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0 4 | Until There was You

Jude's eyes were concentrated on the clock in the detention room. The teacher, who happened to be the physical education coach, declared no talking permitted (at the start of the event). However, all those commands were revoked of any meaning when he stuffed his earbuds in. Whispers were skipped throughout the room and the sounds of phones vibrated in the silence.

At first, he was unaffected by the punishment, but tossed that nonchalance aside when Beverly walked in with Seth trailing behind her. He told himself to keep his eyes on that damn clock. If he didn't do so, performing the latter action that danced in his mind would subject him to another three days of suspension. Would that be such a bad thing if it meant slapping the jovial expression off Seth's face?

Silently, he captured the endless ticking to devoid the feelings which rose. Unfortunately, it came to no avail. Watch the clock, he reminded himself again. Abhorrent feelings swelled. It was like he'd combust if he didn't watch the one thing in the room that was constant. That glass explosion was on the brink. He was gradually losing it. He was going to lose against Seth again too, and lose the battle he was internally fighting with himself. His fingernails dug crescents into the palms of his calloused palms.

The ticking sensation intensified. Jude couldn't help but grit his teeth at the sight of the pair. He couldn't help the way his leg danced in agony or the way his eyes swarmed with hatred. Then, Weird Waverly entered the small classroom, skimming the premise and releasing a scoff. Despite her entrance, Jude was still angered momentarily. He clenched his jaw tightly, wondering how this played out to be a meaningful coincidence. Like how the fuck? Or why the fuck?

Then there was some relief that she was there when they were too. It didn't feel as bad of a stab. When she sat down he finally asked, "How'd you get detention?" 

She glanced in his direction with this soothing hardness to her gaze. They were absorbing every detail she glanced at. It was intimidating as fuck.

"Skipped a few classes. Nothing as serious as your reason," she replied, glancing at Seth and Beverly, then back at Jude. Jude tried his best not to react to her reply.

"I shouldn't even be in here," Jude commented. "Especially with them."

"It's torture, isn't it?"

Jude without hesitation winced.

Waverly rolled her eyes in aggravation, ignoring the way his emotions tripped over each other. It didn't really seem to bother her.

"I just—" he huffed and stopped himself, collecting himself.

"They're not even paying attention to you. Seth is too busy sliding his hand up her thigh and your horny ass ex-girlfriend is enjoying it," she pointed out. Jude started balling his fist, thinking of the punching bag and Seth's face. Don't look at them. But then he turned only to see the two familiar faces occupied on their cellphones.

"Gotcha," Waverly teased, leaning back in her chair. Even though Jude was infuriated at first, he found himself smiling; maybe because it hadn't been true or maybe because it wasn't. Before he could speak again, Waverly had her earbuds plunged into her ears with her eyes closed. All seemed okay as the silence engulfed them into a steady realm of normality. Until Beverly was in the seat in front of him, smiling softly with her eyes shining weakly. Jude's body stiffened like a statue.

"You didn't reply to my text," she started.

"I know," he muttered, refusing to meet her gaze. And for a moment Jude was glad that Lincoln walked in on him reading that text at the gym.

"Grey, look at me," she said in a low, soft voice.

He didn't. Even if he wanted to at the sound of that name. He remembered her saying it like it was yesterday, whispering to him how she loved his eyes. Jude sucked in a breath, holding his ground, clenching his jaw.

"I was hoping we could put this behind us. I really am sorry. I've missed you, miss us and the way we all used to hang out," she said in that voice. The voice that made Jude want to kiss her over and over. She knew what she was doing to him, Jude thought. She had to know.

But he stayed quiet, hoping she'd leave because of the longing silence. That was exactly what he expected, but gained the opposite. In contrast to the torture he was feeling nothing seemed easy. Nothing felt durable. He was confused and sad ass fuck. And numb. So, so numb. And just as he was about to look at her a voice cut him off and he averted his gaze.

"Fuck off," Waverly budded in, catching both Jude and Beverly by surprise. "Do you hear how desperate you sound?"

Beverly blinked several times, looking at Jude, waiting for him to respond to Waverly's comment and defend her. Instead he looked straight into her eyes without saying a word as if agreeing with Waverly. "Obviously you've hurt him, but that doesn't matter as long as you have your way. It's pathetic. Now, fuck off."

