“I don’t know how much Akiva has told you, especially because he was still so young when they split. But our house felt like ice all the time. The silence was unbearable. The only thing worse was when it broke, because that’s when you knew the true awfulness was coming. And I think my parents are basically good people, or at least my mom is—my dad mostly forgot about us when he got remarried and moved to Cleveland—but together… there was this frigid, toxic air I never wanted to breathe in. Traveling withKol Sasson helped a lot, but the rest of the time, I just… didn’t breathe. Or at least that’s what it felt like.”
“No,” she said softly. “Akiva didn’t tell me that.”
Her gaze was too gentle on him now, her voice too… something. It was unsettling. He looked down at his hands fiddling with his duvet. “I swore like hell I wasn’t going to grow up to be anything like that. That my home would never feel that way, that it’d be warm and loving and supportive.”
“Sounds nice to me.”
“Yeah, exceptIgrew up to be an asshole.”
Ari snorted in surprised laughter, then seemed to realize he wasn’t smiling. “Judah, come on. You’re a little uptight, sure, but you’re not actually an asshole.”
“No, I am. Akiva’s been freaking Brother of the Year, and I didn’t pay him any attention until I made out with his friend. I have a level of fame people would kill for, a voice puberty didn’t destroy, and so much of the time, I hate it, even hide from it. I get set up with a ridiculous number of girls I’m sure are great, and I’ve never been able to get excited about a single one. And part of that—part of why I never just picked one andtried—is because I knew I’d be making a cold, affectionless home. It’s my biggest nightmare, and I can’t do it.”
“Oh, Judah.” Ari reached for him, but he pulled back. This had to be the least sexy speech anyone had ever made to a girl he was literally in bed with, but he’d never said any of it out loud, and maybe he needed to.
She wrapped her arms around herself instead, not mad, just respecting his space. He thought, anyway. She was still looking at him, waiting for him to continue. So he took a deep breath.
“It’s not about sex, not really. It’s, well—I want towantto kiss my wife. My only fond memories of my parents together, the times things felt okay, were when I’d catch them kissing in the kitchen or something. Just a quick peck. But it used to do something to myheart. And when I started dating, I couldn’t wait to get that feeling about the person who’d give me my own little heart thump.” He winced. “Can we strike that incredibly cheesy last sentence from the record?”
“Definitely not,” she said with a grin.
“I had a feeling you wouldn’t give me that.” This next bit was dangerous, and he knew it, but he was going to say it anyway. “In the last week alone, I’ve spent more time with Akiva than in the past two years, Lev’s commented on how much easier I am to deal with, I’ve actually looked forward to my evenings instead of dragging my feet home, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I’m actually—maybe—capable of making a wife happy.” He held up a finger. “Okay,thatyou have to let me rephrase. Let me be very clear before you run out of here screaming: I am not in any way referring to you as my wife, present or future.”
“Right,” Ari said, her voice sounding a little funny, and he wondered if he’d gone too far. “Ten points for using me to learn you can make a woman come.”
He would’ve assumed it was a joke, except the words dripped with acid. She must have realized it too, because she winced as soon as they came out of her mouth, and again, Judah wondered what the hell he’d done wrong.
“That’s not what I meant,” he started sharply, but then he stopped, thought about what he’d said, and soon he was the one wincing. “I did make it sound that way, didn’t I? I’m sorry. It’s not what I meant. I’m just trying to say that… I know this is over after tonight. I know we want different things. I know I have to get my act together and start controlling my own future. And I will. But to sum up my answer to your question, I don’t feel like a frigid, toxic asshole when I’m like this with you; I feel like the guy I want to be. And at least for this week, I’m letting that win.”
Oh. Well, fuck. Ari opened her mouth to say something—anything—but nothing came out, and then Judah spoke again. “Look, I am absolutely a hypocrite. I am well aware that not one person in my life—except probably Akiva—would think what I’m doing with you is remotely okay. I accept that I am every cliché of every guy who’s ever thought with his dick and tried to justify it. I’m not trying to convince God or anyone. But still, I just keep thinking,V’chai bahem. You’re supposed to do the mitzvot to live, and I was really starting to feel like I wasn’t, like I’ve been quite literally dying inside. But this… this has been me living.”
“Pretty sure that doesn’t refer to getting ass, but I like it anyway,” she murmured, an ache settling into her heart. Something was happening there that wasn’t supposed to be, and wasn’t at all biblical.
“It definitely does not,” he said with a laugh. “That probably qualifies as blasphemy. This is gonna be a very busy Yom Kippur.”
Ari knew she was supposed to laugh, but a weak smile was all she could manage. Why did it feel like they were breaking up when everything was just going according to plan? It wasn’t like she was new to the casual hookup; she and Danny had never even come close to dating. And when they stopped because he got a girlfriend, her only negative feeling had been the annoyance that anyone who came after was going to be less conveniently located.
But this felt… this felt…
A crack of thunder broke into her thoughts, and then the sky opened completely, rain hammering down on the windows with a vengeance. “Jesus,” she muttered, instinctively curling into Judah’s side. “That isnotan ‘April shower.’ What the hell?”
“I actually love thunderstorms,” he said pleasantly, wrapping a warm, comforting arm around her—also instinctive, she was sure. “Is that weird?”
“It’s a little weird.” Truthfully, she didn’t mind them as long as she was safe indoors, and right then she felt very safe indeed.Except—“Shit, getting a cab back is gonna be a nightmare. I might do better with the bus.”
“You’re not going out in that.” He said it as if it were simply a fact that she’d be staying in his apartment. With him. Spending the night. Clearly, he wasn’t thinking straight.
“It’s getting late,” she said with a frown as her phone lit up on his nightstand. She glanced over. “Liana’s already texting, asking where I am. I should go.”
“Ari.”
She should’ve gone. She should’ve absolutely gone. Because the things he’d said and the way his arms looked incredibly inviting and the things she knew they could do together if she spent the night—all of it was so, so dangerous. She had not signed on for snuggly, stormy sleepovers or an entire night of making each other roar like thunder, and she didn’t know which would be worse at this point.
Outside, lightning flashed, and another round of thunder rumbled through the air.
And then, darkness.
“Shit.” Arielle lit up her phone, the text from Liana glowing back at her in the otherwise dark room. She silently berated herself for not charging it more before coming over, and before she could think twice, she texted Liana that she was stuck at a guy’s and would be spending the night. It was more information than she wanted to give, but Liana was a worrier, and she had to give something.
