12. Jude
Sitting behind the wheel of his restored coupé cabriolet, Jude drove down the winding coastal road. After unexpected rain, the sun returned for a warm winter afternoon with the boisterous sea breeze sweeping over Del Mesa.
Once he submitted his last final, Jude returned home for winter break—home to his family. . . and Giselle.
To keep up appearances, she and he arranged to see each other often during the break. A few times, they stayed indoors. But several others, like that day’s excursion, ventured into the public eye, and each time, they ran into someone they knew.
Despite the arrangement starting as his plan, Giselle took to the fake girlfriend act all too well. It probably helped that she was easy to love, but Jude caught himself slipping when Giselle played with his hair for a second too long or stared at him through those lashes.
The commitment to their lie eclipsed everything, including the occasional moments when Jude forgot that he and Giselle weren’t actually dating.
”We”re almost to the Ridge,” Jude remarked, fixing the angle of his rearview mirror despite the empty road stretching for miles behind them. He tipped his head toward Giselle in the front passenger seat, fixing her lip gloss in her compact mirror. Her freshly done curls spun in the sea breeze while they zipped down the road, as free as the ocean. ”Could you grab my wallet?”
”Oh! Sure thing!” Giselle shouted over the wind, dropping the compact into her lap for her purse. She rummaged into the tote bag and handed over the wallet, carrying it since his choice of shorts didn”t come with pockets.
”Thanks.”
”No worries. Do you mind if I ask you something?”
”You never have to ask. Speak your mind.”
Jude glanced at her in his peripheral, partially obscured by his sunglasses perched on his nose. He flipped them to rest on his head as the Ridge closed in, sporting a line of cars waiting for entry.
He slid them into line, stuck behind a dozen other cars with their blinkers flashing in uniform. Giselle remained silent beyond the occasional fidgety shuffle, keeping the tension alive. But Jude wouldn”t rush her.
Sometimes, the words took time.
In the silence, Jude steered the car through the gate and into the roundabout, focusing on the road. But after too long, he cleared his throat. ”Everything”s okay. . . right? You went quiet for a little while.”
His eyes sought Giselle”s and noticed her swipe at her eyes quickly, raising a silent alarm.
”Sorry, I got lost in thought for a moment,” Giselle replied, but her voice”s lack of strain or cry soothed Jude”s knee-jerk panic. She reached over and gave his hand a soft squeeze. ”Before you came to pick me up, I realized that we forgot one small detail about our arrangement.”
”Such as?”
”When do we call this off? If they ask, how will we explain why we broke up?”
Jude paused, pulling into the parking lot after exiting the roundabout, but sucked in a breath. ”What brought this on?”
”You and I are closer now than when we first agreed to this arrangement. So, as pathetic as this sounds, you”re one of my only friends. I don”t want our staged break-up to mean the end of us being friends again,” Giselle murmured, shrinking into her seat. The stray hairs crowded around her brow cast a long shadow over her eyes, darkening her gentle features.
Jude leaned over and snatched her hand in his. His fingers sought hers, and warmth danced upon the press of their palms together, sparking pink into Giselle”s cheeks. He held tight while maneuvering them into the first open parking spot, not letting go for a second.
Hitting the retractable top and the ignition in one fell swoop, the engine puttered to a soft vibration as Jude eased his foot off the brake. When the car silenced, Jude turned halfway in his seat to look at Giselle.
”Hey, look at me,” Jude remarked. Giselle folded, facing him with those round baby blues and the tight line of her pouty pink lips. Worry cascaded from the heavy gaze of her eyes, and the faint tug in the pit of Jude”s chest fell into place. ”Who says our friendship ends when we stop playing boyfriend and girlfriend?”
”I don”t know. Aren”t you not supposed to be friends with your exes?”
”We aren’t exes. But you and I have unique circumstances, so there’s nothing to say we can’t be the exception.”
Giselle”s fingers twitched, causing her eyes and Jude”s to fall toward their interlaced hands. No one backed out of the hold, and their gazes returned to the other, ”You”re right. But that still begs the question of when the end is the end. When do we draw the line between our act and returning to being Judeand Giselle instead of Jude and Giselle?”
”If it”s alright with you, I figured we should wait until we”ve gotten everything we wanted from our pretend relationship. For me, that”s when the scholarship matter is decided or summer rolls around, whichever comes first. But I”m willing to move the goalposts for you. . . this is your call, not mine,” Jude said.
”Not true. We”re in this together until the end,” replied Giselle, shaking her head to the bounce of her loose curls.
”What would you want out of this experience besides my illustrious company?” Jude tried to deliver that as seriously as possible but cracked around halfway with a small snort.
