Dirty left town on their first official tour.
They were going across western Canada and down through the western States in an old bus, playing clubs and a few festivals. Just the band, Brody, Jude and a couple of crew guys they’d brought on for the tour. The day they rolled out, I went by their rehearsal space to see them off.
Well, to see Jude off.
When I got there, the bus was parked outside, already loaded up and ready to go. Jessa wasn’t there; for some reason, she didn’t want to come with me to say goodbye.
I glimpsed Jesse disappearing up the steps into the bus, and from the noise coming out of it, I assumed most of the guys were already onboard. The only people who weren’t on the bus yet were Brody and the two crew guys; they were talking over by the bus.
And standing there on the curb at the edge of that parking lot, I felt hopelessly insecure in a way I didn’t often feel. I didn’t know the crew guys, I had no idea what Brody thought of me, and I wasn’t sure they’d even tell me if I asked where Jude was.
But then I saw him coming out of the building, locking up the door behind himself.
I just stood there, watching him, unsure of what to do.
He started across the parking lot toward the bus, but then he saw me and halted. He turned and walked toward me instead, a slight smile pulling at his full lips.
He had a few days’ dark stubble and wore a sleeveless hoodie over a long-sleeved shirt and loose-fit jeans. It was nice to see him out of his Kings cut. He wore it a lot those days, part of his duty as a prospect.
It was a spring morning, kind of chilly and dewy, and I was cold in my short skirt. But when Jude’s gaze dropped to my bare legs for a moment, it was worth it. He rarely checked me out like that.
Or at least, I rarely caught him checking me out like that.
“What’re you doin’ here?” he asked when he got close, but he didn’t seem unhappy to see me.
I smiled. I couldn’t help it. “Just wanted to say goodbye.” He looked so cute, kinda cuddly in his hoodie, his dark hair a little sexy-messy in that Jude way of his, and I felt weirdly nervous standing there with him.
Nervous that I wasn’t good enough for him, for this part of his world.
I held up the stupid can of cream soda I’d brought because I knew he liked it. “I brought you this.”
He took it and smiled, his dimples popping.
“I mean, I hope you don’t feel shitty… but just in case.”
“Thanks, V.”
Then he leaned in to hug me.
I bit my lip and my knees kinda quivered as he slipped his arms around me. Since I was standing on the curb, his face was close to mine. He looked so, so handsome, I was just staring at his face and kinda bumped my nose clumsily against his cheek. I hugged him back, awkwardly. But with the heat of his body and his soft clothes wrapped around me, I softened into it. I clung to him, tight.
And a wave of emotion rolled through me, so strong, I bit down on my tongue and squeezed my eyes shut.
I was surprised, maybe, by how sad I was to see him go. Maybe I was a little sad he wouldn’t be around to look out for me anymore. But more than that: I was going to miss him—like crazy.
I’d miss hanging out with him. I’d miss our talks. I’d miss his brown eyes, his watchful gaze, his abrupt, reluctant chuckle. I’d miss making him laugh. I’d miss flirting with him and just feeling safe with him.
I’d miss looking forward to seeing him.
I had never had such a long friendship with a guy before, any guy, and not had it turn sexual. Usually, they turned sexual pretty much right out of the gate.
This one hadn’t.
His arms loosened around me and he drew back a bit, and when I looked up at his face again, his eyebrows drew together. He was looking into my eyes… and then he was looking at my mouth.
And then he kissed me.
His lips brushed mine, dragging my bottom lip down, and I gasped, surprised that it wasn’t just a platonic kiss… My lips parted to meet his as he crushed his mouth down on mine. His tongue moved between my lips; I lapped my tongue against his, and as I tasted his wet warmth, that unique Jude taste of his, I felt it all the way to my toes. I arched into him and he held me, gripping my waist as I teetered on the curb, his can of cream soda digging into my back.
And I realized, dazedly, as he kissed me, that it wasn’t that our relationship wasn’t sexual. Just because we’d never had sex d
idn’t mean it wasn’t intensely, deeply sexual.
With that kiss, he taught me things I’d never understood.
Made me wonder things I’d never thought to wonder about.
He made me want him.
He made it stunningly clear to me how much I needed him in my life.
Whether he knew it or not, with that kiss, Jude Grayson was taking another little piece of my heart.
“Don’t go.” The words whispered out of me, powerless, when the kiss was over. I knew he had to go, but I said it anyway.
He just stared at me with that steady, dark look of his. “I have to go, V.” Then he kissed me again, on the forehead this time, lingeringly. “I’ll be back.”
Then he turned and left without looking at me again. In the moment, it felt like rejection. Later, I would tell myself, over and again, that it was because it was just too hard for him to look at me and have to walk away.
We were friends. I knew he cared about me.
But I never knew if he needed me like I needed him.
He had his brother. He had lots of brothers, really. He had Jesse. He had the band, his other friends.
I’d never had a sister or a brother, and I’d never had a friend like him.
Somewhere along the way, I’d come to realize that not only had Jude become my friend… he was, kinda sadly, the best friend I’d ever had.
That, and as I stood there watching him get onto that tour bus, I knew I’d gone and totally fallen for him.
Chapter Twelve
Jude
“We’ve got your package,” Con told me when I picked up the phone.
I really should’ve been happier to hear those words.
“Fuck.” I stood in my bedroom, leather jacket in hand. “That was fast.”
“You wouldn’t believe how easy this shit was, brother. Kid is not smart.”
I glanced at the time on the clock by my bed. Fucking 7:17 pm. “What’s your ETA?”
“’Bout an hour.”
“Meet you there.”
I hung up.
Fuck was right.
I’d just gotten out of the shower, put on a snug black sleeveless shirt, a pair of jeans that Katie had recently informed me made my ass look “smackable,” and some cologne… Way too much effort for the guys I was now about to spend the evening with.
Dirty Like Jude: A Dirty Rockstar Romance (Dirty, Book 5) Page 13
