by Anthology
Well, now he felt awkward. Jude focused on his meal and scooping up some peas with his fork.
"It's fine, really." Brody must have sensed how awkward Jude felt about asking. "So, tell me," he asked in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood. "What's a guy to do in Stratford?"
"I'm stuffed," Jude groaned as he leaned back. Soothingly, he rubbed his hands over his stomach. He loved pub food. Rolling his head to one side, he stared at the back of the dessert menu. There was no room for pudding, he decided sadly as he eyed the picture of a slice of chocolate fudge cake. Curling his fingers in the material of his T-shirt, Jude looked across the table at Brody. He looked even more amazing in the moody lighting of the pub than he did outside in the bright sunlight.
Brody sighed as he pushed his plate forward and rested his elbows on the edge of the wooden table. He watched Jude pat his stomach before meeting his eyes in a suggestive gaze. "Are you doing anything tonight?" he enquired. "I mean…" He lowered his head and looked down at the table top. "I haven't really met anyone I can just hang out with." Was he blushing? "Maybe we could go for a drink? No strings attached." He looked innocently at Jude. "I promise."
The offer was tempting. Jude couldn't remember the last time he'd had a drink with someone and not had it turn into some kind of drinking game or wake the next morning to find a traffic cone in the front room. He considered the man sitting opposite him. What was the worst that could happen? "Okay. I'd like that."
"Great. How about eight? I'll pick you up."
Maybe that wasn't a great idea. He'd never hear the end of it from his housemates if a guy came around for him. "No. It's okay. How about we meet back here?" The pub was easy enough to find.
Brody's lips curled as he met Jude's eyes. "Sounds perfect."
Chapter 2
What was he doing? Brody rubbed a hand over his face and took a deep, calming breath. He was a grown man of twenty-six years and he was standing here like some frightened teenager with a promise ring. It was a couple of drinks with a cute guy. It should not be this big a deal. Awkwardly, he fumbled with the collar of his shirt, unfastening the top button as he sought to free himself from the restricting material. He needed to relax.
Brody looked across the street at the pub and distracted himself for a moment by considering the old building. If he'd never been inside he would already know what to expect. The outside was as full of character as the inside. The black and white timber-frame building encapsulated everything the Shakespearean town had to offer. The pub exuded history, and promised stories of times long-past. He breathed in deeply as he looked over the front of the pub and thought about the guy waiting inside. For the first time in a long time he could feel the spark of real inspiration at the base of his skull. He had to admit it felt good.
The time was already well after eight, and he knew he should be in there, talking and drinking with the guy. But a couple more minutes wouldn't hurt. There was something he needed to do. From the back pocket of his jeans he pulled out a small notepad. He carried it with him for occasions like this when ideas just happened to flow.
He thumbed through the thin sheets of paper until he found what he was looking for. Words written in pencil spiralled around the edge of the page. He read the words he'd jotted down three days earlier before he'd ever met a guy called Jude Jennings. He hadn't realised at the time just how the lines sounded. Were things really that bad?
Slowly, he drew a line through the curl of lonely-sounding words and then scribbled down what was in his head. Already, the lines echoed something better—his hopes and his dreams. He really felt like nothing could touch him here and almost dared to believe everything would be okay again.
Satisfied with what he'd written, Brody slipped the notepad back into his pocket. He hadn't been sure at first, but now he was certain coming to the UK was the best thing he could ever have done. Things had slowly gone from bad to worse at home—his father, his brother, his life. When had things become so complicated? He rubbed at his temple and was surprised to see Jude stepping out of the pub entrance. Was he that late?
"Jude," Brody called out and quickly checked for traffic before jogging across the street. He smiled as he reached Jude's side. "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to keep you waiting." Damn, Jude looked all kinds of hot. He really shouldn't have kept him waiting. "Is it too late for that drink?" He looked at Jude hopefully.
The glorious day had turned to a cooler night and Jude pulled his lightweight jacket more tightly around him. He pursed his lips, looking annoyed as he considered Brody's question. "I thought maybe you'd changed your mind. You didn't pick up when I called."
