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“Declan, this is Jude. He’s from New York—Brooklyn, I think. Right?” She turns to him, and he dips his chin in confirmation.
She smiles wide. “And Jude, this is Declan, from California. My best friend in the whole wide world, so be nice to her.” She pins him with a scowl, but it’s Addy, so it’s like a kitten trying to intimidate a tiger.
He breathes out a forced laugh, but I can’t hear it over the music, and then his hand reaches up toward mine. “Declan, from Cali,” he confirms.
I slide my hand into his. “Jude, from Brooklyn,” I greet back. It must be where his slight accent is from. But there’s something else in there, too, that I can’t quite pinpoint. Just the subtlest hint of somewhere both familiar and foreign.
But my attention catches back on our clasped hands. It feels like I’ve placed my hand inside an incinerator, his touch scalding my senses. I pull my hand back before I get burned.
“You ladies want to take a seat?” Boss drawls. “I’ll go get you some drinks. What do you like, Declan?”
I can feel Jude’s stare on me as I answer, “Anything with whiskey, please,” and when I look back down at him, despite my will not to, his features have hardened again. His scowl somehow makes him look even more attractive, though. In a brooding sort of way. Drawing more attention to the hard edges of his jawline, the tattoos hugging his neck, and the turbulence raging in his eyes.
“You got it,” Boss booms, rerouting my attention.
I tug on Addy, dragging her to the farthest side of the couch from Mr. Dark and Surly.
FromJude.
I don’t want to admit it, but I liked the way his name felt on my lips. The way his eyes felt on me when they were looking at me. The way his touch burned straight through me, making me feel something in a way I’m not sure I’ve felt in five long years. Or ever, maybe.
I can’t, for the life of me, tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing yet.
______
I don’t know how many drinks in we are now, but I’ve managed to score myself a game controller and am kicking Boss’s ass in a side-by-side play ofBloodborneas the party rages on around us.
There must be an unspoken rule about stepping past the bounds of the couch and gaming area because the party doesn’t dare push beyond them, which brings a sense of comfort, and is also the reason I haven’t bothered to venture beyond themmyself even though I can feel the dark raincloud of space Jude occupies at the corner of the couch, scrolling through his phone with a bored look on his face like this is the last place he wants to be.
I don’t know why I feel his presence so strongly. Why I’m soawareof exactly where he is in the room. I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.
“Damn, girl!” Boss hollers with a loud chuckle. He tosses his controller onto the couch beside him. “I ain’t ever met a girl who can play like you. And I mean no offense by that whatsoever, butshit!”
“None taken.” I smile, setting the controller I’ve been hogging down onto the glass coffee table in front of me. I lean over to whisper in Addy’s ear, “Bathroom?”
“Straight down that hallway, last door on the right. You can use the bathroom in there since the other one will have a line at least twenty people deep,” she answers.
“Okay. I’ll be right back.” I stand from the couch and stretch my arms above me, but they shoot right back down when I notice Jude’s stare glued to my stomach.
The corner of his mouth twitches when his eyes trail up to mine and he catches me staring, too. I’m not sure what to make of it.
“I’m going out for a smoke, man. You wanna come?” some guy behind him asks.
“Fuck no,” he replies, his gaze not wavering from mine. “That shit is slowing you down, Parker. Better quit before you can’t make it to touchdown without wheezing.”
The guy laughs and says something else I don’t hear, before disappearing into the party. I follow his lead and dip into the crowd, turning in the opposite direction for the bathroom, telling myself I don’t feel the storm clouds of Jude’s eyes trailing me until they can’t reach me anymore.
Chapter Four
Declan
I find the bathroom and lock myself inside, quickly doing my business and washing my hands.
It’s as I’m drying them that I catch my eyes in the mirror—blue, and distant. I slide my lip balm from my pocket and smooth it over my lips as my heart thrums in my chest, its beats crawling up into my throat and down into the pit of my stomach simultaneously.
I’m not sure why, exactly, but I can feel myself slipping. Anxiety sinking its talons into me, playing with my thoughts like puppets on strings.
You don’t belong here. What do you think you’re doing? You think you left your shit behind, but it’s dragging, dragging, dragging right behind you.