Chapter 18 #2
The door swung open, and Riley rolled in. She looked like she’d had a rough night, and she grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and dropped into the chair across from me without asking.
“Kids, man,” she sighed, and I felt her obvious relief in my bones. We were all on our feet constantly, for hours on end, but at least most of us had good, supportive shoes. I had no clue how she managed to skate around all night; she had to have leg muscles of steel.
“You would think,” she went on, spitting the words out like venom.
“That parents wouldn’t bring their screaming little crotch goblins to an after-dark horror show.
But noooo. Let’s bring the brats and then complain that they’re going to have nightmares because they tried to wreck my set, so I had to chase them to teach them a fucking lesson. ”
I tried not to laugh. Riley’s hatred of kids was legendary. Clearly, she had no intention of being a mother anytime soon. I can’t say I blamed her.
“I swear to fucking god,” she muttered, taking a deep gulp of water. Her crazy eyes flashed as she looked around the room, and honestly, age be damned; sometimes I was afraid she’d give me nightmares. “Simon still on the phone with Amanda?”
“Yeah.”
“How could they possibly have so much to talk about? He called her last break.”
She wasn’t wrong, and I’d wondered the same thing countless times since getting to know Simon.
I shrugged my response and scrolled through more of my feed. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to her, but I—well, didn’t really want to talk to her right now. I was too busy wallowing in online shit.
Riley took another long drink before studying me over the bottle. “You look like shit, Ash.”
“Well, thanks.”
She rolled her eyes and lifted herself just enough to peek over the top of my phone. I tried to hide it, but I knew she saw the screen and what sort of trash I was scrolling through.
“Have you heard from Jude?”
The question scratched that wound in my heart. I locked my phone again and set it down. “No.”
“Me neither.” Riley set the bottle on the table between us. “Not since the day after. He’s not answering anyone. Jonas tried calling him before and got sent straight to voicemail.”
“Maybe he just needs space.”
“Or maybe he’s being a stubborn idiot.” Riley leaned back in her chair and started fiddling with one of her space buns. “So, what are you going to do about it?”
I looked up. “What?”
“About Jude.” She said it as if it were obvious. Like the answer should be written on my forehead or up in neon. “What are you planning to do?”
“Umm, nothing. There’s nothing to do. He doesn’t want to talk to me.”
He never wanted to talk to me. If his friends and crew couldn’t get through to him, then I had no chance in hell.
She gave me that look that suggested I should probably start running if I valued my life.
Thankfully, she seemed too tired to chase me around the staffroom with her baseball bat.
“Have you tried showing up?”
“At his apartment? That’s stalker behavior, Riley.”
“It’s direct communication.” She tilted her head, expression unreadable under all that white paint and fake blood. “Look, I don’t know all the details. You two kept whatever was happening pretty quiet. But I’m not blind, Ash. Neither is anyone else who was paying attention.”
Heat crept up my neck. “I don’t know what you think was going on, but—”
“You were fucking.” She said it flatly. Matter-of-fact. “Don’t bother lying because you’re terrible at it and I’m too tired to beat around the bush. I also don’t care enough to be scandalized.”
I opened my mouth, and then promptly closed it. I couldn’t seem to find words that didn’t sound exactly like what she’d just called me out for.
Riley leaned forward, elbows on the table.
“Here’s what I actually care about. You’ve been miserable for three days straight.
Jude’s injured and holed up in his apartment, ignoring everyone.
And neither of you seems capable of doing anything about it except moping and making everything awkward for the rest of us. ”
“It’s complicated.”
“It’s really not.” She picked up her water bottle again.
“He’s a bit of a dick sometimes, and I love him and all, but I wouldn’t want to fuck him.
Way too emotional for me. You did though, and clearly still do.
” She held up a hand to stop me from protesting.
“Based on Jude’s insufferable people skills, and the fact that we’re having this conversation at all, I think it’s safe to say you want something from him and either you didn’t use your big boy words, or he panicked.
So what is it, Ash? What do you actually want? ”
I stared at the table, at the scratches worn into the surface from years of performers killing time between sets.
What did I want?
“I want him to stop shutting me out,” I said finally. “I want him to talk to me instead of pretending I don’t exist.”
“Good. And?”
“Why does there have to be an ‘and’?”
