11. Giselle
“You didn’t have to come with me.” Giselle shifted in the passenger seat of her hatchback while Jude, crammed into the front seat, drove them into the nearest grocery store parking lot. The two-toned gray of the overcast skies promised the chance of rain, but they had no plans to be outside long. “I could’ve switched the recipe and worked with what I had at home.”
“Maybe, but you sounded so excited about apple fritter bread. So, we’re going to get everything we need to make it,” Jude murmured as he searched for a parking spot, finding one in the row closest to Cookie Creamsicle.
Giselle’s go-to grocery store, an independently owned one, resided in the same shopping center as the beloved ice cream parlor. With the drizzly weather, she and Jude arranged to stay inside for the afternoon and bury themselves under a mountain of baked goods. But at the last minute, Giselle noticed several key ingredients missing, prompting their impromptu rush to the grocery store.
She and Jude climbed out of the car and met around the back for the reusable tote bags she brought to the store. Giselle carried them and peered at him. “Alright, I have a list for everything, so we should be in and out.”
“Sounds good to me.” Jude nodded.
Together, they headed past the cluster of shops pushed together in a row. There was a dry cleaners sandwiched in between Cookie Creamsicle and a tutoring place for the local students. But two doors down from there, a French-style bistro with its semi-busy patio caught Giselle’s eyes. She didn’t recognize the restaurant, but the faces of James and some of the others packed into a table on the patio set off every warning bell in her head.
She and Jude were long overdue for a James run-in, so the universe gave them a one on a silver platter.
“Jude,” she whispered, turning her head away from the table with her ex-boyfriend and his friends. “James and the others are here.”
Jude lurched to a stop, nearly stumbling over his Oxfords when they scraped against the pavement. “Where?”
“To our left… at the cafe.”
“I see them. Keep walking and don’t pay attention to them. If they see us, then let them talk and stare. Showtime, remember?”
Giselle nodded despite the lump in her throat. “Showtime.” She repeated, but the two quickened their pace toward the grocery store. Somewhere around the stacks of grocery carts, Jude’s arm slid around her shoulder.
“Don’t look now… they’ve gotten out of their seats, and James was looking in our direction.”
“Okay, don’t let them catch us staring back.”
“I can be subtle.”
Giselle grabbed a cart and ducked inside the grocery store with Jude attached to her side. She smiled at the strangers they passed through the aisles of produce, moving toward the baking section at the back of the store.
Giselle trusted Jude to play look-out, seeing his head on a swivel while they strolled through the store—no need to panic. Everything would be okay.
“We have a problem,” Jude said, bursting her bubble almost immediately after she calmed her quickened pulse. And never mind. “We have two spectators on our tail.”
“James?” Giselle cringed at the soft quiver in her voice. It was one thing for James to stare while in the same place, but following after them like some unhinged stalker marked a new low.
“No, Valentina and Jayden. James couldn’t be bothered to do the snooping himself, so he sent his righthand women instead.”
“I’m not sure whether that’s a good thing.”
“So, we play it up for them in case they tell James all about it. Want me to give them something to talk about?” Jude asked.
“What did you have in mind?” Giselle pushed them around the corner, speeding up a little. Jude didn’t struggle to match her strides, his arm still coiled around her shoulders.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jude assured her as his arm slid down her back, skipping past her waist and the small of her back. Giselle’s breath caught when his hand tucked into the pocket of her jeans, resting comfortably with his warm palm radiating through the denim. Oh. “This okay for you?”
“Jayden might body slam me when she sees your hand in my pants. . . wait, I didn’t mean it like that!” Giselle coughed hard in the rush to overcorrect, but the damage had been done.
“Hah, yeah.” Red painted over Jude’s features, and his eyes widened, realizing what she said on a slight delay. He stammered a little but bit down on his lip instead while the flush deepened around his cheeks. Giselle imagined she looked the same, feeling the telltale heat from her cheeks to her chest, partially hidden behind her favorite striped sweater. If she hadn’t pulled her hair back into a ponytail, she would’ve used it to shield her face from Jude until the embarrassment went away.
Despite their mutual reaction, Jude’s hand stayed firmly tucked into her back pocket and held her close. Talk about a cheeky image to get stuck in Valentina and Jayden’s heads.
Giselle dragged Jude into the baking aisle as soon as possible and stopped them in front of the sugar shelves. She turned to him, forgetting the cart for a moment.
“Let’s wait it out to see if we’ve lost them,” Giselle suggested, keeping her voice low. She had eyes on one end of the aisle while Jude could watch the other, waiting in bated breath for Valentina and Jayden to show up.