Beverly blinked more, taken aback by the words of the stranger she saw him with previously. Then, she stood up, leaving without a second glance. This time he didn't watch her leave or glance in Seth's direction.

"What was that for?" Jude asked when he knew Beverly was too far to hear him.

"Don't get any ideas, Lockhart. She started to annoy me."

"Thanks," he responded in what sounded like a forced mutter. Waverly ignored his thanks and instead plopped her earbuds back in, but this time her eyes remained open. Not all heroes wear capes.

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Football practice was easily Jude's favorite part of the day. Although it was simple aggression on a field, Jude always enjoyed it. He loved smiling at some of the cheerleaders, but most of all he loved smiling at his beautiful girlfriend—like really smiling—who sat in the bleachers, attempting to complete her homework while watching Jude, waving happily with her friends lingering by. One of those friends had been Bridget. Jude missed the memory so much because that was when he was the most happy. However, the circumstances were presented differently now and Beverly wasn't there.

He was late for practice because of detention. Seth was walking in front of him a few yards ahead. Jude dragged his practice gear, letting it hang loosely from his hands. Seth jogged up to Coach Bergamot, who had a whistle hanging between his lips. Seth and Coach were talking for a moment, then he was pointing in the direction where the rest of the team had been doing drills with the other coaches.

"Hurry up, Lockhart. You're already late."

Jude didn't give him a second glance because he was already running towards the group of offense players, preparing for the plays and the drills. He remembered being told by Lincoln that their undefeated ratio had been altered because of their loss to one of their hardest rivalry teams last Friday. The entire team took the L with utter disappointment as did Jude (even he hadn't been there to witness it first hand).

He blamed himself for that loss. If he hadn't gotten angry and punched Seth he would have still been able to play in the game and they could have won. He would have at least had that. But that wasn't the case and he paid with the consequences. He was sure everyone on the team was pissed at him. They blamed him, but the most prominent truth was he blamed himself more than ever.

For a moment his football gear felt heavier than usual like he was wearing bricks. His shoulder pads somehow felt too tight. His practice jersey was too tight. His cleats were too tight. He adjusted his helmet before it was his turn to bear crawl to the fifty year line. When it was his turn his throat constricted.

The sun was blazing hot and sweat dripped down his face and neck under his helmet. Just standing out there in the sun had him bursting into flames. Finally, he got on the ground, palms in the grass, cleats digging as he crawled. His legs were burning, throbbing as he urged himself to continue. His legs were going to give out—dropping with the rest of his body—but he pushed himself.

He crawled forward, hoping not to crash in front of the ass of a player in front of him. And he finished, bolting all the way past the fifty yard line, standing up with his legs nearly shaking in his shoes. Toward the end of the line he and Seth bumped shoulders 'accidentally.' After all, Principal Brown did tell them they could take their anger out on the football field. Seth tried ignoring the bump, continuing to huff from the exercise drills. This was his fucking fault too, Jude thought. He watched Lincoln walk toward the end of the line, standing behind him.

"You do realize this is a mass punishment," Lincoln said.

"For what?"

"Losing Friday. For you and Seth. We've been doing it for thirty minutes and since you and Seth were late you guys'll have to stay after practice and finish the rest of the time you missed," Lincoln explained with his practice jersey hovered up, sticking to his dark skin.

Him and Seth. The only two on the field. That's enough to cause a stir of anger in Jude's chest. "We're a team and if one of us does something stupid we all have to."

"It's my fault," Jude admitted in a mutter after a beat of silence. Of course it was, and even if he tried to convince himself that it wasn't it ended up being the same. He blamed himself.

"Man, you gotta stop doing this to yourself, you didn't sleep with Seth's girlfriend or some shit like that. Things happen and it's okay to be mad. If I were you I probably would have done the same thing, but we have to focus on the bigger picture and that's kicking ass and winning."

Jude laughed a little.

"I forgot to mention that the rest of the team is pissed at you."

"I know," Jude said.

"You should probably try not to fuck up."

"I know."

"And you're not a lost cause."

Jude almost forgot that he said that days ago. It didn't bother him anymore though. He closed his eyes, his eyelashes brushing his skin. Then, opened them up to the world again. "I know."

But he wasn't convincing himself or Lincoln or anyone. In some ways he felt like a lost cause.