“There’s always an ‘and’.”
I sighed and hated the fact that she was right. I’d been told she was smart—like, we’d have to start calling her Dr. Riley soon sort of smart—but I hadn’t expected her to be this socially perceptive.
“I want to know if we’re done or if there’s anything left worth fighting for. Anything that I can fight for.”
There. I fucking said it.
Riley nodded slowly. “Okay. So go tell him that.”
“He won’t answer my messages.”
“Then go to his apartment and tell him to his face.” Her tone made it sound like I was a toddler needing explicit directions. In a way, I guess I did.
She stood, stretching. “Jude’s a stubborn asshole, Ash. He’s not going to make the first move. You know that as well as I do. So if you actually give a shit, you’re going to have to be the one to do something about it.”
She headed for the door, pausing with her hand on the frame. “And for what it’s worth? I’ve known Jude for three years. I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looked at you.”
Then she was gone, leaving me alone with the burned coffee smell and Simon still murmuring his ‘good nights’ to Amanda.
***
I knocked twice before the silence really got under my skin.
“I know you’re in there, Jude.”
He had to be there. His car was in the drive, and he couldn’t exactly walk anywhere. Which meant he was avoiding me.
“Go away, Ash.” Jude’s voice came through the door. Rough. Like he’d been asleep, except I knew he hadn’t been. It was three in the morning, but he’d been active on social media twenty minutes ago, and we shift workers didn’t change our sleeping schedules that fast.
“Not happening.” I shifted the takeout bags to my other hand. “Open the damn door.”
“I’m not in the mood for whatever this is.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t give a shit.” I knocked again, harder this time. “And I’m coming in whether you like it or not.”
I’d do it too. Break this fucking door down. Riley had lit a fire in me that had burned all through the last set of the night, and now that it was raging, there was only one way I’d be able to douse it.
There was a long pause, and I could imagine his face as he weighed my threat. Finally, I heard the sound of crutches hitting hardwood, slow and uneven, before the lock turned over and the door swung inward.
Jude looked like hell.
His hair was a mess, unstyled and falling across his forehead in dark curls.
No gel. The shadows under his eyes looked bruised, and he hadn’t shaved in days.
Not that he had much facial hair to begin with, but the patchy shadow made him look tired.
He wore sweatpants and an old Ridgeway crew shirt that hung loose on his lean frame.
The moon boot on his right foot made him list slightly to the left, even with the crutches tucked under his arms for support.
He stared at me with those dark eyes, expression somewhere between exhausted and pissed off. “It’s three in the morning.”
“I know what time it is.”
“I said I’m not in the mood.”
“Heard you the first time.” I stepped forward, forcing him to back up or get run over. He chose to back up, awkward on the crutches, as I pushed my way inside and kicked the door shut behind me. “Brought food.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“That’s fine.” I headed for the small kitchen table, set down the bags and started unpacking. “I am.”
“Ash.”
“What?” I arranged the containers and wondered if I’d gotten enough food.
I hadn’t known the portion size, but the Thai fusion place stayed open late and smelled amazing.
I’d gone with pad Thai, spring rolls, some sort of curry that looked creamy and oddly soothing.
And at the bottom of the bag I’d stuffed three pouches of those roasted chickpeas; the ones that tasted like punishment, but somehow, we kept eating them anyway.
“You just gonna stand there or you want to sit down?”
“I want you to leave.”
“Yeah, well.” I dropped into one of the chairs and cracked open the first container. “We can’t always get what we want. And what are you gonna do about it? Physically throw me out?”
His jaw tightened. That little muscle jumped near his cheekbone the way it did when I got under his skin just right.
There he is.
“You’re such an asshole,” he said.
“I learned from the best.” I grabbed a fork and dug into the pad Thai. “Come on. Sit.”
“I don’t—”
“Jude.” I looked up at him. “Sit down before you fall over.”
A mixture of anger and exhaustion flashes across his face, and it had no right making him look that sexy.
He made his way to the other chair with slow, careful movements, propping the crutches against the wall within reach.
When he finally settled, he didn’t look at the food, just stared at the table like it might give him answers.
I ate. The noodles were lukewarm, and the sauce had started to congeal, but I’d been running on adrenaline and spite for the last four hours, and I was starving.