Brody instinctively reached for his jacket pocket and circled his hand around his cell phone beneath the material. He had forgotten he'd turned it off while avoiding his brother's calls. "I'm really sorry." He pulled out his phone and turned it on, silencing the ring tone before slipping it back into his pocket. "I kind of needed some time to myself earlier. Nuisance caller."
Jude looked at him. It was obvious he wanted to ask. "My brother. Family stuff." The explanation was vague but hopefully enough to satisfy Jude's curiosity. He sighed and looked back at the pub. Even now, despite being thousands of miles back home in Connecticut, Douglas was still cock-blocking him. "So that drink?" Please say yes. He really needed this.
Jude gently brushed his dark auburn bangs from his forehead. His hair was a rich mixture of browns and reds accentuated beneath the orange glow of a streetlamp. The colour really was beautiful. "Okay. But can we go somewhere else?" He pushed his hands into his jacket pockets.
"Is everything okay?" Brody asked. Jude looked tired as his shoulders slumped and he lowered his head.
"Yeah." Jude looked behind him and eyed the heavy wooden doors of the pub. "I'm fine. It's just there was this rather drunk lady at the bar and she started coming on to me." He laughed and appeared to relax. "Seriously, she was like forty or something and she wasn't wearing a bra. She was kind of scary."
Brody was relieved when Jude's eyes brightened and his features softened. He hadn't blown it after all.
"Just the thought is scaring me," Brody said with a laugh and met Jude's grey-blue eyes. He hadn't realised how young Jude looked for twenty-three. There was a sweet innocence about the guy, and Brody was now noticing the faint spatter of freckles across Jude's nose and cheeks. Whether it was just the light, Brody wasn't sure, but he couldn't keep his eyes off the guy. Jude was a handsome young man, and from what Brody had seen, he had a personality to match.
There was an awkward silence and it was not until Jude spoke that Brody realised he'd been staring. "There's a pub by the river. The Dirty Duck. We could go there." Jude shrugged his shoulders and shifted from foot to foot. He looked cold.
"Okay," Brody said.
"We can have a couple of drinks and maybe talk some more." Jude turned and indicated the direction out of town and toward the river.
Talking—Brody wasn't really a fan. He preferred to write things down and wrap his feelings in intricate words and verses. His journals and notebooks had always been his favourite place to hide since childhood. "Sure," he finally said and matched Jude's stride as they started to walk. He smiled as they bumped shoulders.
Jude was an inch or so shorter than Brody—five-ten, slim-build, and dressed to accentuate all the right places. His jacket hung just above his ass, which appeared firm and round through the figure-hugging, skinny jeans he wore. Brody chewed on his lip and averted his gaze when Jude caught him staring. He really shouldn't be looking, and yet he knew there was no harm in it. It was rather freeing.
"So," Jude started as he tried to fill the walk with conversation. "Did you get up to much this afternoon?"
Brody simply shrugged. He wasn't sure where the day had gone after leaving Jude at around two that afternoon.
Jude continued, "I made a start on the photos from today. There were some pretty amazing shots. I'm thinking of using them in the final project."
"That's great."
Brody hoped he came across as interested, because he really was. Smiling, he briefly met Jude's eyes. They shone with enthusiasm. "I'd love to see them when you've finished."
"Of course," Jude agreed and quickly looked away. "There are a few shots of you among them." He stopped as he checked for traffic, before stepping out on the road.
He liked that Jude had chosen the photographs of him. He watched Jude for a moment and decided he needed to ask a question. "Do you have a partner?" He probably should have asked earlier, but the way Jude looked at him sometimes, he suspected he already had his answer.
"You mean a boyfriend?" Jude said, and met Brody's eyes.
Brody nodded.
Jude shook his head. "No. Nobody like that. I was seeing a guy last year, but it only lasted a couple of months."
"Oh. Any reason why?"
