Jud
Curly had his guitar with him that day, was strumming away like caressing wood and string was better than caressing the girl next to him. Jud could be grateful for that, at least; there were much worse things they could have been doing under that peach tree.
He knew Laurey wasn't stupid. One day, she would realize she could do so much better. She'd realize she deserved to be with a man who'd give her his full attention, who'd make her money and love her more than anything. If she chose him, Jud would even forgive her for her flirtation with Curly; she'd probably be grateful for that. He'd understand that women sometimes made mistakes and didn't know what was best for them, sometimes went for what was dashing and dazzling instead of what was good and real, at least at first.
They turned in unison at the sound of his footsteps. Both of them just glanced up, saw it was him, then went back to leaning up against the peach tree, like he was just some animal not even worth commenting on, let alone talking to. He ignored them too, and walked straight ahead, into the cornfield.
Seeing them together always took him by surprise. He could lose himself so easily in his dreams of her that catching her with Curly was a fresh betrayal each time. He hadn't worried at first. Curly had seemed like less of a threat than Jace had. Jace had been serious, seemed to care for her, had a steady job, and was a decent enough farmer. Even Jud could admit that much. Curly, though, was all swagger and song. Didn't seem like the type who could be tied down unless the girl was pregnant, and at first he figured Laurey sensed it too, figured she'd be too smart to let him string her along just for fun.
So, at first he'd thought she was just putting up with Curly, that at most she enjoyed him as a break from Jace. But the months had gone by and he kept hanging around, kept showing up uninvited, laughing with Aunt Eller like he was a member of the family, kept spending time with her alone. Like they were at that moment. Jud hated that most, hated what it could mean. He knew nothing had happened in her bedroom, he looked inside enough to make sure of that, but there were plenty of places around the farm they could go without his noticing. Places where Curly could put his hands all over her, the parts of her body Jud knew rightfully belonged to him; he'd looked at them enough, fantasized about them enough.
Worst of all was the thought of her being happy with it. Of her leaning into Curly's kisses, of her willingly pressing her body against his. Of the two of them laughing at him when their limbs were all tangled up together, laughing about how much better off she was with Curly than him, about how pathetic he was for hanging around her, for being so lovesick over her. Worse yet was the knowledge that she probably didn't think of him at all when she was with Curly. She might be so wrapped up in Curly that Jud wouldn't even enter her thoughts long enough for her to feel sorry for him, or hate him, or feel however she felt about him.
And why should she think about him? Why shouldn't Laurey want a handsome boy who could serenade her and tease her? Why should she want someone with dirt on his hands, someone who could barely talk when he was near her? He hated her for not wanting him, but worse than that, he hated himself for not being good enough for her.