"What the fuck?" My jaw fell open at the sight of Jude hanging on some other guy. Not just any guy. Ethan. Ethan fucking Hanes. Westminster High. Soccer player. Notorious asshole. I didn't know he was gay. Let alone a home wrecker.
He let go of my boyfriend, sauntering towards me. "Hey Stevens!" he called.
"Who the hell do you think you are, Ethan?" I wished I was drunk. Drunk enough to forget this. But I was dead sober.
Jude stayed put; he kept his eyes on the floor, clearly scared by what I'd do now.
"What are you talking about?" Ethan guiltily asked. "I was just greeting an old friend."
"I've never been your friend, you douche bag. What are you doing with my boyfriend?"
"Jude? He's dating you?"
"Yeah he is. Has been. Is that a problem?"
"Man, if I woulda known I wouldn't have let him-"
"Let him what?" I snapped.
"Fuck me." He smiled when he said it, all proud and mighty. I couldn't believe it. One hundred shades of anger washed over me. I wanted to punch Ethan. Kill him maybe. Instead I shoved past him, seeking out Jude.
"Come on, we need to talk," I sighed when he wrapped his arms around me. Super hammered. Unaware of what was happening. I tugged him out of the house, down the street, to my car. Helped him inside, buckled his seat belt, and then did the same for myself. Cranked the engine, shifted into drive.
"Where are we going?" Jude groaned. There was no point in explaining anything to him. He would disregard it, ask again, annoy the shit out of me.
I drove, and drove, and drove. Conjuring up all the words I needed to say, and thrusting them into the back of my mind, saving them for later.
I swiveled down the old dirt road. Hoping this was the right way.
Thirty-seven minutes later we pulled up to the cabin. My father's cabin. Sitting on the edge of a lake, secluded from the rest of the world. I remembered coming here after I was released from the hospital. It was relaxing, peaceful.
"Where are we?"
"Don't worry about it. We're safe," I replied, getting out of the car. Jude followed suit, a bit slower and more chaotically.
I lifted up the door mat, revealing a little silver key. Thank God.
Once inside, Jude settled into the couch, watching me with intent. "You want something to drink?"
He nodded in return.
Grazing through the kitchen, I found a glass, filled it with tap water, and stumbled to Jude. He grabbed the glass from my hands, and took a swig.
"I'm gonna take a shower, okay? And then we'll talk."
The bathroom was as tiny as the rest of the cabin. Bathtub crammed into the corner; toilet crowded by the sink.
I twisted the knob, a spew of water splattering into the tub. While waiting for it to heat up, I undressed, examining myself in the dirty mirror. I was a mess of fading scars, tired eyes, and chapped lips.
After initiating the shower head, I stepped into the steam, my skin soaking up the heat, relishing in the downpour. My bundled nerves were instantly calmed. And then the storm hit.
Thinking about Jude screwing someone else pained me. I stifled a sob. It hurt. My heart ached. My brain screamed. My stomach knotted. Every sense of sanity came crashing down. I came crashing down. Slumped on the tub floor. Knees tucked into my chest. Water spilling over me. Clouding my eyes.
How long had I been in here?
The door creaked, disrupting my tantrum.
"Connor? Are you s'okay?" His muffled voice slurred.
"I'm fine. Get the fuck out."
Jude peeked about the shower curtain, gazing me over. "You're not okay." He turned off the water, tossed me a towel, and lifted me up. I tumbled onto the tiled floor, reaching for the toilet. Lifting the seat rapidly, I leaned over and threw up the contents of my day. I placed myself in front of the bowl, figuring this would be a long night. Jude didn't hesitate to sit down behind me, his legs on either side of my body. He linked his arms around my waist.
We remained that way for hours. I continued to vomit every now and again until all I could do was dry heave. Jude wasn't mortified. He had this serenity about him. Holding me. Keeping quiet. Wiping off my mouth multiple times. Rubbing my back. Comforting me. How could I ever be mad at this phenomenal human being?
It was extremely late when at last we were able to talk. Jude seemed beyond exhausted. Yawning every couple minutes.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, sitting criss-crossed on the bed, while I was sprawled out on my back.
"I'm not mad, Jude."
"You should be. You should hate me. You deserve to be mad."
"Well I'm not. I'm just hurt."
"I know." He glanced at his hands, fear consuming his face.
"Why'd you do it?"
"I wasn't thinking. I was kinda pissed."
"About what?"
He ignored my question. "I hurt too, ya know."
"What's going on, babe?"
His eyes collided with mine, a tear slipping down the slope of his face. "We never see each other anymore. You're always 'too busy' for me. You don't put any effort into our relationship."
"Jude, I came over yesterday."
"Yeah and all you wanted to do was have sex."
"With you. At least I'm not going around having sex with just anyone."
"That was a mistake. You know that," he wailed.
"Well you made me feel bad about myself."
"Why?"
"Because," I jabbed.
"Because why?"
"Because barely a day after we try to have sex, you go off and fuck somebody else."
"That had nothing to do with us."
"Whatever, Jude."
"I love you. So much. It kills me," Jude whispered.
"Then stop being such a slut."
"Maybe you should learn how to be a better boyfriend."
"Maybe I don't want to be your boyfriend." God I wanted to force those words back down my throat.
"It's not like you have to be." He slinked off the bed, and threw his limp body on the couch.
"Jude I didn't-"
"You did mean it."
I went numb.
