I can’t help but shake my ass when a certain part of the song comes on, a trend that hit social media and took it by storm. Jude presses his body against mine, swaying right along with me. The rhythm of our bodies meshes together, his hands on my hips, thumbs sliding beneath the fabric of my shirt. My head drops back, lying on his chest, while I get lost in the music.
We stay like this through the rest of the set, singing with the band when the mic is held out to the crowd, and when the final song is finished, the band members move until they’re closer to us. The guitarist flicks out a few pics, Vic strips out of his shirt and tosses it into the crowd, and even the drummer tosses his sticks. It’s for sure one of the best shows I’ve seen so far and maybe in my entirety of concerts, and I’m always chasing the next one. Well, when tickets aren’t astronomical to only see two bands. Rock the Nation is well worth the price to see as many as ten bands if you move with a swiftness in between.
“You feel like stopping at the booth and seeing if they have any appointments for tattoos?” I ask Jude when the crowd starts dispersing. I’m going to have my ass handed to me by Zane, but is there anything better than pissing off your older brother?
“Fuck yes, we’ll do that then head back to the van, shower, and I’ll make us some dinner.” Jude’s arm wraps around my shoulders. There’s a slight sting, and when I glance down, I see my skin has a light flush to it. I’d havethought it was from the heat had there not been a tightness.
“Sounds good to me. You don’t happen to have some aloe in your bag of tricks, do you?” I have lotion that should help, except there’s nothing better than the green gooey substance. Tomorrow, I might need to re-evaluate the clothing options I brought and cover myself up more.
“If I don’t, Steve-O probably does. We usually bounce off one another whenever we can. He and his wife bring their kids, they probably have a first-aid kit that would rival a medic.” Jude guides us to the booths, and I make a mental note that after scheduling our tattoos, I need to stop at the merchandise area to pick up a shirt.
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“The shower’s all yours.”I move out of the bathroom and come face to face, or rather body to body, with Jude. His hat is off, his shirt is no longer in his back pocket, and his shoes are near mine by the door. The palms of my hands flatten on Jude’s chest, nails digging in as he holds me steady.
“That what you’re wearing to bed?” His voice gives off a subtle rasp, and I’m suddenly feeling hot. A contradiction considering at the end of my shower, I turned the water to cold and the van’s air conditioning has been running non-stop.
“I guess?” I’m questioning the state of what I sleep inwith his statement. It’s only when Jude’s tongue slides along his lips that I realize he’s not upset. He’s turned on.
“See you in bed, Foxy,” he mutters, spinning us around until we’ve switched places. My mouth drops open, unable to come up with any words, and Jude must like that he left me speechless. A low chuckle is all he leaves me with as he shuts the door in my face. I stay there for far too long, hearing the water turn on and realizing I probably should move.
We did things a little backward after touring around a few vendors, setting up our appointment for tomorrow, and me buying way more merch than necessary. Jude did some shopping of his own, found a shirt for Kennedy’s daughter, Briar, a flat bill hat for Sebastian, and onesies for the rest of the crew who had babies or who will in the near future. It was clear as day he has a soft spot for children. From our talking, his friends’ kids are an extension of his family. He’s Uncle Jude, the guy who spoils them, usually with candy he keeps in his pocket, and has no problem playing any type of game they want. He’s also an only child. Where his parents are, we’ve yet to discuss, but with the way his jaw clenched, I decided to keep that topic at bay for a little while longer.
When we got back to the van, Jude suggested we eat first. He opened up the back door off the bedroom and showed me a porch that extends. Two chairs were set up along with a small table in the middle. Jude also had one of those flat top grills where he showed off his cooking skills. I sat outside with him, a drink in my hand, the non-alcoholic variety, and talked to him the entire time. Our meal consisted of a hibachi-style dinner of chicken, steak, rice, and vegetables.Not a single item needed to be made inside, which, from what Jude told me, helps keep the van cold.
After dinner, we cleaned up, and I noticed he brought his gaming system and made a joke that he couldn’t live without me kicking his ass even after being with me all day.
Then I decided there was no way I’d be playing a video game on that couch, unless it was on the floor. I let out a tired yawn, and Jude offered the shower first. I tried my hardest to be fast. Still, when your body, face, and hair need to be scrubbed, it takes a while.
Then I slathered myself with lotion, Steve-O and his family didn’t have aloe. Jude offered to run to the store, but I absolutely wouldn’t have any of that. Now, I’m standing here with damp hair in two braids, my pajamas, and a slight buzzing sensation overwhelming my body.
“Ugh.” I’m about to bang on the door to the bathroom.
“I can hear you, Foxy. Get your sexy ass in bed.” His voice carries through the closed door, and it spurs my butt into action. Leave it to Jude to have the last word. I’ll let him have it, for now.
I walk a few steps and land in the bedroom, trying to decipher which side of the bed is his and which one will be mine. The smallish built-in cubby nightstands don’t hold any personal belongings on either one. Instead, I look from where someone would sleep, on the right side of the bed, you’re able to see clear down the whole van. Nope, not for me. I’d rather not be woken up in the middle of the night to a strange noise causing my imagination to go haywire and think I’m seeing things. I skirt around to the other side of the bed, pull back the comforter and sheets, and slide inside.
When my head hits the pillow, I instantly inhale deep breaths of Jude’s scent, a mixture of cardamom, warm and golden, mixed with a smoky promise hidden beneath. Rough yet refined, a touch of the skin that burns while soothing you at the same time.
I close my eyes. Our day in the heat and sun is catching up to me. Plus, I’m tittering on the edge of nervousness and excitement wondering how sleeping in a bed with Jude will go.
“That didn’t take you long.” Jude’s voice has my eyes popping open.
“The same could be said for yourself,” I reply without any hesitation, when in all actuality, I’m lucky drool isn’t gathered at the corners. The man is wearing barely anything to bed, way less than I am, and the tight black boxer briefs show a visible outline of his cock.
“Lift your head up, Foxy,” he says.
“Okay.” His arm slides beneath my neck. No longer are the covers lifted, allowing the cool air to seep in. The warmth he offers me is like a cocoon. I move to my side, hand going to his chest, the tips of my fingers slowly trailing around the swirls of color on his chest.
“Woman.” My hand is trapped by his, stopping me from exploring. I guess fair is fair. I am the one who said no funny business.
“Sorry,” I mumble, closing my eyes.
“You got nothing to apologize for. You’re exhausted, sunburnt, and I didn’t want to share a bed only to get in your pants. I’d rather hold you while you sleep instead of rushing this too fast.” We both remain silent for a moment. When Itilt my head on his shoulder to finally look at his face, I see he isn’t asleep, and his eyes definitely aren’t closed.
“Jude?”
“Yeah, Foxy.”
