Chapter Eight
The good kiss haunted Judah for weeks, months.
When he sat down to his regular chavrusa with Nate Epstein—the first person he’d ever told that his libido didn’t quite seem to function like everyone else’s—it took all his restraint not to say “I get it now” over their leather-bound gemaras.
At every wedding he worked, he braced himself for the chance she’d be there, only to chastise himself for his disappointment when she didn’t materialize.
He threw himself into every opportunity possible to keep busy and distracted, and with the way his career had blown up since that first video went viral, magnified by the publication of the “Ein Klein Hotmusic” profile, the list was vast and varied.
He went on a tour up and down the Eastern Seaboard that stunned him by selling out.
He opened for concerts across the country—mostly Jewish bands, but occasionally he appeared as something of a novelty performance at popular shows, surprising and delighting fans who recognized him from the internet.
He spent Saturday nights at senior homes and assisted living facilities, turning Havdalah into a musical performance followed by dancing.
(A visiting grandchild posted a video that he opted not to watch, but he did receive an all-caps text from Lev letting him know that apparently it broke the internet.) He did weddings and bar mitzvahs all over the Tri-State area, plus the occasional well-paid gig in Boston or Philadelphia (and one really well-paid one in Miami for a Sweet Sixteen), and in every spare moment, he worked on tracks for his new album (or at least tried to), for which his manager swore he’d be paid very well.
And he dated. Oh, how he dated. (Though never again at the August.) Now that he knew the potential for physical chemistry was out there, he threw himself back into it, squeezing in a quick coffee while performing in Chicago, meeting one of Nate’s wife’s cousins over mediocre salmon salad in Queens.
He took a second look at bridesmaids when he performed—something he never used to do and felt gross about almost immediately. But still, he was trying.
Unfortunately, none of it did anything to shake the night—the lips, the curves, the laugh—he was trying to forget. But he was trying.
Then he got a series of texts from his brother while on his way home from yet another date (Diet Coke and mint tea in another hotel lobby), this time with a girl who said she hated leaving New York, even for a weekend.
(Why would you go on a date with a guy who travels for work, including Shabbos and holidays, constantly? he was tempted to ask but didn’t.)
Akiva: Yo I assume you’re not coming to my party
Akiva: So wanna come for Shabbos lunch
Akiva: We’re celebrating me there too
Judah furrowed his brow as he tried to recall exactly what party Akiva was talking about.
It was his brother’s birthday this coming Sunday …
Judah checked his email, and sure enough, there was an invite to a party at a bar on the Upper West Side, celebrating Akiva’s big 2–9, that he’d apparently skipped right over.
Aren’t you a little old to be throwing yourself birthday parties? Judah started to type and promptly deleted it. There was no reason to sound like a jerk at a nice invitation. He should simply RSVP “no” as always and go for lunch.
Or … what if he didn’t RSVP no? What if he just … went? It might be nice to be around people his own age without having to sing and dance, literally or figuratively, and it’d be nice to show up for his brother too. Plus, now he was at least a little more familiar with Akiva’s friends …
He shook out his fingers, as if it would rid them of the feeling of soft curls and softer skin.
He wasn’t considering going to the party to see Arielle Becker; he didn’t even know if she was invited.
And if she just happened to be there, well—an agreement was an agreement.
They’d promised to put that night behind them, and clearly, they both had.
(Or, at least, one of them had, and one of them was desperately trying.)
I’ll be there, Judah wrote back before he could talk himself out of it. Then he realized it wasn’t clear which invitation he was answering and added, The party, I mean.
Come to both, Akiva wrote back, complete with a smiley face emoji that preemptively guilted Judah out of bailing, even though he accepted maybe one of Akiva’s invitations a year, if that. I won’t even make you perform. Much.
Despite himself, Judah smiled. He knew he’d been in need of some major changes, and while his romantic future may still have been a giant question mark, improving his relationship with his brother definitely felt like a good step.
Deal.
Ari’s eyes scanned the table at Akiva, Danny, and Noah’s apartment, counting the number of places set out for Shabbos lunch.
She’d slept in that morning instead of going to shul, and Akiva’d come back early to set up.
