The Dating Series

by L. P. Dover

  “I’m not,” I say with all certainty. “I should’ve filed for divorce a lot sooner.”

  Jude looks down at his coffee. “I knew he was wrong for you.”

  I just hate it took me forever to figure that out. “What about you?” I ask, glancing quickly at his left hand. There isn’t a wedding band in sight.

  “Well,” he begins, leaning over on his elbows, “I was engaged for a while, but it didn’t work out.” When his eyes meet mine, I tremble. He gives me a sad smile and says, “I didn’t have that connection with her.”

  A moment passes between us and I don’t know what to say. I know what connection he’s talking about. Shawn and I never had it. I thought I loved him, but there was always something missing. The only person I’ve ever had a connection to was with Jude. I trusted him completely and he never let me down. He was the only person who ever kept his word, and here I am… a crappy friend.

  “Any kids?” Jude asks, lifting his cup to his lips.

  I shake my head. “Nope. Shawn never wanted any. Guess it’s a good thing because I have a lot of money saved up. I probably wouldn’t if we had kids.” I hold up a hand. “However, I might have to include my sister as a kid. She’s here in Boone. The girl’s been dying to get me in her sorority.”

  “What?” he gasps, almost choking on his coffee. “I can’t believe she’s here. Does she still want to marry me?”

  We both laugh and I think back to those days when Anna would convince him to play tea party with him. She would always tell me she was going to marry him some day. I can’t wait to call her and tell her I had a coffee date with her future husband.

  “I’m sure she’s moved on,” I tell him. “But if you must know, she gave me hell for what happened between us. She’ll be happy to know you’re here.”

  Jude smiles. “The better question is what are you doing back here?”

  I finish my hot chocolate and savor the last taste of it. “Well, I got bored with accounting and decided to do what I originally planned.”

  “Interior design,” he says, already knowing the answer.

  Nodding, I move my cup away. “And in order to get my degree, I need a humanities course. All that was left was Philosophy.”

  Jude chuckles. “You and I both got stuck with that class. That’s why I was late. I got the call literally right when it started.”

  “Now that we’re on good terms again, you’re not going to fail me, right?”

  He lifts his brows. “Depends. Just because we have history doesn’t mean I’m going to take it easy on you.”

  “Bring it on then, Professor.” He smiles and I can’t help but stare at him. He seems happy which is something I’ve always wanted for him. “Looks like you got what you wanted. A college professor. You must like it.”

  Averting his gaze, he peers out at the mountains and smiles. “I love it, Laura. Don’t get me wrong, it’s hard work trying to teach college kids. Some of them want to learn, but there are a lot who don’t give a shit. One day, those specific ones will grow up. I think we’ve all been there.”

  “Exactly,” I agree. “I remember us going to plenty of parties our freshman year.”

  Jude’s lips tilt slightly. “Yes, we did.”

  There were times when we’d party a little too hard and he would be the one holding my hair back. Or vice versa, he’d be the one who got wasted and I’d stay with him to make sure he stayed hydrated. There isn’t a single memory of my time in Boone without him in it. Losing him was like losing a part of my soul. How could I have ever been so stupid?

  Jude places a few dollars for tip on the table and nods toward the sidewalk. “Ready to go?”

  I stand and grab my bookbag. “Yep, let’s go.”

  As we’re walking down the sidewalk back to campus, something catches my attention. There’s a big sign, covered in pictures of sliced watermelon with the words Watermelon Festival on it. Mouth gaping, I grab my chest. “Oh my goodness, I can’t believe it.”

  Jude follows my line of sight and smiles. “Happens every year. You should know that.”

  “I know, but I forgot about it. We used to have so much fun at it.” We slowly walk by the big sign and my heart jumps with excitement. The festival is tomorrow. “Do they still have the funnel cakes I love?”

  “Yep,” Jude says with a laugh. “I get one every year.” Then he looks over at me. “Want to go? It’ll be fun.”

  Yes. Yes. Yes.

