5. Drunk Secrets
Drunk Secrets
Solace
Bridget turned the music down as we turned onto Ransom’s street. “You’re being weirdly quiet.”
“I’m not,” I lied, staring out the window.
“You’ve checked your reflection in the mirror six times.”
“I have not.”
“You absolutely have.”
I rolled my eyes but didn’t deny it, because I had checked my reflection—eight times actually.
Twice while she was pumping gas. The neighborhood was already lit up ahead of us.
String lights looped from the trees in Jude’s front yard, music spilling into the street in warm, pulsing waves.
Cars lined both sides of the road and someone whooped loud enough that it echoed.
“He throws one party and suddenly he’s Gatsby,” Bridget muttered, bangles chiming with each arm movement.
My face screwed up. I hadn’t seen him since that night outside my bedroom window.
We texted, obviously, but mostly it had been jokes and videos.
Sometimes articles about space debris and my orchestral arrangements.
He’d sent me a video of a rocket test; I’d sent him a clip of a string quartet playing under a meteor shower.
Only to shut my phone off for three days afterwards, hoping he didn’t think too hard about the fact that it had been titled "Lover’s Orbit. "
Seeing him in person was reentry, and my dinner threatened to make a reappearance as Bridget slowed the car.
“You’re nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.” I pressed my lips together.
I was nervous. It had been fourteen months, eight days, five hours, three minutes and seventeen seconds since I’d last seen Jude Ransom.
If you didn’t count the brief afternoon of bowling at Christmas break where we’d met up with our extended friend group.
That summer night came back in flashes. The camping chair dragged through the gravel.
The warm air. The satellites blinking across the dark.
Sharing the sky with you is worth more than one blazing second.
It may have well been tattooed across my eyeballs considering how often I’d thought of him.
Of that line. Of our terrible fate. Of the fact that I was helplessly crushing on my best friend with absolutely no solution in sight.
Inside, the house was somehow busier than it looked from the street.
Jude lived in a modestly sized mid-century modern home with his mom and grandma after his grandfather passed away.
Ever since Rose started her own design business, they’d been fixing the place up.
The result was expensive and chic. Rose was talented, and I had no dignity where their floor-to-ceiling glass walls were concerned.
Even back when it still had orange shag carpet, I could’ve been convinced to move in.
The living room was packed with bodies, and strobe lights pulsed overhead throwing colors against every clean and once sterile surface. His grandma was going to kill him, that was for sure. Ji-yoo was serious about her white rugs and priceless family heirlooms.
“Want to grab a drink first?” Bridget blew a kiss to Luca as she tugged my elbow toward the kitchen, where our classmates were stumbling out with red Solo cups in hand.
“No, that’s okay. I’m not thirsty.”
She rolled her eyes. “Maybe not for shitty beer.” Bumping her hip against mine, she whisper-yelled, “Thirsty for Ransom, though!”
“Bridget!” Heat flooded my entire body as a shadow fell over us, then a very solid chest pressed lightly against my back. Bridget’s eyes went wide, then she smiled.
“Ransom what?”
I froze.
The voice was low, familiar, and right against my ear. Bridget’s grin went feral as my stomach sank. Slowly, I turned my head.
Jude stood directly behind me—taller than I remembered, and somehow broader too. His T-shirt stretched across his shoulders, and he smelled faintly of clean soap and summer air.
My face burned hotter.
“Are you thirsty?” he asked lightly.
Internally, I was groaning and imagining bashing Bridget upside the head. “No,” I laughed. “Bridget was just saying something.”
“I was just telling Solace she should go look for you. I’m thirsty.” The traitor squeezed my arm once, victorious, and announced, “I’m going to go hydrate.” Bridget’s wink was downright evil as she backed away, and made her grand wing-woman exit.
I glared after her, watching as Luca set his own drink down and trailed behind her like a loyal golden retriever. I shook my head, willed my heart to stop racing, and finally turned fully to face Jude.
Up close, it was worse. His eyes were brighter. A little more certain. And suddenly texting turned into a child’s game. “Hi,” I managed.
His mouth curved slowly, and he stepped forward wrapping me up in a hug so sudden and solid my feet left the ground.
“Jude!” I yelped, laughter muffled by the bass of the speakers as he spun me around before setting me back down. “When did you get so tall?” I blurted, craning my neck.
He blinked down at me, amused. “I’ve been taller than you since eighth grade.”
