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“Oh, a one-night slip? That’s what that was?” I laughed, pushing him into the wall. He playfully shoved me back but pulled me into his arms and laid his head on my shoulder.
“I forgive you, J. I always will.” He rubbed my back and rocked a little. I broke the embrace; the contact slamming my thoughts back to Alyssa. I stood and stripped off my dirty formal wear.
“Can I shower now?” his eyes roved my body and tattoos.
“I guess so, as long as I can watch.” He grinned.
Judas had been gonefor a week.
I paced the hallway of the beach house, chewing my French manicured tips. I was trying like hell not to pour myself a glass of wine at 1130 in the morning. Kostas hadn’t returned home either. I don’t know which scared me more. I felt like I couldn’t function properly with this thread between Judas and I hanging in the wind. I wanted to take it; I wanted to hold on to it.
I told myself I was done taking chances, but I wondered if he was that chance, I had been waiting for all my life. Without his presence; his goofy pranks and dances. I realised that each day I had gotten out of bed; it was because I knew Judas was here. I looked forward to our banter, our deep conversations at one AM. I missed his wet mouth on mine, his muscular hands wrapped around my waist and around my neck.
Fuck it.
I looked at the clock again and poured myself a glass of wine. The front door slammed, and I jumped, looking up from the couch and seeing Jeno wearing his headphones. Jeno and Juniper had been my only company. I had learned some things about history and astrology, but mostly I learned how much Jeno loved his family through his blooming relationship with Juniper.
My phone chimed and my heart leapt, hoping it was something— anything, from Judas. It wasn’t, it was Kostas.
‘Be home tomorrow or Sunday, I need more time to clear my head.’
I blanched at the word home. Part of me was relieved, part disappointed that it wasn’t Judas.
I opened the last text from Judas, ‘I’m sorry’.
I didn’t know what he was sorry for. There were too many things to choose from. I was sorry that he and I weren’t together at this very moment. I drained the last of my wine and poured another full glass. I sat at the breakfast bar and pulled up the text to Judas again.
Buzzed and feeling a little brave, I texted him, ‘I miss you, come home.’.
I stare at the screen, wishing for an instant reply. No little bubbles signify that he’s typing back. Just the defeating words, ‘delivered’ under my text. I sigh and turn on Fast and the Furious Two. Two more glasses of wine later, and halfway through a movie that scalded me with memories of Judas, my phone chimes.
‘I miss you too.’
I smile, my stomach dropping to my feet. Trying not to respond too fast, I repeat the words.
‘Come home.’
Chewing on my lip, I wait apprehensively for his response. I knew he was with Leo. It was the only other place he ever went to. Leo’s was a comfort and a fear. Was he just crashing there with him, or was hewithhim? The thought curled my stomach into knots. My phone dinged again.
‘Go away with me for the weekend. Then we can go home together.
My stomach tightens at the thought. Excitement tingles down my arms and legs. I grin as I text back, ‘Okay’.
I sat in the creaky,small shack and resented it.
I resented its slight pitch, the squeaking of the weathered beams. The feeling I was on a rocking boat. This entire building was falling apart. The docks needed to be renovated. The building was falling in on itself if you looked at the foundation. I didn’t want to look at the kitchen; I had eaten there too many times. It didn’t take a genius to see that this place hadn’t had been taken care of for the last few years.
The pile of checks was gone, presumably brought to a bank. But something told me that’s not where they ended up. Judas wasn’t even the same person anymore. He was in his room all the time and when I did see him; he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. The slip holders here had dwindled each week I had been here. Boat owners pulling them out and away. None of them had returned. The front row used to be full, now only ten yachts remained.
Something was going on, and I was going to figure out what. Tonight. One of the lone ten was Alyssa’s. Well, her father’s boat, if she was telling the truth. Alyssa had sent out a family text today that said she would be out of town for the next two days, since Dad had decided not to come back. I did not know where the hell Judas was. He was probably already back in Sacramento.
I opened the cabin door and look up and down both sides of the dock. It was empty, and no owners were aboard any of the ships now. I approached the small boat, the minimum thirty-three feet to even be considered a yacht. Her father had named it Augustine, to match the restaurant. I looked both ways again and hopped on board. I stepped around the windshield and down into the cockpit, touching the helm.
At the back of the benches, a small hatch was propped. I opened the small door and hopped down into the cabin. The boat shuttered and rocked beneath me, and I braced myself.
Alyssa’s photographs lined the walls. Some were framed, and some strung along the wall by ropes in a line. Others looked recently developed and hung on lines that criss-crossed the small space. A deep double sink on the wall opposite a bed covered in blankets and pillows. I approached the line of freshly developed photos. I pushed my glasses up with my finger and squinted. The photos were all of Judas.
Judas lounging on the couch in sweats with no shirt on, smiling into the camera in an up-close shot. The one that disturbed me the most were the black and white ones on the beach, Judas wearing a half-opened shirt and blazer; a bloody knuckle. He looked pained, defeated.