  “I’d love to,” I say, trying not to sound overly enthusiastic.

  When we get to the parking lot, he follows me over to my car. “Do you want me to pick you up or meet you there?” he asks.

  Never before have I been nervous around him, but I am now. It’s the butterflies in the stomach kind of feeling. It’s strange because I’ve never had those types of feelings for Jude before.

  “You can pick me up if you want. I’ll text you my address.”

  We exchange numbers and he pockets his phone, his eyes searching mine. I’ve known him a long time and I can tell he wants to say something, but instead, he takes a step back. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow.” He smiles once more, and I watch him get into a black Jeep and drive away. Once he’s gone, I pull out my phone and call my sister.

  “Hey, sis,” she answers. “How did your first day go?”

  I get in my car and laugh. “Let’s just say it was a blast from the past. You’ll never guess who’s one of my professors.”

  A few seconds pass and she giggles. “I have no freaking clue. Who? You got me curious.”

  I let a few more seconds pass in suspense. “Jude Daniels. Can you believe it?”

  She squeals so loud it hurts my ears. “Holy shit, that’s insane! What are the odds of that?”

  “Exactly. It felt so good seeing him again.”

  “It should,” she exclaims. “I’ve always told you what I thought about him.”

  “And what was that?” I already know the answer, and I’ve thought about it millions of times over the years.

  She snorts. “Duh. That he’s the one you were supposed to be with. Now you can make it right.”

  Closing my eyes, I let that sink in. Maybe it’s time we do make things right.

  Four

  Jude

  I wake panting, completely out of breath. The continuous whoosh of the ceiling fan keeps rhythm with each inhale and exhale I take and give. It takes me a moment to gather my bearings. My hand slides across to the empty side of my queen-sized mattress. It’s cold and vacant, despite what my dream and memories are telling me.

  It’s been years since I’ve dreamed of Laura… like that or in any way, really. At first, after she cut off all communication, I used to have nightmares about her, and us. We’d be running through the forest, side by side, until I couldn’t see her anymore. I’d search for her but to no avail and when I woke, I’d be much like I am now, out of breath. The only exception this time is, I’m rock hard, there wasn’t a forest, and I have very detailed and graphic images of her in my mind, straddling my lap.

  My hand reaches under my blankets and into the waistband of my shorts, confirming what I already know. For the first time since probably the seventh or eighth grade, I’ve had a wet dream.

  “Son of a bitch,” I mutter as I throw the covers back and set my bare feet on the hardwood floor. I lean toward the lamp on my nightstand and twist the little black dial to illuminate my room. A quick glance over my shoulder confirms everything—the sticky shit I felt on my dick has definitely left a giant wet spot on my sheets. I have no choice but to strip my bed. I do this quickly and fling my boxers onto the pile and carry the items to my washer and throw them in. My next stop—the shower.

  After I turn on the water, I step in, not caring if the water is warm or not. I need to wake-up even though it’s three in the morning. There is no way I’m going back to sleep. Laura is at the forefront of my mind and I’d rather spend as much time as I can thinking about her before we spend time together today.

&
nbsp; I don’t know what I was thinking when I asked her to stay after class. At first, I wanted to be a total prick and tell her to transfer, tell her that if she stayed, I’d flunk her. But as I watched her approach me, every bad thought I had disappeared. Before me, was the one I let get away. I put our friendship first and thought we were building a foundation. And then the summer of our sophomore year in college came, and so did Shawn. I could tell immediately she was into him. I welcomed him, treated him like a friend. I had no idea he was going take my best friend away from me.

  When Laura cut off all ties, I knew it was because of Shawn and not something she decided on her own. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body and wouldn’t say boo if you paid her. He, on the other hand, was that guy everyone either liked or hated. The one that would walk down the hall, make fun of someone, and get everyone around him to do the same. I loathe people like him.