A minute barely passed before Jude cleared his throat, eyes dropping to her. “They walked in on my side, and they’re coming closer.”
Giselle swallowed. “Okay. Kiss me.”
Jude didn’t hesitate. With his hand still in the pocket of her jeans, he pushed her toward his chest and crushed his lips against hers. Similar to their first staged kiss, he led the way with a confidence that would make her weak in the knees if she didn’t know the kiss was fake. But her hands slid up his chest, fisting the fabric of his turtleneck to eliminate the space between them. She didn’t want there to be room for doubt between their bodies.
The way Jude’s mouth moved against hers leaped clear over the line of a cute, chaste embrace while grocery shopping. He tugged her lower lip between his teeth, and Giselle’s heart stuttered, tightening her grip. Where did that come from? And why did she like it?
As quickly as their fake-out make out began, Jude pulled out of the embrace with his chest heaving and his lips slightly swollen. Something dark flashed over his eyes while he looked at her, vanishing when he lifted his gaze to behind Giselle.
“Sorry, are we in your way?” he asked, tone as polite as possible. But it lacked a warm familiarity, the one usually radiating off his voice when talking to her. Giselle’s eyes traced up the tense edge of his jaw, clenched hard while he stared at the people behind her.
“No. We’re good,” Valentina remarked coolly in response. Giselle heard the shuffling of feet on the linoleum floors, squeaking under the soles of someone’s sneakers. Jayden’s. “C’mon, Jay.”
The footsteps retreated down the aisle until Giselle couldn’t hear them anymore, not above the noise from the other patrons, at least. Her eyes remained on Jude long after Jayden and Valentina left.
Jude’s turtleneck sported a small rumple in its otherwise immaculately ironed appearance, courtesy of her grabby hands while making out like their lives depended on it. He breathed hard still and met her eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. You?”
“I could be worse. That was. . . a good kiss. Good job.”
“Thank you,” Giselle’s voice cracked a little. Her eyes dropped to his mouth when the light caught the flash of something shimmery and a little too pink. “Uh, you have some gloss on your lip.”
Jude’s brow furrowed, and he wiped a hand across his lips but missed most of the transferred lip gloss on his lower lip. “Did I get it?”
“No. Let me get it for you.” Giselle pushed onto her tiptoes and swiped her thumb across his lips. She took a few tries, but she cleaned the lip gloss off. “There. Got it all.”
“Thanks,” Jude murmured, eyes locked with hers. The darkness previously overshadowing him dissipated, and his eyes returned to the earthy shade, softening while they lingered.
“No worries,” Giselle said, holding her face steady while he slipped his hand out of her back pocket. The curtain fell over their little performance, yet the air buzzed hard like the thundering of applause rained down on them. What a beautiful, maddening lie. “I need some powdered sugar for our baking today, so let’s grab that and everything else.”
“—You should’ve seen the look on their faces. I caught James staring as we walked out, and he broke his water glass from slamming it down too hard.” Jude’s laugh muffled behind the grocery bags loaded in his arms.
Giselle fumbled with the keys in her hand, unable to keep herself together. “Seriously? I feel bad for whoever cleaned up that mess. He’s such a jerk.”
“You’ve proven once again that you’re a better person than he could dream of being,” Jude held the door with his Oxford once Giselle unlocked it, gesturing for her to head inside. “Where do you want these?”
“On the counter, please. We’ll be using all of them to make the fritter bread.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Giselle intended an equally cheeky response, but her hands swept over her jeans for her phone. She patted every pocket, coming up empty. She left it in the car.
“Head inside without me. I forgot my phone in the car,” Giselle said, stepping back onto the porch. Jude nodded and headed inside to the kitchen with their groceries.
Giselle bounded down the stairs for her car, parked on the side of the street. Although the gloom persisted without a hint of sunshine, Giselle could overlook gray skies with the neighbors starting to hang up their holiday decorations in their yards. Maybe it was childish, but December meant shimmering Christmas lights everywhere she looked and the promise of spring on the other side.
Besides, after another successful dating dupe pulled over James and the others, Giselle craved some relaxation. Her house became a place for Giselle and Jude to simply be Giselle and Jude, not a Beauregard and a nobody or madly in love. They”d share a meal, find something introverted to do, not perform for any watchful eyes, and just be friends.
He would make someone the happiest girl alive one day… he certainly showed her how happy she could be in someone else’s company.
Giselle climbed into the passenger seat, searching for her phone. She peered in the crack between the seat and blindly fumbled around until her fingers grazed the plastic exterior of her floral phone case. It must’ve slipped out while she rushed to grab the groceries.
