“Did you make any friends?” She took a sip of tea, still looking at me with that ghost of a smile.
I made a lot of enemies. “A few.” Lying shouldn’t come this easy.
“Did you see any familiar faces?”
My parents were pretty much the anti-fan of Jude. If they knew, they’d seriously consider pulling me out of Southpointe and bussing me to another school district or selling their internal organs on the black market to send me back to private school just to ensure I didn’t have to pass him in a hallway. While every other part of Southpointe blew, one very big part didn’t. Sure, I didn’t have, nor would I likely have any friends there, the curriculum was coursework I’d started in elementary school, and it was so old every hall, room, and wall smelt like an old gym bag.
But Jude was there. And somehow, nothing else mattered but that.
“Nope.” My voice broke, instantly alerting my mom. Okay, so lying wasn’t this easy. “I mean, it’s a big school. I’m sure they’ll be a few people I recognize eventually.”
“Hmm,” she murmured into her tea. She was up to something. I didn’t know what, but when any parent was “up to something,” it was never something good. “I could have sworn I saw a Southpointe bus stop at Last Chance Boys’ Home on my way to work.”
I wasn’t going to let her ruin my only bit of sunshine in that hell. “Is this the part where you’re waiting for me to reassure you that I really don’t mind—in fact it’s probably for the best—that I was pulled out of a private school my senior year because we’re broke, and I was tossed into some mega school that has metal detectors at every entrance?” I said, slamming my tea on the table. “Because maybe we can skip the BS and, for once, be honest with each other.”
She set her tea down, reaching for her temples. This was the first time mom had lowered her walls in ages; I didn’t know how to handle it.
“Have you heard back from Juilliard yet?” she asked, sounding weary.
I sighed, wishing I’d never applied in the first place. My self-confidence really didn’t need any more rejection. “Nope,” I said, trying to make it sound like I didn’t care, but darn it, I did.
I’d wanted to attend Juilliard before I could spell it. I was a dancer, it had defined my life since I could slip into my own tutu. I couldn’t imagine a better life than dancing across a stage in front of an audience until old age or weary legs stopped me, and Juilliard would give me that opportunity.
“It’s still early, Lucy,” she reassured, seeing right through my blasé act.
I lifted a shoulder. “We’ll see.” I’d applied to a few other state schools as a safety net, but they were just that. Only set to catch me if I failed at my goal.
Having had enough heart to heart for one day, I turned towards the stairs.
“Lucy?” I paused on the first stair, looking back. Mom was gazing at where my chopped hair curled over my shoulders. “How are you?”
After five years, she had to work harder than a cup of over-brewed tea and a few marginally concerned questions to earn the honest answer to that one. “Good,” I said, meeting her eyes.
“Really?”
Of course not really. I’d lost my entire family in the span of a day and had never gotten them back. And that was just the first link in the chain. “Really.” I moved up the stairs faster, but not quite fast enough.
“You know, Lucy, if you ever needed someone to talk to,” Mom’s voice trailed up the stairs, “I know I’d likely be dead last on that list, but I am here if you need me.”
I couldn’t have been more shocked if I’d looked down to find my legs had transformed into a mermaid tail.
“Uh,” I sputtered, searching for the right words. “Thanks, mom.” There, that worked.
Before any other transaction of the otherworldly could take place, I sprinted up the rest of the stairs and slid under my covers until I was dreaming about a boy with beautiful eyes and an ugly past.
Walking through the metal detectors on the second day seemed less outlandish, and the student’s stares that fell on me turned to smiles; a few even waved. By the end of first period, I was wondering if this was the same student body. Everyone greeted me in the halls, five people offered to let me borrow a pen in Trig when I asked, and one of Taylor’s apostles complimented me on my outfit choice. It was such a one-eighty from yesterday that either the entire student body had been lobotomized or Jude was a powerful player at Southpointe. A very powerful player.
I had my answer at the end of third period when I caught a glimpse of Jude walking down the hall a ways in front of me. The hall was packed, shoulder to shoulder, but wherever he walked, the crowd parted, like water breaking against an island.
