Page 32 of A Summer Thing

“What?” He chuckles. “I remember. It was either that, or environmental studies. I’m guessing you’re leaning more toward that nursing degree?”

“Yeah, I think I am.” Anxiety trickles through my bloodstream just thinking about it, but nothing else has felt as… right.

“That’s brave, Little D. I’m proud of you.

” I know he knows exactly why this decision is a difficult one for me, so his words have my own sense of pride blooming beneath my chest, coexisting with the anxiety that lingers in there.

Nursing, after everything I’ve been through, is the only clear path I can see, though.

It feels important. Scary, but important.

I want to help people like my nurses helped me all those weeks I spent in the hospital after my accident.

Their care, attentiveness, and uplifting spirits have stayed with me in the six years since, and that’s the kind of difference I want to make in the world, too.

Those small acts of kindness that stack up into something bigger, more profound.

At least in one small, meaningful corner of the world.

“So, I was wondering…” Jude slices through my thoughts, his fingers tapping a beat against the steering wheel.

“About?” I smile. Because being next to Jude makes the craziness of New York, and the trepidation of all these important life decisions, disappear.

“Some friends of mine wanted to meet up for dinner, and I want you to come with me,” he says. “Will you? Come?”

I narrow in on his expression, my heart kicking yet again at the starting gate, ready to take off for the races. He looks amused, hopeful, happy. In a way I don’t remember seeing in him last summer.

And he wants me to meet his friends.

The metaphorical starting gate opens, and my heart sprints away.

“Yeah, okay,” I say. “That sounds like fun.”

“Okay, good.” He smiles. “I just have to stop by my brother’s place first, and then we’ll head over.”

“Sounds good.” I push back and relax into the seat, taking in a deep, full, calming breath.

It feels like the first I’ve taken in far too long.

______

An explosion of laughter erupts from across the table.

“No way; no fucking way! Ontrel Edwards?” Jude’s friend is shouting.

He just told him—and the rest of his friends—about the professional NFL player he’s going to be meeting with this summer.

It’s amazing, really, since he’s the one who reached out to Jude, wanting to meet up and talk about his future in football.

“Way,” Jude says, leaning back in his chair. He glances over at me and winks.

“So, Declan. Tell us a little more about you,” Connor says, catching the gesture.

I glance down the line of his friends, their eyes all rapt on me.

Connor, Nick, Antonio, and Isabella—all with varying New York accents, every single one of them.

I’m a little more comfortable with this kind of thing after my freshman year of college—meeting new people, talking to virtual strangers—but not by too much.

My heart patters as a reminder, nervousness biting at my palms.

“Um… What would you like to know?” I ask.

Questions fire at me from all directions.

“What made you choose New York?”

“What are you studying?”

“Do you plan on staying in the city after you graduate?”

“Was Jude a complete dick to you when you first met him, too?”

I laugh at that last one, probably harder than I should.

“Oh, definitely. I kind of hated him a little bit, I think, when I first met him.” He nudges me with his knee beneath the table, but he’s all smiles.

“But then… we became friends, and I suppose I really like him now,” I tease, and his smile grows softer, fonder.

“New York was kind of a whim. Addy, my friend from Oklahoma, it was her dream school, so I applied too thinking there was no way I’d ever get in, but then I did, and now here I am.

I’m still undecided on my major, but I’m swaying toward nursing.

And I don’t know; I might like to stay. If the city ever starts to feel like… home.”

Connor crosses his arms, a thoughtful line creasing between his light brows. “Give it some time.”

“Yeah, don’t let us scare you off,” Nick tacks on with a smile that stretches across his tan cheeks.

“New York can have a hard exterior, but it softens—eventually,” Isabella says.

And Antonio cuts in with, “I’m sure there’s a lot you haven’t explored yet, too. I bet Jude would be more than happy to help you out with that.” Innuendo undercuts his words, and it makes me blush.

“Knock it off, jackass,” Jude says, but still, it’s with a smile. It’s easy to see how at home he feels with these friends of his. There’s an entirely different vibe here than there was last summer with his teammates. A sense of true belonging.

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and meet Jude’s stare. “That would be nice, though. If you’d be willing to?”

His features draw down into a scowl, and it’s the first he’s worn in over three hours, which must be some sort of a record now that I think about it. “More than willing, Declan. I want to.”

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.

“Night, Little D,” he says with a smile, but he doesn’t move.

Neither of us do.

I stand here at my door, and he stands there, two feet away, and we just watch each other, our tired smiles growing sleepier by the second.

“What are you doing this time next week?” he asks.

And my resulting smile dips straight down into my soul.