By the time she got herself dressed and walked upstairs with Liana’s and her contributions to the meal, he’d already finished getting everything ready, leaving her to relax on the couch and put her feet up on the coffee table.
“Did you put out too many settings?” she called to Akiva.
“I thought it was just the five of us, plus Bella, Zach, and Emily. Is Em’s roommate coming? ”
“No, but my brother is,” he called back from the kitchen.
Arielle froze, trying to recall if Akiva had another brother she’d simply forgotten about.
She hadn’t crossed paths with Judah since the night they’d kissed, and given that she didn’t have another wedding until Liana and Gideon’s, she’d expected to have months before she had to face him again.
Certainly enough time to have forgotten the feeling of his hands on her face, his tongue stroking hers. Not to mention their conversation …
For months she’d been wondering if he’d found himself another girl whose dress he wanted to tear in two, and whether he’d actually torn it.
She didn’t want to feel special about being Judah Klein’s exception, but she didn’t know that she wanted to be his singular religious downfall, either.
The one thing she did know was that he never came to their Shabbos meals, no matter how often Akiva invited him, and she couldn’t help wondering if she had anything to do with why he’d changed his mind about this one.
But that was ridiculous, right?
“Huh. Is he coming because he’s skipping out on your birthday party?”
“Nope.” Akiva returned from the kitchen, cold bottles of Dr Pepper in hand. “He’s actually coming to that too, believe it or not.”
Okay, the plot was definitely thickening. “Your brother—we’re talking about Judah Klein?—is coming to your party?”
“Yup and yup.” Akiva shrugged. “Trust me, I’m just as surprised as you, but no excuses, nothing. He’s been traveling so much these past couple of months; I guess he needs a break.”
“Oh? Anywhere interesting?”
“He’ll be here in a few minutes—you can ask him yourself,” Akiva said with a grin. “Unless you’re still mad about that headbutt at Bella’s wedding.”
Ari was spared from responding as the door swung open and Danny, Noah, and the rest piled inside, their loud laughter and debate filling the space.
“There are no circumstances under which it’s okay to ask someone if a sprained ankle is a sex injury, Daniel,” Liana stated, peeling off her coat and placing it in Gideon’s waiting hand.
She turned to Ari and Akiva and narrowed her eyes.
“I was going to ask the two of you for backup, but I have a feeling you’d be Team Danny. ”
“I’d say ‘Never,’” Ari said sweetly, smirking at her friend-formerly-with-benefits, “but there are definitely circumstances under which it’s okay to ask someone if a sprained ankle is a sex injury.
For instance, when one of your frum friends has just gotten married and you know she’s finally having sex, and you need to point it out as frequently as possible. ”
Bella blushed and told everyone to shut up as they all pointedly looked in her direction, but Zach laughed and squeezed her hand. “I’m just really glad Bella let me know all her friends were giant perverts somewhere around date number two.”
“Well, I never.” Akiva’s hand fluttered to his chest. “And hey, where’s Judah? I thought you guys were gonna bring him home from shul.”
Noah peeked back out the door. “He’s right behind us. I think he just needed twenty feet of space from Danny and Liana’s arguing.”
“They were also screaming out names for possible sex injuries on the way home,” Emily offered helpfully. “I wouldn’t have minded two or three feet of space from ‘hornia’ either.”
“But that was the best one!” Danny protested just as Judah stepped inside, looking distinctly sour at their friends’ hijinks. Before Arielle could even get a good look, Akiva swooped in and gave his brother a hug.
“Jude! Glad you made it.”
Judah nodded, then seemed to remember that he should be happy to be there and gave Akiva a small smile and shoulder squeeze.
Akiva stepped away as Judah removed his long black overcoat, and Arielle sucked in a sharp breath.
It was one thing to think Judah Klein was kinda hot. Another thing to think Judah Klein was kinda hot and know he was a good kisser.
It was an entirely different thing to know Judah Klein was a good kisser and then see him in an immaculate three-piece suit, hanging so perfectly on his lean frame that it was easy to imagine he’d been the inspiration for its design.
He looked like a goddamn historical romance hero, all dapper and sophisticated, and God how she wanted to tear him apart, to hear and feel and taste that want the way she had in Aleah’s bridal suite.
Fuck me.