  The water finally turns warm and I start to relax. There’s so much tension in my shoulders and back that I do everything I can to loosen up. Still, as my fingers dig into my skin, flashbacks of my dream about Laura flood my mind. I don’t get where these visions are coming from. I’ve never seen her naked, let alone kissed her. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to, it’s that I never wanted to jeopardize our friendship. Maybe if I had—because the opportunities were there many, many times—things would be different between us.

  I give up on the shower when the water turns cold again. I’m tempted to see if I can get another hour of sleep in the guest bedroom, but ultimately decide the couch is better. I slip into a clean pair of boxers and make my way downstairs. Soon, the weather is going to change, and I’ll have the woodstove going to keep the cabin warm. Until then, I pull a throw blanket from the decorative basket my mother set near the couch and cover up with it. I turn the television on and flip through the channels. There’s a ton of infomercials, trying to sell me beauty products, household cleaners, and machines meant to tighten my buttocks to make them firm. Pass, pass, and thanks but no thanks. I finally settle on a classic TV channel, turn down the volume and close my eyes. I figure the background noise will be enough to keep my naughty visions of Laura at bay.

  No such luck.

  I end up staring at the television until it’s time to get moving. I never told Laura what time I’d pick her up and I’m assuming she doesn’t have class today or she would’ve told me so, and I never thought to ask. Although, knowing Laura, she would skip class just to go to the Watermelon Festival. It used to be our favorite thing to do, and always on opening day. That’s when the funnel cakes are the biggest and the watermelon is the freshest.

  Now that I’m awake, I transfer my wash into the dryer, get dressed and send Laura a text while I make myself some breakfast and a pot of coffee.

  Hello, Laura. It’s Jude. I wanted to check and see if you still wanted to go to the festival today, and if so, what time? I forgot to ask if you had classes today.

  Every second I wait increases my anxiety and I don’t know why. She said she wants to go, and I told her I’d pick her up, which reminds me, I’ll need her address as well. I have to set my phone down because it’s like a watched pot and I know if I sit here and wait for it to ring, it never will.

  I’m away from the table for a couple seconds when my phone chimes. I rush back, like a teenage boy getting that first call from his crush and gouge my thigh on the corner of my kitchen table.

  “Son of a southern fried chicken biscuit,” I say aloud. My censorship game is usually reserved for the classroom.

  Laura Parrish: Hey, Jude… No classes today, pick me up whenever you’re ready. I live in the apartments across from the main entrance, 5b!

  I’m on my way. I text back, even though I’m not anywhere near being ready. I should comb my unruly hair or at least stop for a haircut at one of those drop-in places, but truthfully, I’m eager to see her, to have her next to me. It’s been a long time since we’ve been together like this.

  The drive down the mountain happens in record time. I think I only came off four wheels once or twice, maybe three times when I took a curve a bit too sharply and at a high rate of speed, but no one was around to witness my atrocious and highly dangerous driving. When I reach solid pavement, I breathe a sigh of relief. I can’t recall a single time I ever drove like a maniac down that road.

  “Not too bright,” I mutter as I pull up to the stop light. I glance to my right and notice a student of mine. I turn away before she has a chance to make eye contact. The last thing I want is for her or anyone for that matter to start some rumor about my crazy driving techniques.

  Once the signal changes, I turn and head toward Laura’s apartment. I’m thankful she lives so close to the school and to me for that matter. As soon as I pull into the parking lot, I find a spot and park. I’m about to shut off the engine when I see her emerge. This is the moment when I can watch her without looking like a stalker or a creepy professor eyeing his way too hot student. Laura’s wearing blue shorts, probably denim if I had to guess. They don’t look like the shorty short shorts she used to wear back in the day, but they’re similar and they show off her long legs. She descends the stairs and I catch the slight sway of her hips. I swallow hard as she approaches. I think I like this older Laura.

  As soon as her T-shirt comes into view, I laugh and shake my head. There’s a slice of watermelon on her shirt and it reads, “Y’all gonna make me lose my rind.” I’m so enthralled with her shirt that I completely forget to get out and open her door for her.

