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“What are you making?” He asked, peering around me to get a look at the pots on the stove.
“Fettuccine alfredo,” I replied.
“Oh,” he nodded.
“Are you staying for dinner?” I dared to ask.
“No.”
Of course. I expected it, but it still hurt.
“Alright,” I sighed, picking the spoon off the floor and tossing it in the sink. I grabbed another from the drawer and returned to making dinner after cleaning up the mess. “I’ll see you later, dad.” And by later I meant a month from now.
“Bye kiddo,” he said from the doorway. Minutes passed, and I thought he’d left, but then he said, “You seem happy.”
By the time I whipped around, he was gone and I was left mulling over his words.
I was happy, and that was all thanks to the guy I was hell-bent on hating.
They always said hate was as passionate as love. I was starting to see how true that was.
Chapter Ten
“Twizzlers, milady,” Jude sing-songed, dropping a plastic bag from Sheetz in front of me.
I looked in the plastic green bag and pulled out the pack of Twizzlers. “You’re awesome.” I tore open the wrapping and pulled out one of the red pieces of licorice.
“You look like you need a pick me up,” he shrugged, sliding out the chair across from me. “I wanted some gummy bears,” he shook another bag in his hand, “so when I saw those I thought I’d get them for you.”
“Thank you,” I told him, taking another bite. I stared at the computer screen in front of me, wishing the words would magically appear. I was still having trouble with my paper—the one Jude was helping me with. I couldn’t seem to find the proper words to convey what I needed to say. I wanted my words to be powerful, and everything I wrote sounded weak to me.
“Where’s Rowan?” He asked, looking around the library.
“She must be running late,” I shrugged, glaring at the damn blinking cursor on my word document. I swore the thin black line was mocking me.
“Having trouble?” He asked, opening the bag of gummy bears and popping a green one in his mouth. I detested the green ones. And the yellow ones. Actually, I hated all gummy bears after my last incident with them. Nasty little things. They looked so cute and innocent with their tiny bodies and little faces. Douse them in vodka and they could take out anyone.
“Can you get those away from me?” I pointed at the bag of gummy bears, fighting my gag reflex. He slid the bag on his lap, chuckling under his breath. “And yes, I’m having trouble. I can’t get my paper to sound right,” I frowned. “I feel like I can’t convey the proper emotions.”
“Well,” he started, chewing on an orange gummy bear, “why don’t you try not overthinking it.”
“It’s not that simple,” I mumbled, musing my hair—I was sure it looked like a rat’s nest with as many times as I had ruffled it in the last hour.
“Yes it is,” he argued, propping his feet up on the table. “You have to let yourself feel.”
“Feeling gets me in trouble,” I mumbled. Like letting Jude kiss me again in his truck. I shouldn’t have let him do that. But I did and it was amazing, but now I felt conflicted. He was breaking down all the walls I’d spent the last seven years building around my heart. He was forging a special place in there for himself and I didn’t know what I’d do when he inevitably screwed it up. A person could only be hurt so many times before they fell apart completely, and I thought I’d met my quota.
“Is it that it gets you in trouble?” He repeated my words. “Or that it scares you?” He tapped his fingers along the wooden tabletop. “Never let fear dictate your life.”
“Why do I feel like we’re no longer talking about my paper?” I breathed.
“Because, we’re not.” He took off the beanie he wore, tousled his hair, and replaced it.
“You don’t scare me.” I stated, tilting my head slightly to the side.
“I know I don’t,” he replied immediately. He leaned forward and his voice dropped low, like he was letting me in on a secret. “But what you feel for me…that’s what scares you.”
I squirmed in my seat. “That’s not true.”