Giselle wasn”t much better from how hard she bit down on her lower lip, smiling a little. ”I didn”t think about a definitive end goal. This sounds bad, but I want James to grovel. I know he’d never give me a sincere apology like I deserve after he wasted my time. But there’s a small part of me that wants him to feel desperate that I’ve slipped too far out of his control.”
”That”s fair. . . but promise me one thing?”
”Anything.”
”No matter how hard he grovels, even if he gets on his knees, don”t get back together with him.”
”Never! After his little demonstration, I”m not dumb enough to get back into his bed. . . metaphorically speaking.”
Jude”s eyes caught onto the darkening of her blush from a hazy pink to burning red hot. His ears fell under the same heat, and the thought of James and Giselle together inspired the urge to ram his head into the steering wheel.
He cleared his throat. ”We”ve derailed the conversation a little, but we could say that you and I split amicably because of long-distance concerns. Should the scholarship go well, I”ll have my choice of schools for my doctoral program, and you might be attending community college. My family would understand me not wanting to uproot you.”
”Maybe, but anyone who knows me knows I”m willing to try long-distance. I don”t give up on the people I love.” Giselle”s face scrunched into a frown, hardening her features.
”Hmmm.” Jude leaned back into his chair. His hand finally slipped from Giselle”s, steepling his fingers together. ”We don’t want people asking too many questions. We’ll think of something another time.”
”Sounds good to me. I”m ready for tennis!” Giselle nearly jumped out of the car like she couldn”t escape the conversation fast enough. However, all the bags at her feet slowed her down enough for Jude to leap out and race to the other side, holding open the door for her.
He offered her his hand and lifted Giselle out of the car, immediately leaning back in for their bags. Giselle got her tote bag, and he carried his tennis duffle, complete with all his favorite gear.
”I”ll be honest.” Jude offered his free arm to Giselle. ”I”m surprised you”re interested in playing tennis with me, but you”ve got the look nailed down.”
Jude”s eyes raked over Giselle”s attire, slow in his appreciation. Giselle begged to come along when he mentioned tennis at the Ridge to blow off some steam. He had shown up to her doorstep, finding her in an ivory tennis skirt, matching cropped top, and a cropped jacket perfect for a few rounds on the court.
Giselle twirled a little, showing off the outfit, and she produced a thin hair tie from her pocket. She pulled her curls into her hand, prime for a ponytail. ”I”ve been intrigued for years. James never taught me.”
”Hold on, are you serious?”
”Yeah. James used to whine that it would be a waste of time to teach me, so he kept me as his benchwarmer and cheerleader during practices. He said I would ”disrupt his mojo” by being distracting. He didn”t want me embarrassing him on the court, probably.”
The twitch in Jude”s jaw threatened to pull a scowl over his face, especially with how James” voice echoed over Giselle”s recollection of his poor excuses. One of these days, James” exaggerated sense of self-importance would take him out.
A golden opportunity presented itself, and Jude wasn”t about to say no.
His arm slid around the back of Giselle”s shoulders, and he flipped his sunglasses down. ”Well, how about I teach you? It would be against my fake boyfriend duties if I didn”t give you a chance to share our hobbies.”
”Really?” Giselle perked up with wide eyes. ”Are you sure it won”t waste your time on the court to show me some moves?”
”Of course not. It’d be my pleasure to show you the ropes.”
Jude escorted Giselle from the parking lot and headed toward the concierge in the main building. He basked in the sunlight beaming down and the salty sea air rustling through the nearby palm fronds, stricken by a latent rush of homesickness.
He”d never admit it, but he missed Del Mesa. The quieter pace of the town welcomed him home, arms wide open for his return, and nothing Los Angeles offered competed with his hometown.
”After you.” Jude guided Giselle indoors, and sunshine surrendered its hold for the ice-cold A/C cranked too high, blasting in his face when the automatic doors slid open. He led her across the polished floors to the concierge desk tucked into a small alcove. ”Do you need anything before we head to the court?”
”I”m good. I brought water like you asked and ate a balanced breakfast,” Giselle assured, shaking her head to the bounce of her ponytail. Against the soft ivory of her outfit, her hair and eyes stood out even more than usual.
”Good. We wouldn”t want you fainting on the court.”
”You”ll catch me if I do, right?” she joked.
”Is that even a question?” Jude whispered under his breath, but Giselle”s expression, going from playful to something undeniably earnest, promised she heard every word. He dodged her raised brow and faced the concierge desk, staffed by a lone worker behind the counter.
”Good afternoon, sir. How may I assist you?” The suit-wearing man asked, fixing his nameplate. He offered Jude a smile, topped off with a pristine posture.
”I”m here to pick up a keycard for the tennis courts. Last name is Beauregard,” Jude remarked. The gentleman ducked behind the computer, hit a few keys, and nodded. He handed over the keycard for the courts.