I was so hypnotized watching him part the seas, I didn’t notice when a certain someone I’d been trying to avoid all morning nudged up against me.
“Hey, beautiful,” Sawyer said, tossing me a wink.
Oh, man. Did guys still get laid with this tired old line? If so, I’d bitch slap every last girl that fell for this one until I knocked some sense into them.
“Sawyer?” I said, glancing over. His high beam smile peaked higher. “Retire that line, will ya? It sucks.”
His face fell for the shortest window before it was back in all its Sawyer glory. “That was some assembly yesterday. Bound to go down in Southpointe history for sure,” he said, keeping pace with me as I sped up. I knew guys like Sawyer—they’d been a dime a dozen at my old school—and what didn’t work for me was that they were more boys than men, more talk than action. I was a man of action kind of girl.
“Yep, the trombone solo really kicked ass,” I said, playing dumb because I didn’t care and it was more fun.
Sawyer paused. I could see him scratching his internal head. “So you and Ryder, huh?”
Sawyer had bigger balls than I’d given him credit for. He was the first one to suggest Jude and I were an item in my presence. Gutsy given yesterday’s death threats. “We’re friends,” I said, trying to put some air between us so his shoulder wasn’t stroking mine every step.
“Friends?” he said. “Looked like more than that. It looked like something.”
I bit my lip before saying the first thing that came to mind. Just because I had a tendency towards anger didn’t mean I had to let my temper rule my life, although now was one of those moments I wished I’d let it off its leash.
“It’s nothing,” I said, ducking between a few students to get to my locker.
Sawyer glided up beside me. “Good,” he said, leaning into the next locker over. “That will make things easier when I take you to Homecoming.”
I don’t know how many revolutions I spun the combo on my locker, but it was more than ten and less than a hundred. The only thing worse than not having a date for homecoming would be having Sawyer as a date. He was the kind of guy that rented a hotel room before picking out a corsage and equated a lobster dinner with an all night sexathon.
“Let’s say I pick you up at eight?”
I didn’t know what day homecoming was, but I did know I didn’t want to go with him. I knew what I wanted to say to him in not so lady like language, but I didn’t know how to put my denial nicely. Couth had never been a strong suit of mine.
Giving up on my combo, I inhaled. “Sawyer,” I began, turning to face him. His face was so damn confident I was tempted to go with my “tell him off” version.
“Luce already has a date for homecoming.”
Jude sauntered up to us and squared himself in front of Sawyer. “Go find yourself another girl, Diamond. This one’s off the market and is smart enough to see through your shit even if she weren’t.”
Sawyer’s one hundred watt smile was long gone. Pushing himself off the locker, he stood toe to toe with Jude. “I thought you were just friends.”
“Well, you were wrong.”
“I figured as much,” Sawyer said, not turning and running as most people did when they found themselves up against Jude. “You’re not the ki
nd of guy that keeps girls as friends. Pardon me for mistaking Lucy as available. I didn’t realize you two had a friends with benefits thing going on.”
Without warning, Jude shoved Sawyer so hard he fell back into the herd of students making their way to class.
“Jude.” I threw down my bag and grabbed his arm, trying to pull him back, which would have worked if I could bench press a semi truck.
“Luce,” he breathed, glancing back at where my fingers circled his arm. “Let me go. I’m good.”
Only because I would have been useless had he wanted to turn Sawyer’s face into a punching bag, I did as he asked.
Striding after Sawyer who was struggling to right himself, Jude stood over him, his veins bulging in his forehead. “Listen to me, you pompous little jerk off, and listen damn good. You ever,” he spat, “EVER! so much as disrespect Luce in that way again, that will be the second to last breath you take because, so help me God, I will be so hot on your heels, you won’t know what’s coming for you until the devil’s checking your name off on that roll call sheet.” Everyone had stopped to stare at the three of us, but the only thing I was focused on was Jude. His anger was so intense, it was shaking every last part of him, but he managed to contain it. To keep it from doing what it did best. Hurt things.
