Page 31 of His Holy Chaos

I can't believe how worked up I'm getting with his words and how happy it makes me when he banters back.

"I know I am. Angel agrees with me. And so does your mom!"

“I love my poor mother, but her mental capacity seems to be decreasing lately. And Angel is a literal baby. Do you know why you're so good with her? I was giving this a thought, and I found out why.”

Oh, wow, burn for Martha. I made a mental note to use this as blackmail if I ever needed to.

“Oh, so you were thinking about me? That's sweet, darling. What conclusion did you reach?” I type back, knowing he's going to be flustered as fuck with it. I'm delighted imagining his expression.

“Because you're a baby yourself. You two understand each other. And don't call me darling.”

I giggle again.

“Good one. What am I supposed to call you, then? Fordy-bear?”

“Call me that again, and you'll win a trip over my knees, boy. You'll call me Daddy. Do you understand?”

DADDY! He told me to call him DADDY!!! I could scream.

“Sure, Fordy-Bear.”

I know he's going to go crazy with that. He takes a second to answer, typing and re-typing, and I see how Noa is staring at me, coffee mug halfway to his mouth. He had stopped on his way to his room just to look at me. I was still feeling a guilty conscience, but he had forgiven me already. That was Noa. He was a much better person than me. He forgives easily, he always think the best of people, even if they didn’t deserve, like me.

“What?” I ask, looking up at him. I realize I'm giddy with excitement.

“Nothing.” He says, but it doesn't sound like nothing. “It's just… it's just…”

“Say what you must, don't leave it there,” I say, singing, quoting one sentence from Les Mis, and wink. Noa and I indulge in watching musicals, especially Hamilton, sometimes Mamma Mia, sometimes more than once a week. He sings out of tune and almost kills me; I sing perfectly well and almost kill him. It's our thing.

“I haven't seen you smiling like that since… well, since before. Are you seeing someone?” he asks. I know what before means. Emmett. But I shake this thought away from my head. Not now.

“Not exactly. We're just bantering,” I tell him. His big black eyes grow; he lets his mouth fall open. It doesn't seem like he's going to let that slide.

“WHO?” he asks, coming to me in a hurry. “Jude Cole Piaf. How dare you not tell me?”

“I told you everything!” I exclaim. “It's nothing, I just met him that night I went to BratWorld to drink my sorrows away! And today I went to church and…”

“WHAT?! TO CHURCH?” he's basically screaming now. Noa says he's a sub, but he's dominant as fuck in all of the other areas of his life. If he finds out that I'm keeping any type of information from him, he punishes me with this whole drama. You don't love me anymore. Am I not your best friend? Jesus. Not to mention what happens when I don't do my chores around the house. “You told me you were an atheist. Did you lie about that, too? Is your name even Jude?”

“I am! He just goes there. The song I was rehearsing, I wanted to sing it to him. And he has a daughter. A baby. She loves me.”

“So. Much. Information. And you didn't tell me anything. I see,” he says, pretending to be mortally wounded, but I roll my eyes. I know he's playing. Mostly. He's such a drama queen.

I look back at my phone. The words on the screen almost undo me.

“I see. You made your choice, remember that. I'm coming over to spank that little bottom of yours.”

FUCK!

Chapter 17. Ford

Dave told me to text Glynn directly.

As the club manager and Jude's close friend, they'd know more about him. They'd be able to tell me how far I can take it. I'll discuss boundaries directly with Jude later. Right now, I want to surprise him.

I text Glynn explaining what I want to do. I can't believe it when they text back, saying:

"He'll have a fucking heart attack, in a good way. Go for it, you have my blessing as his best friend."