Page 23 of A Summer Thing

Jude grumbles beside me, angling himself closer. It could be my own imagination running wild, but the move feels possessive, proven further when he drapes his arm over my shoulders. Heat curls through me, sprouting vines of awareness through my limbs.

Parker’s hands fly up in surrender. “All jokes. We wouldn’t dream of touching what’s off limits, would we, Jude?

” The former gives the latter a pointed stare.

“Not that some of us have been touching much of anything lately,” he mutters under his breath, and my heartbeats amplify at once. I can feel them everywhere.

Is Parker implying what I think he’s implying?

No way. There’s no way. Jude is a warm-blooded male. So, of course, he hooks up. He must.

The thought puts an awful taste in my mouth.

But if I’m being honest, Jude hasn’t once seemed interested in flirting or hooking up with anyone—or anything of the sort, really.

Not since that last party where I stepped in when that girl couldn’t keep her hands to herself.

At least not when I’m around. Not that we spend all of our time together. But the majority of it, I guess, we do.

“Shut the fuck up, asshole,” Jude growls, and the rumble of it penetrates my side, sending a vibration skittering across my skin.

His eyes darken, and his jaw clenches, and his entire body tenses with wild agitation. His demeanor goes from playful to nearly lethal just like that.

What the hell?

“Jesus! I’m just fucking with you, bro!” Parker acquiesces.

“Yeah. Well. I’ve had enough of your fucking jokes where this is concerned, Parker.” He slides a forceful hand through his hair, willing the tension to recede from his body.

Parker throws his hands up again. “Note taken. Fuck. My bad.”

Jude simply offers a grunt in reply. But Parker drags him into a reluctant hug, and they exchange a few quiet words between them before all seems to be forgotten. Even more so when the lights in the room darken, and the stage brightens, and the emcee finally graces the stage.

We all collectively shift closer to the balcony for a better view, Addy scooting in at my right side and pulling Boss with her, Jude pressing in closer at my left.

The emcee— Lady Peaches Aplenty —dives into an opening monologue that has Addy nearly peeing her pants in laughter, Boss holding the weight of her in his arms so she doesn’t fall over, before Williams finally saunters onto the stage, first in line after being introduced by the emcee, loudly and proudly, as “Lina Scrimmage!”

The guys around us erupt in an explosion of excitement, cheering and hollering and hooting their asses off, nothing but wide smiles adorning each of their faces.

Addy and I join in, chanting his name as loudly as we can. My grin stretches so wide it feels like it could split my face in two.

Williams looks absolutely amazing out there.

Smiling face full of vibrant makeup, dark skin shimmering with miles of sparkling glitter, and tall feathers splayed out behind the crown of his headdress.

This isn’t exactly what I expected—not from a quiet, almost reserved Williams—but I feel like I know him a bit better now.

Like I know the rest of these guys better now for being here, too.

We spend the next half-hour watching the show, Addy tossing more drinks back, and me, still refusing, but before too long, the room starts to grow smaller around me, the air growing thinner, and a spark of panic ignites inside me that I can’t snuff out. I need some space… some air… some… something.

Jude—thank God—somehow senses it, offering me his hand, palm up, at the balcony ledge. His brows lift a fraction in question, and I have to swallow past the lump that forms in my throat.

I don’t know how he can read me so well, I’m just thankful he can.

I slip my hand into his and give it an intentional squeeze.

The corners of his lips tug into a small, reassuring grin, and then he grasps my hand tighter and guides me through the dense crowd of people on the balcony, leading me downstairs and outside, all the while, keeping my hand firmly in his to help keep me steady.

Humid, warm air greets my face as we hit the back doors, and I can finally take a full breath.

Leaning back against the brick wall, my hand slipping from Jude’s, I let my eyes drift closed. I breathe, and I breathe, and I breathe, letting each exhale pull me closer to the ground.

Breaths in, and out.

And in, and out.

And in.

And out.

“You feeling any better?” Jude’s soft, gritty tone reaches my ears a short while later.

I open my eyes to find his laser-focused on me. Intense. Penetrating. Concerned.

