Chapter 7
SEVEN
CHARLOTTE
I blink a few times, wondering if I heard Jude correctly. Surely I didn’t hear him right.
“What?” I ask, taking the glass of wine he offers me. I take a large drink of it, wanting to feel a buzz as quickly as possible to deal with the ending of my day.
“This house is huge, plenty of guest rooms… Just stay with me for the summer.”
I crinkle my nose before taking another drink. I watch Jude closely as he ambles around the counter and takes the seat next to mine.
“Jude, I’m not staying in your bachelor pad with you for the summer.”
He stares at me over the top of his wineglass. He lifts an eyebrow before taking a drink, making me wonder what he’s thinking.
His eyes pull from mine as he looks around the large kitchen. “I wasn’t aware the house I spent months and months renovating gave off bachelor pad vibes.”
I follow his gaze as I take another drink of my wine.
I’ve already drunk half the glass, making me a little sad because the wine he chose is delicious.
I’m sure it cost more than I ever want to know, and I’m meant to savor it and sip it slowly, but tonight is not a night for taking my time with a glass of wine.
I’m looking to down a bottle to forget that I have nowhere to live for the summer.
I keep the glass of wine pressed to my lips to buy myself time.
The truth is, his house looks nothing like a bachelor pad.
It’s beautiful. The cream-colored cabinets and the original hardwood floors give the house character.
He kept the history of the old Hamptons house and made it his own.
It has the charm of the house I saw in the magazine that made me want to move to the Hamptons in the first place.
I let out a long sigh when my eyes find his still staring at me. “Your house doesn’t look like a bachelor pad, but I’m still not staying here for the summer. Maybe I’ll ask Lucy.”
“You don’t have to ask Lucy. I’ve already offered. I can assure you I’m way more fun than Lucy and Cal.” He sets his wineglass on the counter and keeps his gaze pinned on me. There’s a whisper of a smirk on his lips as he waits for me to respond.
I bite my lip for a moment, following his lead and setting my own wineglass down. I already feel a slight buzz from the wine, making my cheeks feel a little flushed.
His fun is the exact reason I don’t want to stay here for the summer.
The last thing I want is to watch him have a revolving door of women through his house.
We’re basically a year into our friendship, and I’ve managed not to have any awkward encounters with any of the women who fall at his feet, and I want to keep it that way.
“Jude, we’re not meant to live together,” I offer, giving him the first excuse that pops into my head.
Two wrinkles form between his eyebrows, accompanied by a slight frown. “What’s that supposed to mean? Two friends can’t live together? I’m just trying to help, Char.”
There’s a slight twinge in my chest at his words.
The look on his face tells me all I need to know.
He’s just trying to do the right thing and offer me a place to stay for the summer.
He’s a good friend. I just don’t think it’s a good idea to live with him for the summer.
Things might get weird, and I don’t want that to happen.
“I know you’re trying to help, and I appreciate it, but I’ll figure it out. I always do.”
His lips press into a thin line. It’s obvious he wants to say something else, but he keeps whatever he was thinking to himself. Instead, he picks up his glass of wine and takes a large gulp. Now we’re both over halfway through our first glass.
The silence between us gets to me. I sit forward and prop my elbows against the counter. “No more talking about me being homeless for the summer. For tonight, I want to forget about the problem.”
Jude’s sandy-brown eyebrows rise to his hairline. The serious look on his face that was there when I denied his offer is gone, and the constant look of humor he typically wears is back. “How can I help you forget?”
There’s a deepness to his voice that I feel throughout my entire body. It makes my spine straighten and my toes curl against my rubber flip-flops.
My throat feels suddenly dry, and all I can do is swallow to try and wet my mouth enough to speak.
I open my mouth to say something, but I still can’t form a coherent thought.
Since I can’t get words out, I opt to take another drink of wine instead.
I take one gulp and then another until the glass is empty.
Jude chuckles. “So drinking is how we’re forgetting tonight. Got it.” He reaches across the counter and knocks his half-full glass of wine with my empty one. “Cheers, Char.” His eyes stay pinned on me as he tips the glass up and chugs the rest of his wine.
“You’re cheating!” I yell, pointing my finger at a grinning Jude.
He gives me a casual shrug before looking at the cards in his hands. “Or maybe I’m just better at this game than you are.”