As she fished the phone from the tight crevice, the rumbling of a car’s engine approached but didn’t grow quieter. Her head popped up when the sound cut out; there one moment and gone the next. She spotted a familiar SUV parked across the street, shortly preceded by the slam of car doors.
Giselle froze, stopped in her tracks by the sight of her parents. She still lived with them, but she never saw them. When she was around sixteen, a notable rift began to grow between her and her parents. Her parents had been present before then, making them the typical middle-class family, but a strained separation always lingered. Hindsight gave her answers, but she still missed the pieces to understand why.
“Mom? Dad?” Giselle climbed out of the passenger seat, gripping onto the door for support. Her mom noticed her first, pulling back her loose copper curls into a rushed topknot and almost jumping when noticing Giselle in the driveway. An ill-fitting reaction to seeing her daughter; she acted like Giselle was a ghost.
”Giselle.” She cleared her throat, and Giselle watched her dad”s face schooled into a polite smile. Polite as in tepid and inoffensive, but not the warm welcome of a loving dad. ”We won”t be here long. Your dad needed to grab his coat.”
”I don”t mind. Actually, if you wouldn”t mind staying for a minute, there”s someone I”d like to introduce you to,” Giselle said.
”Oh? And who would that be? A friend of yours?”
”My boyfriend.”
”Giselle, sweet pea, we”ve met your boyfriend before. Josh or Justin, right?” Her dad coughed, which pulled Giselle”s mouth into a forcefully taut line before she could say something regrettable.
”James is my ex-boyfriend. We broke up months ago; I told you two that after it happened.” Giselle”s throat ached while she chose her words carefully, keen to dance around the disappointment welling in her chest. Today wouldn”t be the first instance of her parents” forgetfulness and likely not the last.
”So, you have a new boyfriend?” asked her mom, whose fidgeting grew visibly frantic. She looked ready to be anywhere else.
”I do, and he”s here. I”d like to introduce you to him if you could spare a few moments.” Giselle tucked her hands behind her back, and the sharp pierce of her nails sank into the skin of her wrist. Could they seriously let her down another time?
”Sweet pea, we already have plans.”
She watched her dad jog up the driveway and poke his head inside long enough to grab a coat. Giselle’s mouth twisted hard, and her nails dug harder into her skin, dragging back the disappointment kicking and screaming in her chest.
“Forget I said anything,” Giselle mumbled under her breath and slammed her car door shut. She turned, marching toward the house instead of watching her parents flee to the safety of their car. She couldn’t pinpoint the day her parents stopped loving her, but she knew it happened somewhere along the way without them telling her.
Tears threatened to fall, but she forced them back, tired of crying over her parents disappointing her. Hadn’t she been let down one too many times to let them do it again?
Her excitement to bake deflated, and Giselle wandered into the kitchen, preparing to change her plans. But when she saw Jude standing at the window in the kitchen with the orange-patterned apron pulled over his head, she changed her mind again. He never let her down.
Jude tapped against the window, and a lump of orange fur pressed against the window as Carrot stood on his hind legs in the flower planter she fastened under the window. The cat’s ears flicked up in recognition; he chirped at Jude, nose pressed to the glass with little steam indents. His little canines flashed in his ”smile” while he stretched out, rubbing against the glass. He was playing.
Giselle tucked her hands away, warming them inside the curled sleeves of her sweater. ”If you want, I can let him in. He shelters inside when the weather is bad.”
”As long as you”re comfortable with the trouble he might get into. If you let him in, you”ll want to keep him forever.” Jude chuckled.
”Talk me out of it when I start saying that, okay?” Giselle giggled and hustled for the back door. No sooner than she cracked the door open enough for a cat, Carrot jumped off the plant and darted inside the house.
Oh, she was so about to keep him.
Carrot flopped in the middle of the living room floor, purring louder than a wheezy car engine while his paws kneaded the air. His eyes peered up at Giselle with slow blinking and slightly bared teeth. He didn”t appear in the mood for trouble at all.
She turned back around, finding Jude holding her lemon-patterned apron in his hands. He flashed a tentative smile. “For you?”
”My favorite, actually.” Giselle skipped back into the kitchen and accepted the apron from Jude”s hands. She slid the apron over her head, letting it hang loose and untied while she counted the freshly washed green apples in the sink. ”We ready to get started?”
”One more thing,” Jude”s voice reached her first, closer than she remembered him being, but the gentle pressure of his hand on her side kept her still. Giselle”s breath stalled when Jude”s hands traced down the opposite ends of the apron until he grabbed the ribbons in the back. He moved nimbly, tying the ends together in a snug bow before dropping his hands respectfully.