It was his turn to crawl again, but he made no effort to complain with the assistant coach blowing his whistle right next to his ear. And finally after about twenty more minutes, at the time when it looked late afternoon, almost a bitter evening, they were running plays. Jude wasn't even starting. He was on the sidelines watching the plays unfold. Among the starters Seth was there, throwing the ball like the quarterback usually did. Then Coach Bergamot shouted, "Lockhart get in."

A few looks of curiosity, annoyance, and aggravation peered in his direction. He ran on the field on offense, getting in his stance. Oftentimes he was the running back, but he also played as wide receiver on some occasions. He knew the play like the back of his hand. He ran out when the word hike exploited and Jude was dashing to his spot down the field, looking up at the ball. He was wide open too, unfortunately when Seth threw it to him it went a little too high over his head and Jude couldn't catch it. That could have been an interception in the game.

That never would have happened two weeks ago when Seth and Jude were friends. Because at one point in time they were different and Jude would rarely miss open catches. Things have changed though. The next play they ran involved Jude running up the middle through the defensive players into the end zone. He only gained a couple yards. They continued to try different routes until Coach blew the whistle for a water break. And the process continued again with Coach Bergamot switching out players left and right. It was understandable why. Because he knew he couldn't depend on Seth and Jude when things like last week occurred.

Jude was surprised that he didn't get kicked off the team—thankful even. After practice the other players left and so did the assistant coaches, but Coach Bergamot stayed and demanded for Seth and Jude to stay as well.

"You two aren't done until I get tired," he said, making them run sprints, then back to the tiresome process of bear crawls. Jude continued to glare out the corner of his eye at Seth and Seth did the same.

"Maybe if you caught the damn ball we wouldn't be here," Seth uttered.

"Maybe if you knew how to throw a fucking footb--"

Coach could sense the tension and interrupted Jude midway.

"Alright, stop. What the hell is up with the two of you?"

Jude gritted his teeth as sweat droplets traveled down his body. He removed his helmet, holding it near his hip. His eyes darkened when Seth cleared his throat awkwardly, looking at Jude. Jude's heart quickened and an adrenaline rush coursed through his body. He felt like running, and running, and running away from everyone.

"Nobody's going to explain?"

Jude knew Coach was probably aware of the situation. Everyone was. Jude even got pity today by the lunch lady. The fucking lunch lady. Coach just wanted to make this entire situation more awkward than what it was. Guys didn't talk about their problems, his dad told him—they had to protect their pride. There were times where he listened to his dad, but then there were times like then when he excused it and said fuck it.

"How about this, I'm going to sit right over there until you guys work out your differences and let me know when you're done being cry babies. We have a game Friday and we don't need any drama."

He was gone before either of them could object. Seth looked at Jude. "Look dude, I'm sor—"

Before he could finish Seth was on the ground, gasping for air in his lungs and Jude could hear Coach laughing. Despite this, he ignored it.

"How could you do this to me? How could she do this to me?" His voice wasn't his. His words weren't his words. His actions weren't his. But his heart was and it was spilling. He punched Seth and Seth let him.

"Jude, calm the fuck down," Seth said after the fourth punch, blocking his face. Jude knew that if Seth tried he could easily slip out and the roles would be reversed. Seth's lip burst open and his eye swelled. Jude stopped breathing as hard, getting off Seth, and sitting on the grass.

"I'm sorry. Now, can you stop acting like such a pussy?"

Jude punched him much harder this time.

"Ah," he groaned, getting his head out of the grass and holding his nose. Jude shook his fist because punching him actually hurt. His knuckles were bruised. "Okay. I deserved that. So, are we good?"

Seth stood up, reaching out his hand to help Jude up. In response, Jude stared at it, then at Seth with a blank expression. He stood up on his own, brushing past Seth. "We'll never be 'good.'"

Jude grabbed his stuff, walking off the field. He ignored Seth who was shouting his name and Coach who found the whole situation stressing and amusing at the same time.

"Get back here, Lockhart," Coach said, but understood why he must have been angry and didn't urge on. Instead he let him leave.

When Jude walked out into the parking lot, making it to his car he saw a familiar head of brown hair. Beverly. She was standing there with her arms wrapped around herself, looking at him in desperation.

"Hey," she greeted.

He sucked in some oxygen and directed his gaze onto the ground. Could the day get any shittier?

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TO BE CONTINUED

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