“Yeah. Much better,” I say, and his entire form visibly relaxes with his next breath.

And it’s sweet, how much he cares.

Foreign, how much he cares.

A little confusing, maybe.

But maybe I’m wrong, I wonder, musingly, but it’s written there in the lines of his features, in the hint of shadows roving across his gaze.

Unmistakable concern, followed by a dozen other questions I don’t have the answers to, but for the first time in my life, feel like I might want to start digging for.

At least scratch at the surface and take a peek at what lies below.

The thought makes my heart race.

But when my stare returns to Jude’s yet again, my thoughts settle. Like feathers drifting to the floor, they land softly in my mind, and my heart finds its steady tempo.

I don’t understand how he does that.

Quiets everything.

And because I don’t understand it, maybe, or because of the simple fact that he does manage to silence every thought, every moment, every worry—I step forward, with every intention to wrap my arms around him and bury myself in his chest.

It’s probably a terrible idea, and possibly stepping over at least a dozen of his boundaries, but I move forward without another thought, wrapping my arms tightly around his body and just… hug him. Pressing my forehead into his chest, inhaling a deep breath.

Thunderstorms. He definitely smells like thunderstorms.

And a clean, woodsy, spice-scented soap.

And something else that is entirely all Jude.

And I think I might be thoroughly and completely out of my mind, to just be straight-up sniffing him without restraint. The vibration of his chuckle against my cheek would confirm it so. The sound rains down my back, sending goosebumps up my spine.

When his arms finally fall down around me, too—softly, cautiously—the goosebumps spread… everywhere. Lighting a path down every possible surface of my skin.

But then I remember. I remember —the party, and the girl, and her hands all over him, one sliding up his chest. I remember that Jude doesn’t like to be touched.

Pulling away abruptly, my gaze crashes into his with an apology already on my lips.

“I am so sorry. I’ve obviously lost my mind and am not thinking properly.

But that’s not an excuse. I shouldn’t have done that; I shouldn’t have…

” My words trail off when I realize Jude is still holding me against him, his arms wrapped firmly around me, confusion sweeping through his features.

He doesn’t look the least bit bothered.

“It’s just—I thought,” I stumble over my words, my heart racing.

He tuts his head back and forth. “It’s all good, Little D.

It’s just a hug.” Just a hug, he says, but it feels like something infinitely more.

Like I was just given a gift not easily bestowed.

Like I still am, with his arms still wrapped around me, my hands still planted at his sides, sandwiched between his ribs and elbows, my fingers drowning in the fabric of his black sweatshirt.

It's only now that I notice the smoke curling from his mouth, rolling upward toward the sky. It’s the only thing providing a barrier between me and his intense stare, and my gaze oscillates between it and his mouth.

Two full, slightly parted lips. A sharply pointed cupid’s bow.

And that stare. Up and back down, back up and down again, mesmerized.

But then he’s moving backward, breaking every point of our contact.

Pinched between his fingers, held up between us, he offers me his joint.

And for a moment, I think about it. Taking it from his hand, inhaling the soothing drug into my lungs and letting it melt away the rest of my lingering anxiety—pressing myself closer and returning the favor from all these weeks ago, exhaling the smoke directly into his mouth from mine.

But I shake my head, knowing it’s the last thing my already murky brain needs.

I feel a small pang of loss at the missed opportunity, though.

I want to press closer.

Want to kiss him.

Want to feel his mouth on mine.

I continue to stare up at him, my body going completely still. My heart stalls inside my chest, and my breaths catch in my throat, because… Am I about to? Yeah, I think I am… I move closer, stepping into him until our chests are touching, my feet sandwiched between his, and lift up onto my toes.

His stare heats immediately, like a lit match thrown to gasoline, and my heart stutters back to life. It races so fast its beats are a steady earthquake rumbling through my veins as he tips his head lower, his forehead falling against my own.

A violent storm rages in his gaze, battling against something unknown. Something I can’t quite understand.

And yet still, I move closer.

Close enough to feel the tempo of his heart thrashing against my own.