”There we go. Alright, have you made it or any kind of homemade bread before?”
“I haven’t.” Jude shook his head. “But I’m ready to learn. My head is stuffed full of political theory and hot-take articles written by the most insufferable, opinionated policy analysts.”
“Are your finals tough this semester?”
“They are. Even though I prefer writing essays instead of taking a multiple choice exam, each paper is fifteen to twenty pages with proper Chicago citations.”
Giselle intended to listen; she did. But when Jude stretched, the tightness of his turtleneck captured every flex of his shoulders and back. She traced her eyes over the fabric clinging to his frame and the faint outline of what hid underneath.
“Sounds complicated.” Giselle sifted through the clutter on the counter, counting the measuring cups, tools, and the ingredients for the apple fritter bread. “Are you sure this won’t cause you to miss one of your deadlines?”
Jude grasped her hand with a gentle squeeze. “I promise that spending a few hours with you won’t put me at risk of missing a deadline. Besides, I brought my laptop in case inspiration strikes. You’ve helped me to think outside of the box whenever we talk about my schoolwork.”
Giselle’s heart fully skipped a beat while, under Jude’s warm smile, reduced to a bashful puddle of emotions. She stammered, smiling hard, “So, apple fritter bread needs fresh dough, sliced apples, and a drizzle to add after baking. I wrote it on the sticky note in the middle of the counter.”
“I saw that. Your handwriting is still so much better than mine. Remember when you wrote our lab reports because the teacher said mine looked more like scribbles?”
”I forgot about that. You have a great memory.”
”I try. So, what can I do, boss?”
”I want you to mix the ingredients listed under dough in the order laid out. The dough is the most important part, but I trust you to work carefully. I remember your grades from chemistry and baking isn’t too different.”
Jude gave her a cheeky salute and the softest smirk Giselle had ever seen. He grabbed the measuring cups and tackled the dough with gusto, working under Giselle”s attentive gaze.
She grabbed one of the granny smiths from the colander in the sink and a peeler. Standing over the wooden cutting board from her favorite baking shop, Giselle peeled the thick outer skin of the apple, adorning the cutting board with the mountain of green skin.
The beautiful interruptions of the occasional utensil or Carrot purring from the living room filled the space, undeterred by the lack of walls blocking Jude and Giselle off from the empty house. Giselle”s hands moved with practiced swiftness while she sped through every apple in her bowl, cleaning up behind herself with a flick of her wrist.
“How are your parents?” asked Giselle while she reached over Jude”s bowl to grab her jar of cinnamon sugar. As she stretched back, she admired the state of Jude”s dough, and he was in surprisingly good shape. Nice.
“They’re great,” Jude hummed while saving a spoon from falling off the counter, knocked over in Giselle’s rush. “Right now, they’re at this work event for my dad. I’ll take some of the bread home for them.”
”Please do. And the rest of school? I’m not distracting you from your studies?”
”You’re only distracting on the weekends.”
“Hey!”
“I’m only teasing you. I turned in my scholarship application last night after the third round of self-editing, having my dad read it, and fighting the urge to restart the whole personal statement from scratch. That”s taken up most of my time.” Jude snorted.
”No wonder you couldn”t focus on your other papers. Exactly how much sleep did you get last night?”
”Six hours, which is a functional amount. Besides, I can hibernate for all of winter break.”
Giselle giggled when Jude”s hip collided with hers with a delicate bump, nothing more than a simple poke. She reached for powdered sugar and the remaining milk from her perfect pour.
Her laughter elicited a quiet noise from him, and the sound buzzed in Giselle”s ears. Jude should laugh more often. It suited him.
Her lower lip curled into her teeth, ”Oh, I”m about to sound like a terrible fake girlfriend, but I realized that I never asked what you plan to do with the scholarship money.”
”I never told you, so I”m I guess that makes me a terrible fake boyfriend,” Jude replied while he poked at the dough. Giselle scooted closer to him and pushed on the dough, watching its reaction to her touch. ”Is it ready?”
”Yes. Now, we knead. Do you know how?”
”Not a clue, I”m afraid.”
”Then, I”ll show you. Pour the dough onto the floured part of your cutting board, and we”ll do it together.”
As she asked, the gooey lump of dough plopped harmlessly onto the floured surface. Jude”s earthy eyes sought hers, and Giselle inched closer, tucking into his side. He lifted his arm a little more, and she tucked into the crook between his arm and his side.
Giselle grabbed his hands and positioned them on the dough, layering her hands on top. ”The recipe tells us to knead for up to five minutes, so we need to apply a good amount of force. . . erm don”t be afraid to get a little rougher.”