  “I’m sorry,” she says just as I blurt out, “Shit.”

  “Sorry, I should’ve opened the door for you.”

  Laura laughs and hops into the Jeep. “I’m fully capable of opening the door. Besides, I saw you checking out my melons… I mean melon.” She looks down at her shirt, blushing. She’s right, I was.

  We make small talk as I drive us to the fairgrounds. Laura catches me up on her parents and I tell her about mine. Both sets seem to be fairing the same: living the retired life. We avoid her divorce and my ex, which is for the best. They’re both sore subjects. Mostly with me.

  By the time we reach the parking lot, we have to park toward the back. “I had no idea it would be this packed.”

  “Liar,” Laura says. “It’s always this busy on day one or have you forgotten?”

  Nope, just not sure what to say around you. “Must’ve spaced it,” I say.

  We get out and Laura comes around the front to meet me, as we walk toward the pay booth. I have my wallet out and am handing the attendant cash before Laura can pay for herself.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” she says.

  “I invited you, remember?” I wink and take her hand to lead her toward the funnel cake stand. We are five or six people deep in line when she suggests the most asinine thing to me.

  “Hey, Jude,” she says in her sing song voice. It’s a clear indication that I’m about to say yes to whatever she’s about to say.

  “Laura.”

  “What do you think about entering the watermelon eating contest?”

  “I think you’re about to get a funnel cake.”

  She grips my arm and bounces up and down on her toes. “Let’s do it. We have nothing to lose.”

  “Dignity.” I point out. “I’m a professor at the college. What if my students film me and put me on Tik Tak and I go viral?”

  “First, it’s Tok not tak and if you do, all your students will think you’re a bad ass.”

  Laura makes me laugh. It’s the deep bellowing, come from the bottom of your gut, make your sides hurt laugh. I haven’t laughed like this in years. I look at her. Big mistake. Her lower lip is jutted out and she’s batting those emerald green eyes of hers.

  I nod even though she already knows she won. I can’t believe in a matter of hours, the Laura I knew and loved is back and I’m right there lapping up every bit of attention.

  Laura orders her funnel cake and shares it with me as we walk toward the watermelon eating con
test. Of course, when we enter the staging area, Tracy Byrd’s “Watermelon Crawl” is playing over the loudspeaker.

  “Well if this song doesn’t bring back memories.” I bump Laura’s hip with mine and smile.

  “Personally, I always preferred Kid Rock’s “All Summer Long.””

  “That’s because you had a crush on him, which I will never ever understand.” I shake my head. “Do you still prefer guys with long hair?”

  We come to a stop and wait our turn to fill out the registration form. I use this time to look at her. She has some powdered sugar on her cheek, so I wipe it off. Her breath catches and I stay as stoic as possible.

  “I think I prefer guys with crazy, just got out of bed hair,” she says quietly.

  My hand pauses. Would that be me?

  “Next.”

  The nasally voice calling for us pulls my attention away from Laura. I fill out the form and pay the fee. We’re told the rules. There are many rounds, we get free admission if we win, final contest is on Sunday. Got it.

  Laura and I take our seats. There are ten of us at the table with heaping slices of watermelon. There is no way we’re going to win, but I don’t care. We’re doing this together. At the sound of the horn, we start eating.

  The best thing about watermelon, it’s water. And it takes a lot to fill someone up. I manage to chomp down a slice with two, sometimes three bites. I always keep a full rind in my free hand, so I don’t lose focus.

  When the timer sounds, I stuff what I have left in my hand into mouth and throw the rind down into the pile. I lean back and groan. “Holy crap that was a lot of melon.”

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Laura says as she covers her mouth and her eyes go wide.

  “I’ll laugh if you puke.”

  “That’s mean,” she mumbles from behind her hand.

  I shrug. “You made us do this.”

  Laura leans her head into my shoulder and as if it’s second nature, I put my arm around her and pull her toward my chest. “Are you really going to be sick?” She shakes her head, which is relief.