Chapter 18 #3
After a minute, Jude reached over and pulled one of the spring rolls toward him. He picked at the wrapper before taking a small bite.
Good boy.
“How’s Simon working out?” His voice was flat, but there was no way for him to completely hide the snark.
“Fine.” I swallowed a mouthful of curry. “He’s good. Professional. Shows up on time, knows his cues.”
“Sounds boring as hell.”
“It is.” I tore open one of the chickpea pouches and shook some out onto a napkin on the table. “He’s dating this girl, Amanda. Calls her every break. They’re disgustingly in love.”
Jude’s mouth twitched. Almost a smile. Almost. “Yeah, I know.”
“She sent him cookies last night. Homemade. He shared them with everyone, and Jonas nearly cried because apparently she makes them with real vanilla bean or some shit.” I popped a chickpea into my mouth.
It still tasted like cardboard with delusions of grandeur and too much spice, but it was addictive in a warped way.
“Riley spent twenty minutes interrogating him about the recipe.”
“Did she get it?”
“Fuck if I know. I was busy getting my ass handed to me by a twelve-year-old.”
That got his attention. His eyes flicked up to mine, questioning.
“Kid interrupted our chat,” I said. “Looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘My sister could scare me better than you.’ Then walked away laughing.”
“Brutal.”
“Yeah.” I grabbed another spring roll. “His mom looked mortified, but the dad was losing his shit. I think he gave the kid twenty bucks.”
Jude’s shoulders relaxed slightly. He finally took a second bite, chewing slowly. “Little asshole probably deserved the twenty.”
“Did you see the video Jonas posted?” I kept my tone casual. “The one from tonight’s final set.”
Jude’s hand stilled halfway to his mouth. “No.”
“Really?” I leaned back in my chair. “Because Simon and I fucking killed it. Crowd went nuts. Even Parker said it was our best run yet.”
The muscles in his jaw jumped again. He set down the spring roll, fingers tight on the edge of the table.
“I haven’t watched it.”
“Liar.” I held his gaze. “You were online half an hour ago. It’s trending.”
His jaw worked. He looked away, back down at the food. “Fine. Maybe I saw it.”
“And?”
“And nothing.” Jude picked up a fork and started stabbing at the curry without eating it. “You two looked good together. The chemistry was there. Crowd seemed into it. What more do you want me to say?”
“The chemistry was fake, and you know it.”
“Looked real enough to me.”
“That’s because Simon’s a professional and I’m a decent actor.” I leaned back in my chair, watching him like a hawk. I could see the irritation simmering just under the surface. It was in the way his eyes narrowed and his lips pressed together—I doubt he even realized he did it.
“Is that why you’re here? Just to rub it—”
“But it’s bullshit.” I cut him off. He was right on the edge of where I wanted him, but it would do neither of us any good to let him tumble into his stubborn anger.
“All of it. He doesn’t get under my skin.
Doesn’t make me want to go off script and see what happens.
He doesn’t make me feel anything except like I’m doing a job. ”
“You are doing a job.”
“That’s not what I meant, and we both know it.” He always did that. He always twisted things I said, and I always had to pull him up on it.
Jude’s fork stilled. “Ash.”
“I fucked up, okay.” The words came out faster and sooner than I’d expected, but I couldn’t keep them in any longer.
I had to get the damn things off my chest and out into the open, and I had to make sure he actually paid attention.
“That night in the storage room. The things I said about your parents, about you being scared. That was out of line.”
Jude blinked, and he let his fork clatter against the container. The shift in conversation had thrown him off balance, and I could see him scrambling to catch up, mouth opening and closing like he was sorting through responses and discarding each one.
His eyes met mine. Wary. Waiting.
And then he finally sighed.
“You weren’t wrong.”
“That doesn’t matter.” I ran a hand through my hair, feeling how greasy it was from the stage makeup I hadn’t bothered washing off completely. “I was angry, and I wanted to hurt you because you pushing me away hurt me. But that doesn’t make it okay.”
