There's nothing to be said that I haven't said before...I love you guys, your reviews make me smile every time I read one, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter!
As the weeks flew by, Tom and Jude saw each other less and less. Jude was getting along with Marcus better than anyone had thought; the two were practically inseperable at G-Major, in and out of the studio. It turned out that Marcus was indeed one of the best producers in the business, and his discerning ear helped Jude through the lyrical writing block that had followed 'Skin'.
In addition to his musical prowess, Jude found herself growing attached to his friendly personality as well. With Jamie missing in action ever since he and Kat had decided to start dating, Jude had needed a shoulder to cry on and someone to talk to; Marcus had become that new person for her, although she didn't feel comfortable enough to tell him about her past with Tom. That was something that she was trying to bury, however futile it seemed to be.
Tommy, busy with the new artist he was assigned to, hadn't seen much of Jude since being her producer. Whenever he did see her she was with Marcus, and it took all of his strength not to march over and rip the guy limb from limb. Marcus hadn't actually done anything, per se, but the fact that he had practically replaced Tom in Jude's life was a good enough reason for the hostile glares sent in his direction.
He'd finally given up fighting the feelings that rose up in him every time he caught a glance of her fiery red locks or heard the sound of her voice. He felt something for her, that's for sure; what it was exactly, he didn't quite want to admit. Those feelings had been flaring up higher and higher each and every time he spotted her with Marcus, and it took all of his strength to refrain from reaching out, crushing her to his lips, and claiming her for his own. Tom Quincy never lost a fight, and he'd be damned if he lost this one to some hotshot American producer.
.o.o.o.o.o.
Jude skipped out to the mini-kitchen at G-Major, humming a Ramones tune under her breath. Her stomach had been emitting monster growls ever since she'd skipped breakfast that morning, and Marcus had only consented to let her go when the noise had interfered with her recording. She poked her head in the pantry, ruffling through the contents and poking at an ancient bag of chips. When that didn't look to be promising she moved to the refrigerator, although she quickly changed her mind upon seeing the moldy sandwich and stale pizza that it contained.
"I wouldn't eat anything in there if I were you," said a voice from behind her. Tommy stood leaning in the doorway, a wry smile gracing his lips. "Kwest has already gone through and taken anything worth eating."
Jude pouted. "Arghh, I'm so HUNGRY!" she whined, slamming the refrigerator door. She'd long ago decided to move on from the barely civil attitude she'd kept up around Tom to something with a more friendly tone, although she rarely got the chance to talk to him at all.
"Let me take you out," Tommy offered, attempting to remain casual. The thought of having her to himself for more than the two minutes he usually got while passing her in the lobby was more than a little appealing. "To lunch, I mean." Please say yes, please...
She quirked an eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest. Get those thoughts out of your head, Jude; it's not a date, it's just lunch, she thought to herself, and she felt a sharp pang as she was reminded of what had happened between them. Did she really want the drama? "I don't know Tom, I really need to get back to work, and-" her stomach chose to interrupt loudly, and Tommy's eyebrow quirked up.
"It's on me. It definitely sounds like you could use it," he half-pleaded. Jude grinned.
"Hey, you had me at 'free lunch'! I'll go get my jacket and tell Marcus."
She turned on one heel and bounced out, and Tom briefly entertained the idea of doing a victory dance at the thought of stealing her away from Marcus. He shook his head and sighed, slipping a hand into his pocket and searching for his car keys.
Snap out of it, Quincy; you're acting like a lovesick teenager.