Jude quirked his eyebrow at the question. "He didn't like my third nipple," Jude said straight-faced, though it didn't last. Laughing, Jude shrugged. "I don't know really. It just didn't work out. He enjoyed playing the field far too much." They turned a corner and headed down an adjacent street. "I didn't mind. Still plenty of time to find that special someone, right?" He looked at Brody. From the look in Jude's eyes Brody knew he wanted to ask Brody the same question.
"Have you lived in Stratford long?" Brody asked, steering the conversation away from men he may or may not have dated.
Jude nodded, though he seemed disappointed at Brody's abrupt change of subject. "Yeah," he said. "My parents only live fifteen minutes down the road." He looked at Brody and narrowed his eyes. "Why did you ask?"
"Ask?"
"If I had anyone? Do you have someone?" He pursed his lips thoughtfully as if he were trying to figure Brody out. "Because if you do, I can't do this—"
"Oh, God, no," Brody quickly jumped in. "No. There's no one. Honestly. I just…" He lowered his head. It was for his own peace of mind he had asked.
Jude was a good-looking guy and there was something incredibly charming and appealing about him. Brody was halfway to smitten. He just wanted to be sure there wasn't a reason they couldn't do something more than just have a drink. Granted, he had said no strings attached, and maybe it was just the old-English magic of Stratford, but he was finding it difficult not to just grab Jude and pull him into a kiss.
"Okay then," Jude concluded and stared up at the theatre as they passed. "You said you write?"
Brody joined Jude in looking at the lit building. The theatre had a grand feel about it. "Yes. Sometimes."
"So are you a fan?" He nodded toward the building and smirked. "Willy's big in the States too, right?"
"Willy?" Brody laughed. "I guess he is." He grinned as they continued to walk. "Plus I am a bit of fan. He wrote some amazing pieces."
Jude glanced toward Brody before shying away. "Do you have a favourite?"
A favourite? That was hard. "I like his plays, especially his comedies. A Midsummer Night's Dream, Much Ado About Nothing, The Taming of the Shrew, and Twelfth Night. Mistaken identities and mix-ups."
"Not Romeo and Juliet then, huh?"
Brody sniffed a laugh. "Not so much. It's truly a great story, and I loved the version Zeffirelli directed. But I prefer the twists and turns of his other plays. I kind of like it when things work out." They stopped outside a large white building and Brody smiled as a breeze carried the faint smell of alcohol and food toward them.
"So you're more an All's Well That Ends Well kind of guy?" Jude said.
Brody guessed he was.
"Okay, what would you like to drink?"
Brody followed Jude inside the pub. "A Bud or something," he requested as they made their way to the bar. He hung back slightly and for the second time that night he found his interest fixed on the way Jude's ass looked in his jeans. It was then he began to wonder what Jude's ass might look like when not concealed behind the tantalising layer of material. Now that was a thought and he could feel the sparks of interest heading to his crotch. He then realised he didn't feel guilty about what he felt. He didn't feel guilty for thinking about a man the way he'd just thought about Jude. That had to be progress, right?
"What are you having?"
"Probably a pint."
Pulling out his wallet, he offered Jude a twenty pound note. "Get two. They're on me."
"You don't have to pay," Jude said as he eyed the money.
"I thought you were a poor student," Brody reminded him.
Jude sighed and folded his arms, resting his elbows on the edge of the bar. "Well, yes. But it doesn't mean you have to pay. You bought lunch."
He had, hadn't he? "I was glad of the company."
He really was. Sure, he had come to Stratford to find himself, but it didn't mean he had to do it alone. After being in Stratford for a week, it was about time he found himself some company, maybe a friend. He looked at Jude. Hell, maybe something more than a friend.
"You shouldn't have to pay for company," Jude said and grinned as he took the twenty. "That's a whole different kind of company."
It took a moment for Jude's comment to click. "I think a hooker would be cheaper," he said without thinking. "Sorry. I just meant—" He shut up. What the hell was he saying? "I don't expect anything like that," he added.
Jude smirked. "Now I'm kind of disappointed," he teased as a tall, blonde appeared in front of them. "Two pints of Abbot."