I shake my head. “No one’s better at Go Fish than me. I’ve played it countless times with my nieces and nephews.” The words come out perfectly clear in my mind, but the multiple glasses of wine running through my bloodstream make me wonder if my words maybe came out a little jumbled.
“Maybe I’m a Go Fish connoisseur,” he jokes, his brown eyes pinned on me. The light from the candle on the table between us reflects in his eyes.
I scoff. “Not a chance. Have you even played before tonight?”
He lets out a bark of a laugh before covering his mouth with his cards in an attempt to hide his smile. “I don’t think I’ve played since I was a kid,” he admits, his shoulders shaking with the hint of another laugh.
I try to fight my own smile, but it doesn’t work. I know Go Fish might not be the most refined card game we could’ve chosen, but all the other games Jude wanted to play seemed so complicated. I’m too tipsy to learn the rules of a new card game, so we settled on this one.
“Well, I still think you’re cheating,” I declare before taking a sip of my wine.
Together, we’re on our third bottle of wine.
I know I’ll have a terrible headache tomorrow at work, but I don’t care.
I’m having too much fun to stop. Despite the shitty news I got hours ago, Jude’s been able to turn the night around for me.
He’d done what he sought out to do—made me forget—and it feels like there’s still so much of the night left.
Jude stares at me for a moment. He doesn’t say anything for what feels like the longest time, and it makes me nervous.
Jude is a talker, just like me. He says exactly what comes to his mind the moment he thinks it, but something about tonight has been different.
I know he isn’t saying everything he’s thinking, and for some reason, it’s unnerving me.
He’s looking at me longer than normal and keeping his thoughts to himself.
This is unfamiliar territory when it comes to him, and I don’t know how to feel about it.
Finally, he clears his throat and speaks up. “Weird that you think I’m cheating just because I’m winning.”
“Do you have a seven?” I repeat, looking at my hand of cards.
“Go fish,” Jude immediately answers. He keeps his gaze pinned on me, and I can’t help but squirm under his intense stare.
The way he looks at me gives me butterflies, and that’s never happened before. I groan and close my eyes for a moment as I try to ignore my body’s reaction to him. I open my eyes to find him still staring at me with an intensity he hasn’t shown before. “Jude, you have to have a seven.”
“I don’t have a seven. Go fish.”
I stare at him for a moment, trying to do the math in my head. I’m tipsy, but I’ve been paying enough attention. He has to have a seven.
I know it’s dramatic, but I let out the loudest sigh as I draw from the deck of cards between us. I swear he’s cheating, but unless I crawl across the coffee table and force him to show me his cards, I just have to trust that he doesn’t have the card I could have sworn he has.
I try not to show any sort of reaction to picking up a two. Two turns ago, he was looking for this card. As long as he doesn’t ask for it again, I’ll have a chance to catch up to him.
“Do you have a two?” he asks. He smirks before I can even react to his question.
I toss my cards down. “You’re cheating!”
He laughs before his eyes go wide. I follow his gaze, finding my glass of wine spilling all over the table—and on me.
“Shit,” Jude mutters, standing up and running to his kitchen.
I look down, finding my shirt covered in wine. “I’m so sorry,” I rush to get out, feeling terrible. Leave it to me to invite myself over to his house and then spill his expensive wine all over his vintage restored coffee table that I’m sure cost way more than I could ever imagine.
He crouches in front of where I’m kneeling, that smirk he’s always wearing still on his lips despite my mishap. “No need to be sorry.” He quickly unravels sheets of paper towels from the roll. I try to help him by peeling off a few sheets and soaking up the wine from the table.
“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to stifle a giggle at the situation. “I spilled your nice wine on your nice table. I’m sorry, Jude.”
He moves his attention from the spill on the table and onto me.
“Fuck, I didn’t realize it was on you too.” He quickly rips another paper towel off the roll and starts dabbing at my shirt.
“It’s not that bad,” I say, trying to keep my voice composed as it hits me how close Jude is.
His face hovers in front of mine as his eyes stay trained on the wet spot across my shirt. I blame the multiple glasses of wine for the reason why my entire body heats. It isn’t because he’s standing close. It isn’t because I can feel the heat of his hand through the fabric of my shirt.
It isn’t because I just realized that Jude Kensington’s lips are inches away from mine. The heat blooming across my cheeks isn’t because the only thought running through my head right now is how easy it’d be to kiss my best friend…and how badly I think I want to.