3. The Wrong Date #3
I stepped into him before he could move again, palms pressing lightly to his chest. “Jude—” That stopped him.
His eyes dropped to me for the first time, anger tightening his jaw.
“I just—I don’t feel good,” I lied, because I couldn’t say it out loud.
I didn’t want to admit that he was right about Gabe, or that his scratchy voice needled in the back of my mind.
Maybe I was boring. “I want to go home.”
His eyes hardened. “Okay.” He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me into his side. “I’ve got you.”
Jude ushered me into the car, which was pulled up onto the sidewalk and in a fire zone.
But I didn't feel like fighting about it, or really talking at all.
He stripped his sweatshirt off with one hand, muscled arm stretching behind him.
He tugged it over my head, before I could protest and I slid my arms through the sleeves.
He piled the bottom of my dress inside, smoothing a hand over my thigh.
“You look beautiful, Solace.”
“Thank you.” My voice was quiet as he reminded me to put on my seatbelt, tugging on a curl as he closed the door.
I tracked him cross in front of the Jeep, ignoring the museum employee who'd come outside to tell him he of course couldn't park there.
He wasn't paying her any mind though, his eyes were still on me, jaw tense as he rounded the car and jumped inside, slamming the door shut.
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
Tucking my face into my fist, I stared out the window as he threw the car into reverse and backed off the curb.
“I don’t feel good.” If I told him the truth, he'd only go looking for a fight. And for what? A lame prom date? Gabe wasn’t worth it.
“I think I have a low grade fever. I threw up in the bathroom.”
The light turned red overhead and he slowed to a stop, glancing over at me as a bus turned in front of us. His mouth moved as if he meant to say something. Perhaps to call me out on my bullshit, but the light flashed green, and a call rang through the car.
Taya’s name scrolled across the screen with a red heart beside it. Jude hesitated, hands tightening on the wheel.
“It’s fine. Just get it.”
“Are you sure?”
I nodded, looking back out the window watching the buildings blur past.
“Hey Tay.”
“Honey,” she whimpered through pathetic sounding sobs.
He switched the call to his phone and put the speaker up to his ear so I couldn’t hear what she said, but from the murmuring—it was probably a whole lot of ass kissing and groveling.
He had dumped her. Like he dumped all girls after a while, but Taya was the only one who’d refused to take no for an answer.
Which, if I was being honest, was kind of beneath her.
Sure, Jude was hot and super smart, but so was Taya.
She could date anyone in our whole town.
Their back and forth was pretty toxic, but what did my opinion matter? It didn’t.
“I’m with… someone,” he said. “A friend. I don’t know if I can tonight.”
There was a stabbing in my chest. Someone.
Taya despised our friendship, even if she had absolutely nothing to worry about.
Even in my wildest dreams, Jude and I never crossed into anything remotely romantic.
Still, his carefully threaded words were a lance to my heart.
It was difficult to watch him stitch the same wounds over and over and over again.
He glanced at me, hair falling into his eyes as he held the end of his phone against his shirt to no doubt muffle my voice. “Are you feeling good enough for dinner? We could grab some food. Or walk the waterfront.”
I studied him for a moment, the sweep of sable hair falling into his gray eyes.
The stern line of his mouth and the way his focus flickered between me and the road.
Then Taya’s tinny voice screeched on the other side of the call.
His throat worked as his gaze fell to his sweatshirt keeping me warm, then back to the dimly lit road.
Was he regretting giving it to me? I wasn’t wearing strong perfume, the smell would wash out. It was another reminder that I really needed to get home. To my bed. “I really don’t feel good. Maybe another time.”
“Okay, I’ll get you home. We could watch a movie.” He lifted the phone back up to his ear. “I can’t tonight, but I’ll give you a call to—”
I placed my hand on his thigh, shook my head, and whispered, “I’m fine. I am just going to go to bed. You should go.”
He paused for a moment, gaze flicking over me with knit brows. “Uh—actually Tay, give me an hour. I’ll swing by when I’m done here.”
From there, Jude drove two miles under the speed limit and took the backroads the whole way home.
He stopped at the gas station, grabbed crackers, ginger ale, and even a few plastic bags he'd stacked inside one another in case I puked, “again.” He rubbed a hand over my back every few miles, and asked me if I needed to pull over or if I needed something more substantial to eat.
Each minute was agonizing. Every second, a reminder that I'd wasted my evening on the wrong guy, and because I was too chicken shit, he would waste his with the wrong girl. But maybe that was how it was meant to be. This time my eyes welled with tears, for an entirely different reason.