Close enough to feel his sharp, harsh breath fan across my lips.

Close enough to watch the embers in his stare burn that much brighter.

“Kiss me. Please.” I don’t know where the words come from, but I’m glad I dug them up and said them out loud. It feels like they’ve been buried for weeks and weeks on end.

His tattooed fingers meet my chin, tipping my head backward. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, Little D,” he grits out. “What you’re asking of me. Because I’d want that and a lot fucking more, and I’m not sure either of us are equipped to—”

“I’m just asking you to kiss me,” I interrupt, because it feels that simple—even though, logically, I know he’s right and it’s not.

But all I can think about are the mere inches of space separating his mouth from mine.

The way the sharp curve of his lips would feel against mine.

“I want you to kiss me, Jude,” I whisper, quietly, “really fucking badly.”

He groans—a deep, guttural, throaty sound—and then his lips land harshly against my own.

I melt into him immediately, liquifying beneath his touch.

His firm grasp on my jaw, his fingers splayed against my throat; his other inked hand pressed into the base of my spine, dragging me into him—it makes me feel like my feet are drifting from the floor. Like I’m levitating, floating, and his hands are the only reason I’m still anchored to the ground.

He moves his mouth over mine slowly, exploring with intention, pressing and sliding against my own like he’s mapping the shape of my lips.

He nips and bites at me with his teeth, and then he’s pushing his tongue into my mouth, advancing and retreating in a heady push and pull that heightens the buzz travelling through me—an electrical current connecting from where his lips claim mine to where an intoxicating heat is gathering low in my stomach and dipping into my core.

I bury my hands in his sides, grasping his black sweatshirt, squeezing it tightly in my fists. I drag him closer. Kiss him deeper. Desperate to take every inch over the line he’s giving me.

His gravel-filled groan slips over my tongue, and I moan into his mouth, the desperate sound drowned out by another one of his, and I—

Addy barrels through the back door and into the alley with a loud shout of my name, shattering the moment into broken pieces that land at my feet.

My sanity crashes back through the fog along with it.

I take a stumbling step backward, adding at least a foot of space between Jude and me, but my breaths are short, and my lips feel bruised, and my movements are too quick, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Addy smiles, a knowing gleam of delight glittering in her gaze. It draws a direct line between Jude and me as it flits back and forth.

Maybe it’s all the alcohol she’s consumed, I lie to myself anyway. Maybe she doesn’t notice the heavy rise and fall of my chest or the way my lips feel swollen and utterly consumed. Her voice did sound slurred as she shouted my name.

“There’s my best friend!” she announces—or more like screams —to the world, her arms thrown up into the air above her. I can’t help but crack a smile through the rapid beats of my heart. Addy is toasted, well done and burnt to a crisp.

Boss trails her outside with a chuckle of his own, and a line of familiar faces follows. Landon, Parker, Jameson, Williams, along with everyone else, too.

“I think we should get Jude up onto that stage next. Might help lighten him up a bit,” Parker jokes as he leans against the wall next to him, accepting the joint from his offered hand and taking a hit.

Williams’ deep laugh pierces clear through the night. “I would love to see that.”

“Shit, with the heat he’s packing, there’d be no tucking,” Jameson chimes in, and then everyone busts up in an uproar of laughter, too.

Jude chuckles from where he leans against the wall, gifting me with a wink when he catches me staring, and the sight of it, after the kiss we just shared—my lips, and my heart, and my entire body still trembling with the aftershocks of it all—forces a swarm of butterflies to bloom to life beneath my ribcage, fluttering against my insides.

Addy’s arm wraps around me as she whispers a devious, “Why don’t you find out for the both of us and report back,” into my ear, and then I’m snorting out a laugh, too, cracking up along with her, my head tilted back as we manage to keep each other from falling to the floor.

The Oklahoma sky littered with stars winks back at us, and warmth fires through me, slinking through my veins, settling into a space that feels like it’s cushioning my heart.

It’s a light feeling—a pleasant feeling.

Instead of life spinning on around me, it finally feels like a spark of it is living inside me, too.