Chapter 19 Nora
NORA
NORA: Help
SASHA: OMG are you okay? I’m at the theatre with my family but I can call?
NORA: No, not urgent. I’m just hiding out. Can’t see Jude RN. Couldn’t see him last night either.
SASHA: Did you bang?
NORA: Rude!
SASHA: Well?
NORA: No. Sasha, he told me he hasn’t touched a woman in almost 8 years.
SASHA: …
NORA: He’s celibate, Sash. But then
I’m about to type more, but there’s a knock on my door. I freeze, the phone in my hand.
SASHA: ?!?!?!
SASHA: THEN WHAT?!?!?!
“Miss? Room service!”
I let out a breath, my shoulders relaxing. When I answer the door, Gunther’s eyes bug out.
I look down. I’m wearing my favorite shirt for sleeping in, a threadbare T-shirt with Mickey Mouse on the front in black and white.
“You like Mickey Mouse?” I ask inanely as I hold the door open for him to pass through with my food.
“Uh, yes? I do very much,” Gunther says, not meeting my eye as he wheels the cart in.
“Great. Me too.” This has to be the weirdest conversation. “Why are you doing room service today?” I ask. “I thought you only helped with bags.”
“I am swimming,” he says, looking back down at Mickey and blushing furiously.
What is with him and Mickey Mouse? Did he kiss his first girl at Disneyland Paris or something? Then I register what he said. “Swimming?” I screw up my face as he sets down the tray on my little side table.
“Floating?” Gunther asks.
“Oh, you’re a floater,” I say, understanding.
Gunther stands there inspecting my ceiling. He’s embarrassed I’m in my PJs, that’s all. It’s only a top after all; my bare legs stick out the bottom.
Just then there’s another knock on the door. But this one comes from the interior door.
Jude. He’s been knocking periodically every few hours, even once at midnight last night before he got the hint.
I know I’m being a chicken. I just don’t know what to say to him yet. Not since that kiss that completely destroyed me. The only real communication we’ve had is me texting him to let him know I wouldn’t be making it down for dinner last night.
“Nora?” Jude calls, his voice muffled.
“I will get that,” Gunther says, spinning.
“Oh, that’s okay,” I say. “You don’t need to—”
But Gunther must take that as me being polite because he goes ahead and does it anyway, swinging the door open to find Jude standing there about to knock on his forehead.
“Oh,” Jude says. Then he looks over his shoulder to where I’m standing next to my table. “Nora, you’re in your pajamas.”
“Yes, Jude.” I sink down, giving up. “It’s early.”
I’m hungry. I only ate from the minibar last night. As I dig into my waffles, Jude reaches into his pocket for a euro note, and hands it to Gunther. “Thanks G, that’s all.”
Gunther looks at me a beat too long, and Jude claps a hand on his shoulder, manhandling him in the direction of the exit.
Gunther scurries out, and after the door clicks behind him, I’m alone with Jude.
I hear the snap of my bathing suit, somehow the sexiest sound in the world. After the clinic room, I ran straight back here and got myself off in the tub again, this time staring at the door between our rooms, praying he’d somehow find a way to bash through it.
He couldn’t, of course, and when he did knock later, I ignored him.
He comes back to the entrance to the room, and for a moment, we lock gazes.
Then his eyes drop. I can feel his gaze on my body.
Heat rushes between my legs. Is he going to come over here? Will he kiss me again? The ball has to be in his court; I can’t throw myself at him again. I just can’t.
But his eyes dance away from me, looking sideways.
“Wonder what that was about?” I ask, my voice overly chipper. I stuff my face with a bite of waffle to hide my nerves.
Jude leans against the wall. “Those are your see-through pajamas,” he says matter-of-factly. “Gunter was staring at you because he could see your…you know.”
“My what?” I squeak. I look down. All I can see is Mickey. “No, they’re not.”
“Okay,” Jude says. “They’re not.”
Then his eyes go pointedly to my breasts.
I’ve seen myself in the mirror with this pajama shirt on.
It’s innocent. Though I haven’t worn them since I got to London…
and my mirror in my apartment back in Quince Valley had bad lighting.
Oh God. I walk over to the desk/vanity combo on the side of the room and look in the mirror over it.
My nipples are clearly visible. The whole curve of my breasts are visible.
I swallow the mushy bite of waffle before I’ve properly chewed it.
Then I cough, nearly choking. I have to reach for the glass of water on the tray.
Jude comes over, clapping me on the back.
“I know how you feel,” he says. “It’s how I feel every time you’ve worn those around me.”
“You’re teasing me,” I cough.