She squeaked out the last part, more suggestive than she initially intended. Jude didn”t remark on it, but her proximity to his chest gave her ample chance to hear the deep, rumbly sound in his chest when Jude hummed.
Her eyes fought against heaviness from the warmth seeping off Jude’s body and spreading across hers. Giselle could fall asleep standing up if Jude kept her in his arms. She blinked hard, managing to stay alert.
Giselle motioned in a demonstration of how to knead, and Jude mimicked her movements, keeping her hands laid on top of his. He proved a quick study with how fast he picked up the motion she pressed into the back of the palm, applying his technique to the dough.
”How”s this?” Jude asked after a lapse of silence, and his voice softened in concentration.
”This is great. You”re doing a great job.”
”I had a great teacher, so all the credit goes to you.”
Giselle giggled but quieted after a moment. ”What were you going to tell me about your scholarship?” she murmured between kneading the dough, aware of the stinging gathering in her joints through her arms.
”I plan to return to graduate school and get my Ph.D. to become a political scientist. It”s not the flashiest of jobs; political scientists study data and their connection to politics and adjacent subjects like economics or law. Political scientists can help shape policy for the better, learn more about how people interact with the world around them, and illustrate how all roads lead back to the old Aristotle adage that man is a political animal. It”s dorky, I know.”
Giselle hadn”t realized she fell utterly silent while Jude talked. He spoke quietly but confidently, underlined with a passion reminiscent of her love for gardens and flowers. Intelligence brimmed off every word, utterly in a league of his own.
”That”s amazing, Jude.”
”Did I leave you speechless, dove?”
”A little, yeah!” Giselle laughed. ”I wish I sounded half as brilliant as you. There”s no chance anyone else can beat you for the scholarship, not even James and his dad”s money.”
”Well, never say never. Besides, James has the standard answer of pre-law and elite scholarships love lawyer types.” Jude shrugged.
”Yeah, but he doesn”t have the passion you do. He never has. Did you know his parents paid like five different people to write his college applications for him?” Giselle whispered, glancing around beforehand as if someone would magically overhear her spilling James” dirtiest laundry.
”Is that so?” he whispered back, as if we weren’t alone with no one to overhear us.
”He complained that he wouldn”t have gotten in otherwise, but I didn”t find out until his sophomore year. He excused it by saying that everyone fudges the rules sometimes.”
Jude lets out a humorless laugh. ”What a loser. Maybe he needs to cheat to win, but I don’t think he’ll get very far. He’s been off his game ever since you and I started ‘dating.’ So, you’re my secret weapon.”
Giselle chewed on the inside of her cheek. ”You”re right. James is a loser, but I should be thanking him for what he made me realize.”
”And what”s that?” Jude”s kneading slowed when Giselle lifted her hands off his, stopping at her beck and call.
Giselle grabbed the dough and pressed on it, finding it at a perfect consistency. She clutched the bowl and the dish towel to throw on top, packing away the dough to rise.
She barely slid out of Jude”s grasp to set up the filling when his hands curled around her waist, tipping her to face him. His brow cocked. ”Giselle?”
”It”s nothing bad!” Giselle promised, and Jude”s hands dropped accordingly. ”I”m considering going to community college to see if college might be for me.”
Jude”s eyes softened, ”That”s amazing. If you”re excited about it, then so am I. What made you change your mind?”
Giselle shrugged, feeling bashful under his gaze. ”You. Remember our talk back on Halloween? James breaking up with me helped me realize I need a new direction in my life. Community college is affordable, and I’m hoping I discover something new about myself instead.”
”Then, I”m so happy for you. It”s my solemn duty as your fake boyfriend to treat you to dinner at a place of your choice. Who else knows?
”Just you. . . for now. I expect my boss to learn since it”ll change my need for shifts.
”Your parents weren”t the first to know?” Jude blinked, prompting Giselle to shake her head. Definitely not. They didn”t listen to her about her break-up with James, and college plans would be no different.
”Nope.” Giselle tried to play it so nonchalantly. “I wanted you to know first.”
She offered him a smile but didn”t anticipate Jude”s arms snaking around her waist or how he grasped her in a tight embrace. Her feet came off the ground, so her arms curled along his back, holding herself up. A soft gasp slid off her tongue when Jude”s chin lay on her shoulder, but she didn”t fight the hug. Giselle sank in, planting her roots in the safe garden of his arms.
Jude knew what she needed, maybe better than she did. His presence in her life was real, no matter whether they put on pretend kisses for curious eyes or wasted hours away on “dates.” Whatever they were to one another, Giselle knew one thing.
She never wanted Jude to leave.