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I swallow thickly. “Okay, thank you."
“I love the pink, by the way!” Isabella chimes in, tossing her own long dark hair over a pale shoulder.
“Oh, thank you.” I look down at my light pink strands pinched between my fingers. “I thought I’d try something a little different, but I’m not sure I like it.”
“It looks good. You’re totally rocking it,” she says.
“It’s beautiful on you, Little D,” Jude comments, too.
“Thank you.” I laugh, a nervous chuckle to break the distinct silence that follows his statement.
Nick slaps his solid hand onto the table. “Little D, is it?” His words are filled with amusement, and a hint of surprise, his deep brown eyes bright with the same emotions.
Jude cuts him a look, but then his lips unwittingly tug up into yet another smile.
“Well, damn. Alright, alright.” Nick stands from the table with a grin of his own, rubbing his palms together in front of him. “Let’s see how good you are at darts then,Little D.”
Not too bad,as it turns out, but I take a backseat after a few rounds, watching the rest of them play as I slowly sip on a whiskey and cherry Coke with a slice of lime, courtesy of Jude.
The dynamic between them—the constant jesting and taunts, but wide smiles always framing their faces—has my cheeks hurting from doing the same, just from watching and listening to them all banter back and forth.
Nick slings an arm over my shoulder, pointing a hand Jude’s way. We watch him throw another dart, hitting just outside the bullseye. “My guy hasn’t brought a girl around in a long damn time.” His rough, accented words scratch at my eardrums. In a pleasant sort of way. “And we haven’t seen him smile like that in a while, too. That got anything to do with you?”
I chuckle through a nervous breath of laughter and shake my head. “I don’t know; I couldn’t tell you.” But something inside me warms at the thought, lighting up at the possibility that maybe I’ve somehow made Jude feel lighter, too.
“Alright, but I can. And I know it’s got something to do with you. So you do right by him, alright?”
I smile, glancing down at my feet. “Yeah, alright.”
“That’s our girl.”
“Here, here,” Connor and Isabella cheer, tipping their glasses of alcohol my way.
They welcome me into their small circle, just like that.
______
“You all seemed to get along really well.”
“Yeah.” I smile. “I liked them—I liked them a lot.” They were lively, and energetic, but in a way that wasn’t at all exhausting. “I hope they liked me too.”
He huffs out a knowing breath of laughter. “Trust me. They liked you.”
Warmth slinks through me with his words, because I really liked them, too. “Why didn’t you hook us up with them before—me and Addy, I mean? It could have been fun, going out with them this last year.”
“I trust them about as far as I can throw them when it comes you,” he replies immediately, and I turn in my seat to face him, anxiety swelling in my chest. Surely, he doesn’t mean that one of them would hurt us, or— “They would have been hitting on you within seconds if you didn’t show up with me.” Oh. The way he says,with me,with a vein of possession, has my heart fluttering inside my chest.
We pull up to NYU a moment later, to the Washington Square Village Garage, and he parks, walking me all the way across campus to my summer dorm. I told him he could drop me off at the sidewalk and take Addy’s car, but he refused.
And now just like that, our night is gone.
Ten months of not seeing him and tonight flew by in a blink. At least I know it won’t be too long before I see him again.
“Thank you for picking me up today and for coming with me tonight. I had a really good time.” He lifts my hand and kisses my fingers.
Out of all the people he knows here—his parents, his brothers, his friends—he asked me. To meet him at the airport, to pick him up, to spend his first night back home with him. I haven’t taken that for granted. In fact, I’ve taken gratitude for that gesture and tucked it safely inside my heart, where it can be kept warm and cradled and cherished.
“You’re welcome.” I smile. “Thank you for wanting me to. I had such a nice time, too.” I lean against the door, blinking sleepily. It’s already well past midnight. “Goodnight, Jude.” I whisper.