“I am, but I’m not lying. How else would I know you’re wearing those pink underwear you wear when you’re feeling out of sorts?”
I drop the fork I’m still holding with a clatter. Then I fold my arms across my chest. “Why haven’t you ever told me?”
“I tried. I said, ‘You need new pajamas’ more than once. I bought you some, remember?”
I remember. I remember him saying that too, and him never looking at me when I wore them. “I thought you just really didn’t like them.”
“I like everything you wear, Nora,” Jude says, his mouth muffled.
He’s sprawled out in the chair next to mine at the table, eating my waffles. “Hey!” I run back to the table, grabbing my plate back. This is just like old times with us, only not really, not after these past few days.
And now I’m sitting next to him in see-through pajamas. But I’m too proud to get back up and cover up, so I sit there with my arm folded over the table to try to hide my chest.
My cheeks are hot as I stuff a bite of waffle in my mouth. I swallow, then ask, “Why are you here, Jude?”
“Because you can’t hide anymore. Cap’s been asking about you nonstop.”
Guilt twinges. I miss him. And this thing with Jude is getting in the way of me seeing him.
“Well, I’m all ready to hang out with him today. Maybe I could take him out somewhere, give Farrah a break.” It’d be a good break from Jude.
“I already promised him you’d come tubing with us today.”
I freeze. “What?”
“You heard me. He can’t wait. We’re meeting at the chair lift in”—he glances at his watch—“twenty minutes.
“Jude, flying down a mountain in an inner tube isn’t exactly the kind of thing I’m any good at.” It also sounds terrifying. “Besides, the book says it takes ten minutes to get over to the lift from here!”
“Guess you should have answered my texts sooner then.”
I don’t have to look at my phone to know there’s a whole string of texts from him. And probably Sasha too. She’s going to murder me for dropping that and running. I make a mental note to text her later.
I take a breath and look over at Jude. He’s examining me with what looks like a smirk. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Maybe.”
“Did you choose tubing as today’s activity?”
“Maybe.”
He did, too. He’s playing with me. Fine. I can play. “Why did you kiss me yesterday?”
Jude doesn’t miss a beat. “Because I wanted to.”
Irritation flickers through me. “So it’s okay for you to kiss me but not me to kiss you?”
“You could kiss me now, see how it goes?”
My stomach flips. This is a risky game. I don’t play these. Do I? Heart thumping, I ask, “What happened to your vow of celibacy?”
Jude finally looks away. “I don’t know. Maybe kissing doesn’t count.”
Feeling bold, I sit back. “How about watching me?”
Jude looks rattled for the first time. He plucks a slice of cantaloupe from my plate—“I don’t have all the answers, Nor.”
I feel that urge again, that little tingle I’m starting to recognize as me doing something daring.
“Would you really give up eight years to sleep with me?” I ask. “If the opportunity presented itself?”
Jude freezes, the cantaloupe half eaten in his hand. “Are you asking me to sleep with you, Nora?”
Am I? “No,” I say. The tingle’s stronger now. An urge. Is this what playing pro tennis was like? “I’m asking if you would. If you want to.” I don’t ask that in a self-effacing way. I ask it like I’m completely neutral on the subject. If Sasha were here, she’d be hooting.
Emboldened, I choose that moment to lower my arm from my chest. I may not have Jude’s natural charm, but I have some assets.
Jude swallows, his eyes locked on my chest. Then he quickly closes them. “Yes, Nora. I want to.”
It’s not the same as going ahead with it, but I still love the thrill of having the upper hand for what feels like the first time ever.
“Good to know,” I say. Then I stand up. “Guess I better get ready, huh?”
I walk away from the table toward the bathroom. I know he won’t be late meeting Cap. It’s a thing with him; he hated it when his dad was late. He said it used to make him anxious. So he never leaves Cap wondering where he is.
I know all this, so it makes me bold enough to do what I do next: I peel off my shirt, tossing it on the bed as I pass so Jude can watch me walk away from him in only the little pink underwear he’s apparently so familiar with.
This time the clatter of the fork isn’t from me.
Of course, the day on the mountain turns out to be exactly what I need. Cap and Farrah are around, so there’s no way for Jude and me to interact without their eyes on us, and it’s just the four of us hopping into inner tubes, throwing ourselves down the side of the mountain.
I was nervous at first—extreme sports aren’t really my thing. But I still went ahead to show Cap it wasn’t too bad. A few runs later and I even stopped screaming.
Cap wouldn’t go on his own the first few runs. He’d sit in Jude’s lap mostly, though he did a couple with me once I’d gotten used to it, and one with Farrah.