“Now let me clear this up for you since you’re the dumbest piece of shit I’ve yet to encounter. Luce and I are friends. And I’m taking her to homecoming. And you will not insinuate, verbalize, or even think anything about her that is less than honorable. You got me?” Jude’s face was red, an inch above Sawyer’s, and the veins were bulging to the point of bursting. Sawyer was being a dick, yes, but you would have thought he’d just committed first degree murder from Jude’s reaction. I had to admit, as much as I trusted Jude, it scared me.
Shoving up off the ground, Sawyer met Jude’s glare. “I got you.”
“There’s a little bitch,” Jude said, patting Sawyer’s cheek. “Now get the hell out of here. Isn’t it about ass-slapping time in the locker room for you and your boyfriends?”
The two glowered at one another for another second before Sawyer looked back at me, where I was still glued to my locker. “Catch up with you later, Lucy.”
“Not if I catch you first,” Jude muttered after him, watching Sawyer until he disappeared around a corner.
The lookie-loos were dispersing, although a few hung around, hoping for some post game action.
“Scram,” Jude ordered, waving his hands at the stragglers. I hadn’t seen Olympians move that fast.
“So you’re taking me to homecoming?” I said, managing to get my locker open in world record slowest time.
“That’s right,” he said, spinning on his heels. His eyes were gleaming and his face was every plane of confident. It was damn sexy, but he couldn’t know I thought that.
“Don’t you think you need to ask me first?” I focused on exchanging third period’s books for fourth’s, although the corners of my eyes were burning from watching him.
He strolled up to me, getting so close I felt the heat pulsing from him. “Luce, will you go to homecoming with me?” His voice was soft, low. And that made me feel things I didn’t need to if I was going to make it to fourth period unflustered.
“I thought you wanted to keep up this whole friendship facade.” I wasn’t playing hard to get, I was making sure he really knew what he wanted. This was a guy that kept a note from his mom in his back pocket to remind him what happened when you let yourself love someone.
“I don’t give a damn about facades. I give a damn about people showing you some respect,” he said, heat burning in his words. “Come on, go with me.”
“I thought you didn’t do the whole flowers, date, girlfriend thing.” Zipping my backpack up, I slammed my locker and turned to face him.
“I didn’t,” he said, giving me that grin that could only mean he saw through me. “But I think you might have changed my mind on all that.”
My heart stopped and was doing a hand spring the next beat. “Is that a compliment?”
His gaze shifted to the ceiling. “You can take it however you want if you go with me.”
“Jude.” I rolled my eyes.
He knew he was wearing me down and at this stage, I was another cockeyed smile away from caving. He took this knowledge to his advantage.
Pressing himself against me, his hand found my hip. Backing me up against the wall of lockers, his other hand wandered up my arm until it molded around my neck. I went from being a young, marginally innocent girl who liked to dance to a woman with a one track mind. My whole body ached and, when his lips just brushed over mine, it felt like the ache was about to explode.
“Go with me,” he whispered, sucking at my lower lip.
He could have been asking me for my spleen and I would have agreed just as fast. “Okay.” I nodded, sounding as shaky as I felt.
Leaning back, his face was victorious. “So that’s a yes?”
“Jude,” I said in between trying to catch my breath, “that was a hell yes.”
Brushing a quick kiss into my cheek, he headed out into the hall. “It will be one hell of a night, Luce. I’m glad I’ll get to spend it with you.”
Homecoming with Jude Ryder.
There was so much wrong with that, it had to be right.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The rest of the week went surprisingly smooth and a daily pattern emerged. I got to school, Jude was waiting for me. I walked through the metal detectors, Jude walked me to class. I tried to make elementary coursework somewhat stimulating during class, and Jude made the five minutes walking between class over stimulating. I ate lunch with Taylor and her friends after she’d showered me with a hundred and one apologies and excuses, but my attention was focused on Jude, who sometimes spoke more in his silence than through his words.