”Ah, here you are. You have court three reserved for ninety minutes with an automatic tennis ball launcher and some spare rackets already there. Is there anything else you need for your reservation?”
Jude shook his head, tucking the keycard between his fingers tightly. With Giselle tucked under his arm, they left for the courts, embraced by the sunny skies and the seaside air.
Jude led them past the other courts until reaching number three, his personal favorite. As he swiped the keycard, a buzz from the machine sounded, and the door swung wide open.
”After you, Giselle.” He propped the door open with his foot and grinned at his companion, who glanced between him and the tennis courts with her lips ever so parted.
”Why, thank you!” Giselle cooed before flouncing inside, examining the white lines and the tennis launcher tucked in the corner with a racket on top. ”Such a gentleman.”
”I try my best. Let”s grab your racket, and we”ll try some practice with it before any tennis balls enter the equation,” Jude instructed, breaking off from Giselle to toss his duffle on the small bench reserved for spectators. He produced his racket and water bottle for the long ninety minutes ahead.
When he spun around, Giselle appeared behind him with her tote bag and the racket. She peered up at him curiously, but the eagerness in her smile beamed harder than the midday sun.
”What”s the first thing I should know about tennis?”
“How to hold the racket is a good start, followed by the basics of swings and trying out a few test runs. If we have time, then I can explain all the fun intricacies of the game.”
Jude”s hands grasped Giselle”s wrists while he led her to one side of the court. He planted her firmly on the baseline for their respective side and stood behind her.
He pointed toward the opposite side. ”Alright, grips are important. There are four types, but I”m starting with the easiest one to master—the semi-Western. I”ll move your fingers to rest. . . there.”
Jude inched Giselle”s fingers to where she needed them on the racket, sitting nicely on a bevel number four grip. He worked to Giselle”s silence, so prevalent that neither a breath nor a sigh interrupted his focus.
”Semi-Western. . . I”ll do my best to remember that.”
”I”m more than happy to repeat the lesson anytime. Now, we need to get you in the right posture. Do I have permission to touch and adjust?”
”Sure,” Giselle replied quickly, but Jude hesitated, his hand over the small of her back. However, Giselle”s eyes found his, and she nudged him. ”I give you my full consent.”
”Just making sure. It”s what a gentleman does,” Jude whispered against the shell of her ear while his hands lay against her body. Fleeting hands roved across her back and hips, making any adjustments where necessary. Jude intended to keep the touches light and appropriate.
But his hands dipped low and parted Giselle”s thighs a little wider to accommodate a better stance, which elicited a hitched gasp from her. Immediately, his hands retreated from her at the sound and raised for the sky. His heart rate became an inescapable roar in his ears.
”Sorry,” Jude mumbled, but Giselle”s response hid underneath the thundering from his chest. He swallowed. ”Your posture is great for starting out, so we”ll work on some strokes. The two main ones are a forehand and a backhand, but backhand is easier to master.”
Stranded in a sea of scrambled thoughts and suddenly missing knowledge about how to play tennis, Jude glanced around the court for a lifeline. Instead, his gaze wandered to the gate between his court and the next one over when the universe knocked a second wind into him.
Inside the next-door court, the familiar face of James scowled at Jude from the sideline bench, but he wasn”t alone.
Two of James” friends occupied one side of the court, and then two guys from the Del Mesa tennis team during James and Jude”s time—Andrew and Ethan—held down the other. Everyone besides James eyed Jude and Giselle, shock apparent from their slack jaws and wide eyes.
”Jude, is everything okay?” Giselle”s voice pierced through his distracted state, interrupting his staring contest with James, who looked seconds away from rattling the gate and shouting at them for being in his presence.
”Yes.” Jude sidled closer and leaned in, mouth pressed against the shell of her ear. ”Glance over discretely. We have some interesting company.”
”What do you. . . oh?”
”I had no idea he would be here today, but I don”t mind leaving if he”s making you uncomfortable.”
”No, we should stay. We can give our audience the best show of their lives.” Giselle said, and the subtle arch of her hips against his silenced any protest Jude might”ve had.
His eyes dropped to where her ass pushed into his hips, bringing the hemline of the tennis skirt she wore higher on her thighs. His teenage fantasies ran wild because Giselle Courtland’s soft body melded against his like a second skin, with no room left in case the blood continued to rush down south.
Keep it cool, Jude.
Instead, he focused on the optics of the situation. Any outsider would take one look at them—their matching white tennis attire, hushed whispers, and bodies pressed close together—and draw the same inevitable conclusion. A happy couple in passionate, maddening, and downright shameless love.
Jude hid a grin into Giselle”s hair. ”Have I told you how devious you can be?”
