AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“He does not. And I don’t care if he does.”
Lucy’s smile is teasing. “Sure.”
And… that is such bullshit. Jude Jenkins is myarch rival, not a flesh and blood man. If he did feel things like that, if he crushed on me back, he’d be positively dangerous with thosebroad shoulders and those knowing eyes and the slow, teasing smile he gives me sometimes. I’d be a goner. Roadkill.
But he doesn’t see me like that; doesn’t want me that way. Obviously not. It’s deluded. Otherwise why would I be going to this party alone?
Though Jude’s words from earlier drift across my mind:If you want to see my apartment, Violet, you only need to ask.
A shiver coasts down my limbs, even as I tell myself he didn’t mean it. Psychological warfare: that’s what everything is with Jude. Nothing can be trusted,especiallynot flirting.
I wish.
I secretly, desperately wish.
“Wear that wrap dress you bought last month.” Lucy nods her head, decisive in exactly the way I need. See: this is why I come to her for help. Lucy always saves the day. “The one from that thrift store we liked? You looked amazing in that—like a classic movie star. And who knows?” Her mouth twitches. “Maybe by the end of the night, Jude will unwrap you.”
My heart lurches.
“I don’t want that.” The chair clatters back as I stand, and I nearly tumble into a potted shrub, cheeks flaming. “Oops. Sorry. Thanks, Luce.”
“No problem.” She’s already turning away, fitting those headphones back over her ears. And when I belatedly ask whatshe’swearing tonight, Lucy’s ears flush pink but she pretends not to hear me. Her fingers tap away at the keys, plugging in some mysterious formula to her spreadsheet.
That’s cool. I’ll see her outfit later—and I’ll figure out whatever’s got my calm bestie squirming with nerves in her seat.
It’s going to be a big night.
I can feel it.
* * *
“Jude Jenkins is nothing to you.” Hours later, my breath fogs the bathroom mirror in my apartment as I lean close, slicking on my cherry-red lipstick. “Less than nothing. He is a speck of dust in this infinite universe.” My lips smack together, and I inspect myself with a frown.
Messy brunette bangs and shoulder-length hair. Gray eyes lined with kohl, and a tiny gold nose stud, and beneath that, the misty lavender wrap dress, clinging to my small curves.
It’ll do.
“When Jude looks at you, that squirmy feeling is pure hate. The need to stare at him all the time is because you instinctively know not to trust him.” My mouth drops open as I brush mascara over my lashes.
They’re not the kind of affirmations you’ll find in any self help book, but they’ve worked for me over the years. Whatever works, right? And sometimes, just sometimes, I need this reminder—that Jude Jenkins is not for me. That the raw, wild energy pulsing between us is pure loathing, and nothing more.
Nothing more.
Forget my stupid crush. Forget the rock-hard body I saw once when he spilled hot coffee and had to whip off his shirt at his desk. Forget the toned chest and ridged abs that are burned into my retinas, and the way my thighs squeezed together beneath the table that day. The way I forgot to breathe.
Not. For. Me.
Besides, what use is a beautiful body when it comes attached to such a terrible personality? And Jude Jenkins has dedicated his life to teasing me; to making me feel cranky and on edge. If he were a drug, I’d be in a twelve step program, trying to quit that man.
Trying to quit playing along.
Quit teasing him back.
Quitwantinghim like this, in such a restless, needy way—blushing after him in the safety of my apartment, where no one else can see my secret shame.
Might as well name my vibrator ‘Jude Junior’ at this point, because that jerk rules my hormones and my deepest, most private thoughts.
“He’s nothing to you,” I say again, fluffing my hair.