I’d almost forgotten that easy, dangerous smile.
It took me a second to realize he’d already let go and I was still holding on.
Both hands wrapped around his biceps. Oh my god.
Get it together, Solace. “Yeah.” I fumbled to the side, catching my balance.
“But not this tall.” I dropped them like I’d been burned and took a half-step back. “Sorry,” I muttered.
“For what?”
“For—” I gestured vaguely between us.
His eyes softened a fraction. “I didn’t mind.”
My mouth moved before my brain could catch up. “So—how was school?”
He barked out a laugh, folding his arms over his chest. Which, unfortunately, only made things worse.
When did he get so broad? He’d always been athletic, but this was different.
He was like, solid now. Defined. The sleeves of his T-shirt stretched over muscle that absolutely had not been there last summer. Heat crept up my neck.
“It was good.” He was still smiling at me, completely oblivious to my staring. “Really good, actually.”
I nodded. “That’s amazing.” Okay Solace, stop nodding. I smoothed my palms over my jean shorts instead.
“Yeah, the classes are insane. Hard, but in a good way. And I’ve been working in one of the labs a few nights a week.” His eyes lit up in that way they always did when he talked about space or circuits or anything remotely science related.
Our brains were hardwired differently. He spoke in mathematical equations, and mine in beats per measure. I liked that about us.
“My software works so well they’re integrating it into a larger system.”
My heart skipped. “It does?”
He nodded, stepping a little closer—not enough to be obvious, but enough that I could see the faint scar near his wrist from when he’d burned himself soldering in ninth grade.
“We ran some atmospheric simulations. Radiation detection, particulate density, fluctuations in background levels. It’s pretty damn accurate.” He shook his head, almost disbelieving. “If all goes well, it could monitor the atmosphere in real time.”
“For what?”
“For anything,” he said. “Solar flares. Reactor leaks. If there was ever a nuclear event…” He hesitated, then shrugged one shoulder.
“It could give people time. It could map survivable zones. Predict fallout patterns.” He said it so casually, as if it was only another project and not that he had built something that might one day save humanity.
“That’s incredible, Jude.” I meant it. Every ounce of it.
“You’re incredible.” He looked at me as if I’d knocked the air out of him, and I immediately wanted to take it back.
But I didn’t. Instead, I stood there, nodding like an idiot, trying not to stare at the way his arms flexed when he uncrossed them.
Incredible, you’re incredible, it’s incredible—how many damn times could I say the word incredible? I wanted to scrub my brain clean.
“What about you? I watched your performance over FaceTime.”
“How?” I choked out a laugh. “I was going to send you the video but I forgot.”
He shrugged. “Milo. I wanted to watch it live.” He scratched his jaw, where a shadow of stubble was beginning to appear. “I’ve actually watched every performance live all year thanks to your brother.”
I tucked my hair behind my ear, fingers rubbing needlessly at the ends of a strand. “All of them?” There was a two hour time difference between us, and all my performances had been in the late evening. Which meant he’d stayed up far past his usual bedtime.
He nodded, expression warping earnestly. “I wouldn’t miss them.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I batted his chest playfully, feeling a strange surge of confidence. Maybe it was the way he was looking at me. Maybe it was the warmth carried on the summer breeze, or the thudding bass. Either way, I took a step closer.
And so did he. Until the toes of my Vans were touching his sneakers.
“I missed you.” He said it as if it was the beginning and the end. Like nothing else mattered.
My head swam. “I missed you too.”
It happened so fast, I hadn’t even realized we were still standing directly in the entryway. “Watch it—” someone shouted, but before I could move, Jude’s hand wrapped around my waist and tugged me sharply out of the way. The door slammed open where I’d been standing a second earlier.
Now I was flat against his chest.
“Ransom!” A tall guy with dark hair and a NASA hoodie that matched the one I’d stolen from Jude stepped forward, grinning wide. “Dude!”
“Elias,” Jude greeted the guy, reaching around me to clasp his hand. “I didn’t think you’d actually make it.”
I tried to turn, but Jude held tight, the other hand splayed against my back. I could feel the warmth of his skin through my shirt. I managed to turn in his arms, back pressed to his chest.
“Wouldn’t miss this.” Elias’s eyes flicked to me.
“This is Solace,” Jude added. His face was so close I could turn and kiss his cheek.
I stiffened and his hand flexed lightly at my waist, fingers now touching the bare skin of my hip.