He hadn’t tried to kiss me again, but I could feel when he wanted to, and I pretty much always wanted to, but he seemed insistent about keeping some distance between us. I wasn’t sure if this was just a show for Southpointe or if he’d decided I was more friend than girlfriend material. I would take Jude whatever way I could have him, but I’d prefer the option where I could kiss him whenever I wanted to.
“Can you believe this weather?” Jude greeted me, after nudging the student next to me off the bleachers. Looking at me, his eyes amplified before he suddenly looked away.
“No,” I chattered. “Could someone please tell the weather it’s still summer?” The rain had started first, then the wind, and then the fifty degree temperatures. In this part of the country, fifty was like below zero.
The crowd roared in anger abruptly, throwing popcorn and empty drink containers at the football field. It was Southpointe’s homecoming game and to say we were losing would be an insult to losers everywhere. We weren’t even on the scoreboard yet and the opposing team’s side of the reader board read forty-two points. And it was only the beginning on the second quarter.
“This sprinkle?” Jude said, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me against him. For some reason, warmth tingled down every part of me. “This is fine weather.”
I glanced up long enough to shoot him a quick glare. “Says the man who doesn’t own a garment unless it’s gray.”
“Are you implying something, Luce?” he asked, rubbing my arm hard.
“Who me?” I fluttered my eyelashes in innocence. “But why gray? Why not black? Isn’t that more your scene—more I-could-kick-your-ass-into-next-week?”
He bit his lip, trying not to laugh most likely. “Black absorbs all color, accepts them, takes them into it and let them define it. Gray isn’t anything but itself. It absorbs nothing but itself.”
This was clearly something he’d thought about. He didn’t wear gray because it was his favorite color; he wore it for a deep seeded philosophical reason. As I’d discovered this week, Jude was every kind of mystery that appealed to a woman and every kind she could never unveil. He was every enigma to which I wanted
the answer to.
Then, a gust of wind so nasty it shot needles into my cheek cut my thoughts short. I buried my head into Jude’s chest, cursing the weather under my breath.
“Didn’t you check the weather report?” Jude hollered over the wind.
I laughed. “Does it look like I did?” I was wearing cutoffs, sandals, and a shelf bra cami. A white shelf bra cami . . .
“Good thing I did,” Jude said next to me as an old blanket parachuted around me.
I sighed relief and embarrassment at the same time. I’d been so freaking cold I hadn’t had enough brain cells working to remember I was wearing white in a torrential downpour. Now all the wide grins around me of my male classmates made sense.
“Thank you,” I sighed, snuggling under his arm again as he turned me into a blanketed mummy.
“I could say the same,” he replied, giving me an ear to ear grin.
I elbowed him, weaving out of his embrace. However, the weaving didn’t work; he only held me tighter.
“I’m kidding, Luce,” he said, through his laughter. “But come on, you’re surrounded by a bunch of jerk-offs that have one thing on their minds at all times. Having an eyeful of you like that,” he said, eyeing below my neck, “is not good for our hearts or hormones.”
I don’t know if I’d ever achieved the level of red my face was at present. “And by jerk-offs, are you including or excluding yourself in that category?”
“After seeing you like that,” he said, droplets of water running down his face from his saturated beanie, “definitely including myself in the jerk-off category.”
I tried elbowing through the blanket, but he’d bound me up so tight I couldn’t move. I was powerless beside him.
“Isn’t royalty supposed to be down front?”
I scowled down to where eight guys and seven girls sat in saggy crepe paper decorated chairs, wearing crowns and holding wands or batons or something atrocious. When Taylor had come bouncing up to me after second to announce I’d been voted one of the two homecoming queens for the senior class, I wasn’t sure if shock or mortification was my first response. First, because I was all but certain Jude had threatened loss of limb to everyone who didn’t vote for me, and second, because I was anti all forms of voting the popular kids more popular. Homecoming royalty, prom king and queen, ASB, best looking, most likely to succeed . . . cue the finger in the mouth now. Those types of titles never went to anyone other than the top tier populars whose parents and grandparents and their ancestors had worn the same titles before them.
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