”No, but I”m interested,” Giselle hummed while Jude shifted his position. Their bodies melded into one shape, abandoning the word ”space” from their vocabulary. ”Now, how about that backstroke?”
”You”ll want to hold the racket with both hands, similar to how a baseball player holds their bat. When a ball comes your way, you”re supposed to hit it with a slightly upward angle. . . like so,” Jude spoke through each motion, but his hands joined in. One laid over one of Giselle”s, gripping the racket as he instructed. Yet the other hand slid and splayed over her abdomen, pressing down on the tennis skirt she wore.
Giselle became pliant in his hands, bendable like putty and sinking deeper into him with every mimicked stroke. She hummed endearingly each time their swings ”connected.”
”How am I doing so far?”
”You”re doing excellent. So, let”s move onto the next level. . . which will be you and I deflecting some projectiles.”
”Wait! Are you sure?” Giselle gasped when Jude stepped back out of her space.
”Positive,” Jude grinned and jogged over to the launcher on the opposite side of the court, aware of more than Giselle”s eyes on him. He loaded some tennis balls into the machine. He fiddled with the display until he secured the countdown and a decent interval between each launch. ”I”ll help you with the first few, but you”ve got the rest.”
Jude slid back to his comfortable position behind Giselle, resuming their earlier pose. He inhaled, and Giselle followed his lead as they waited for the first serve.
When the machine spat out a fuzzy green target, Giselle yelped but swung with Jude”s help. The tennis ball collided with the racket and sailed over the net, bouncing into the lefthand service box. The dull thud of the ball against the hard ground elicited gentle cheers from Giselle, but Jude”s whoop carried across the court.
”Next one coming!” Giselle squealed and deflected it, still using Jude”s additional help. The ball sailed over the net, and Jude stepped back from her.
”These last few are all yours.” Jude slid down the baseline until he reached the right-hand corner, crossing his arms and watching Giselle shift on her feet. Determination crawled over her features, visible in her narrowed eyes and pursed lips.
Giselle looked like a woman on a mission.
She gripped her racket as the next ball shot out, and Jude held his breath as she swung. . . and executed a decently clean stroke. For a beginner, she was smashing all her fears harder than her swings.
Jude stayed back, letting Giselle finish her last few strokes with only one of the balls crashing into the net. The rest sailed home free and bounced within the boundaries of the court. His smile probably looked downright dorky, but he couldn”t care less as he observed Giselle tackle tennis.
Giselle set the racket on the floor as delicately as possible and spun around. The smile on her face spoke a thousand words, and the sparkling of those baby blues put the cloudless sky to shame.
Jude tipped his sunglasses lower on his nose, winking. ”Are you sure you”ve never done this before? You”re a star already.”
Giselle giggled, bounding over to him at full speed. Luckily, Jude squatted down and opened his arms before Giselle flung herself into him, catching her in one move. Her arms coiled around his neck, and her legs wrapped around his hips, hooked at her ankles in the back.
”I can”t take all the credit. I had the best teacher in the world!” Giselle remarked, loud enough for the other court to hear. She leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a giggly whisper. ”And the best fake boyfriend too.”
”Awww, you”re too sweet, my dove.”
”Thanks for teaching me how to play. I”ve wanted to learn for years.”
A slight rotation of his body gave Jude a perfect angle toward James, who no longer sat on the bench. His face darkened like a personal rain cloud hung over his head while everyone else enjoyed the sunny California afternoon. Besides, if he gripped his racket any harder, he might snap the poor handle in two.
Andrew snorted from his position on the bench. ”Glad to see the rivalry lived on past graduation. James and Jude always made practice interesting.”
James” jaw clenched hard, but the piercing sting in his chest didn”t make Jude a fan either. The rivalry made high school a spectacle; their teammates and outsiders treated it like entertainment, while Jude hardly felt entertained.
In his arms, Giselle shifted, and her hold loosened. ”Jude, what does he mean by that?”
”Um. . . it”s a stupid joke.” Jude lowered her back to the ground. ”James and my rivalry started over petty stuff, but he went too far. People see our tension as all fun and games. It wasn”t, at least not for me.”
”I”m so sorry, Jude.”
”It”s not your fault, so don”t apologize, okay? Besides, I poked the bear, and I”ll deal with the consequences of my actions.”
Despite Giselle”s feet being firmly planted on the ground, her arms clung fiercely to him. She buried her head in his chest and hugged him tight, but Jude didn”t attempt to escape.
His hands reached up to stroke her hair. For a brief moment, he forgot where they were. When the world melted away, so did the charade. Jude Beauregard cared for Giselle Courtland more than she might ever understand.
That was his secret to bear. . . for Giselle”s sake.