He was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was low. Rough around the edges in that way that made me feral. “I said worse. So much worse.”
“You were a dick.” He’d been horrible, and if this was ever going to work, then he needed to know that. I wasn’t trying to lord his words over him, and I had no intention of holding a grudge, but if we had any hope in hell, we needed to be honest with each other.
Jude looked me right in the eyes and said, “I know. And I’m sorry.”
I wanted to throw everything else to the wind, pull him over the table and kiss him senseless. But reckless sex was what had gotten us into this mess in the first place, so now was a time for words.
“Thank you.”
Jude never liked to do things by halves. He was all or nothing, full pelt, and he proved that yet again by continuing. “I told you it was just sex when it hadn’t been ‘just sex’ for a while.”
My chest tightened. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He finally ate a bite of the curry, grimacing slightly. “This is cold.”
“Want me to heat it up for you?”
“No.” He took another bite anyway, and I rolled my eyes. He was such a fucking stubborn bitch, but sitting here across from him, there was no denying that I was smitten. I could tell he wanted to say something. I could practically see the cogs working in his head.
I popped another chickpea into my mouth and gave him time.
He struggled through another half-dozen mouthfuls before he finally got started.
“My parents’ divorce taught me that people leave,” Jude said finally, staring down at the curry like it held all the answers. “That even when they promise they won’t, they do. And then you’re the collateral damage.”
I stayed quiet. Let him talk.
“My ex, Dylan. He tried. Really fucking tried.” Jude’s jaw worked. “But I couldn’t give him what he wanted. Kept him at arm’s length until he got tired of fighting for scraps and left.”
“That’s not the same thing as your parents.”
“No, but the result was.” He looked up at me then, eyes dark and haunted. “And before Dylan, there was Jimmy, and he—” Jude’s fingers tightened on the fork, and he sighed in a way that made me dread what he said next. “Our control issues complemented each other, and we just... just.”
I didn’t like the sound of that at all. I could read between the lines all too well. “He hit you?”
Jude didn’t answer, just set his fork down carefully, like he was concentrating on not breaking it. “I just learned to keep everyone out. Safer that way.”
I wanted to find this Jimmy fuck and break every bone in his hands. Wanted to make him bleed for putting that guarded look in Jude’s eyes, for teaching him that vulnerability meant pain.
But Jude was sitting here, opening up despite all that history. Despite everything I’d said in anger.
That took more guts than anything we’d done on stage.
“I get it now,” I said quietly. “Why you keep running.”
Jude’s mouth twisted. “Yeah, well. I’m a real catch.”
“You are,” I said, and meant it.
His eyes met mine, searching for sarcasm or pity, but he wouldn’t find either. Just honesty. Raw and unfiltered.
Which made me think about how I’d chased him. How he’d been running, and I’d been gaining on him, and then he’d fallen. The sound he’d made when he’d collapsed. The way everything had just stopped.
My throat tightened. “I’m sorry. For getting you hurt.”
Jude’s brows pulled together. “What?”
“Your ankle.” I gestured vaguely at the moon boot. “If I hadn’t been chasing you so hard, if I’d just let you go—”
He laughed. Actually laughed, short and surprised, shaking his head like I’d said something absurd.
“Ash.” He leaned back in his chair, one hand coming up to rub at his face. “You didn’t hurt me. You didn’t trip me or push me or anything. I was running, I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I ate shit all on my own.”
“But if I hadn’t—”
“No.” He cut me off, firm. “You don’t get to take credit for my fuckup. I’m the one who drew blood and then bolted like an idiot. That’s on me, not you.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to insist that if I’d just backed off, given him space, none of this would have happened.
But the look on his face said he wouldn’t hear it.
“I don’t blame you,” Jude said quietly. “I never did.”
Something in my chest loosened. Just a fraction, but enough that I could breathe a little easier.
Jude picked at the edge of his curry container, not quite meeting my eyes. “I’ve been watching the videos. All of them.”
“Jude.”
“I couldn’t stop.” He set the fork down, then picked it up again, like he needed something in his hands.