Brody watched Jude as he chatted to the barmaid. Talking and interacting with people wasn't really Brody's thing, and now he was confused. Had he offended Jude? And if he had, was it the suggestion of him being a hooker, or not, that had offended him? He continued to watch as Jude exchanged flirty comments with the barmaid. He made it look incredibly easy.
Movement against his hip surprised him and he reached in his jacket to retrieve his vibrating cell phone. Douglas must have a sixth sense. Every time he managed to relax, there Doug was. He stared at his older brother's name. He should have left the damn thing off. He held his thumb over the screen, hovering above the connect call button. What if something was really wrong? Shit, he should get this. Turning his back on Jude, he answered. "Doug?" he said.
"Why are you ignoring my calls?" If it had been anyone else, Brody might have appreciated hearing a familiar voice. Despite everything, he missed home.
"I'm not. It's not a great signal out here," he lied. He could have sworn he heard Douglas tut. "Is everything okay?" He wasn't up for general conversation. Once he knew everyone at home was safe and well, he was ending the call.
"Do you really want to know?"
He didn't want an argument. Not now. "Of course I do. Despite what you think, I do care. Is Dad doing okay?" A month ago their father had taken a fall. The hospital suspected it was his heart, brought on by stress and one too many days at the office.
"He and Mom went to the lake house for the week. I had to pretty much drag him from behind his desk. The man just won't quit." There was an uncomfortable silence. Please don't say it. "But then maybe he could if he knew the company was in good hands."
He did not want to discuss this again. "Douglas, it is in good hands. Your hands."
"You know it would mean a lot to him if both his sons were running things. Maybe then he would listen to the doctors and start to back off. He's doing too much." Douglas fell silent. What did he want Brody to say?
"I know. But we've talked about this. I just can't do it right now. There's other stuff and…" He pressed his hand over his other ear. The pub was filled with chatter and it was hard to hear his brother. "I just need to be here. You get that, right?"
"I'm concerned, okay? You flit from one job to the next, isolate yourself from everyone, and sit writing God knows what. And now you run off halfway across the world, barely say a word to anyone, and you think no one wonders what's up with you?"
Brody's shoulders slumped as Douglas continued his reprimand.
"I get things are complicated. But running away won't solve anything. Come home, Brody."
"I can't. Not yet
." Things weren't right. Both he and Doug knew that. He was tired of acting like everything was okay and he was happy. He couldn't pretend he was that person anymore—straight.
"Where are you anyway?" Douglas suddenly asked. "Are you in a bar?"
Brody shifted his weight and held his cell tightly to his ear. "Yes."
"And are you with someone?"
Brody considered lying, but he couldn't hide the truth from his brother. "Yes."
"Unbelievable. I'm working my ass off and now you decide to go chasing after some dick?" Douglas said sharply. He sounded angry, but then he always sounded angry.
Phillips and Chaney Freight Shipping was a multi-million, if not billion, dollar company, hauling goods throughout Connecticut and at least three other states. But that was Doug's thing, not Brody's.
Brody took a calming breath and focused on the first part of what Doug had said. "That was your choice, Doug."
"And it should have been yours."
And there it was again—guilt. Every time the argument was the same. It didn't matter what the conversation started out as, it always came back to the fact that Brody got out and their father let him. He didn't have the passion for business like Douglas, and their father knew that. Brody knew his father was disappointed, but the old man accepted Brody was more like his mother than any CEO or a company director. His heart lay elsewhere.
Brody glanced over his shoulder; Jude was collecting his change from paying for the drinks. "I have to go," he said. He knew he sounded defeated. He could already feel the shame of what he was doing, and how he felt about Jude, creeping into his gut. He shouldn't feel as bad as he did.
"Of course you do."
Brody pushed his cell phone more firmly to his ear. "Say hey to everyone for me, okay?"
"Sure," Douglas said and hung up.
Brody closed his eyes as the call ended. A mixture of emotions churned inside him as he raised his hand to his mouth. He had been okay, happy even, and now shame and disgust had filtered back into his head. Douglas hardly needed say anything anymore to obliterate any self-confidence Brody had.