“I’ve been sitting here with this fucked ankle, stuck in this apartment, watching you perform with someone else.
Watching you two do our sequences.” He looked up at me, and there was so much emotion in his eyes that I thought I’d break in two. “It’s been killing me.”
“You could have answered my messages.”
“I know.”
“So why didn’t you?”
He exhaled slowly. “Because I didn’t know what to say. Because every time I tried to type something back, it sounded wrong or stupid or not enough.” His fingers drummed against the table.
That wasn’t everything. He had more to say, but he didn’t know how to get the words out. Thankfully, I’d just learned a trick that might help.
“And?”
“And... and I was scared.”
Holy shit.
“Of what?”
This time, when he looked at me, it was just him. No guardrails or walls. No lies that he’d tricked himself into believing, and no shadows of pain he’d never opened up about.
“Of you.” Jude gestured between us. “Of this. Whatever the fuck this is. Of wanting something I don’t know how to have.”
Holy.Fucking.Shit.
I couldn’t take it anymore. Keeping this distance between us was tearing me apart, and while we’d never been tender with each other, I needed that for us now. I needed him to understand how much I wanted him, issues and all.
I stood, and his eyes tracked me as I walked around the table. When I got to his chair, I didn’t do anything. Just stood there, looking down at him with his messy hair and exhausted eyes, and that stubborn set to his jaw that made me want to kiss him and punch him at the same time.
“I’m not asking you to have it all figured out,” I said. “I’m not asking for some big declaration or a label we can slap on this and call it done.”
“Then what are you asking for?”
“More than what we had.” I reached down, slid my fingers into his hair the way I’d been thinking about doing since I walked through the door. His breath hitched even though I kept it gentle. “More than just fucking in closets and pretending we don’t mean anything to each other.”
“Ash.”
“I want to try.” My thumb brushed against his temple. “I want to see what happens if we stop fighting it and actually give this a shot. I want to get to know you, take you on a date.”
His hand came up, wrapped around my wrist. Not pulling me away. Just holding on. “I don’t know if I’m any good at this.”
“At what?”
“At being with someone. At letting someone in.” His eyes searched mine. “I’m going to fuck it up.”
“Probably.” I leaned down, bringing our faces closer. “I will too. We’ll piss each other off and say shit we don’t mean and make each other crazy.”
“That’s not exactly a selling point.”
“Yeah, but the making up will be incredible.”
His mouth curved. Almost a smile. Almost. “You’re such a cocky bastard.”
“You love it.”
“I really don’t.”
“Liar.”
His grip on my wrist tightened. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you, Ash. The whole time I’ve been stuck here, every goddamn minute, you’ve been in my head.”
“Good.” I shifted, angling my head. “Because you’ve been driving me insane since before I even got hired. Watching you perform, seeing you own that stage like you were born for it. I took this job because of you, you know?”
“I know.”
“You did?”
“Riley told me.” His free hand came up to my hip, fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt. “Said you had it bad. That I was an idiot for not seeing it.”
“She’s not wrong.”
“No.” His voice dropped lower. “She’s really not.”
I closed the distance. Pressed my mouth to his and felt him open immediately, no hesitation, no holding back.
He tasted like the curry, and it clashed with the chickpea residue, but it was fucking perfect.
His hand slid from my hip to my lower back, pulling me closer even though the angle was awkward.
I tangled my fingers deeper in his hair and kissed him harder.
Not the rough, aggressive way we’d kissed before when it was all anger and frustration and trying to win.
This was different. Slower. Like we had time now.
Like we didn’t have to rush because we weren’t stealing moments in dark corners anymore and hurrying before we changed our minds.
When I finally pulled back, his pupils were blown wide, and his lips were swollen, and he looked at me like I was something he wanted to keep.
That look stirred something primal in me. Something that made my blood run hot and my fingers tighten in his hair. I wanted him so damn much. I wanted to tear apart whatever remained of his defensive walls and claim every inch of him until there was nothing left between us.
“Get up,” I growled.