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2 4 | Until There Was You

It was still late when Jude awoke to the sound of the knob turning. His heart had been in his throat, swallowing back the fear that pounded in his stomach. At first, his eyes were barely open, but in a moment they were wide awake and he was panicking. His thoughts swarmed in like shoals, the dark contrast outside increasing his palpitations. Above the silhouettes of those tangerine houses, kissed by the steady blush of the rising sun were the hues that reminded Jude where he was. It told him that if he had been caught he wouldn't be safe.

He moved Waverly from his chest in a swift gesture that was rather sloppy. In the process, he tumbled onto the floor, hitting his head on the coffee table. Fortunately for him, he had been in a rush and didn't have time to feel the pain that came with such a tormenting surge of discomfort. He was sure that Ms. Sials was preparing to enter her house with the careless inkling and oblivious truth that her daughter had been laying with Jude Lockhart. Seeing them cuddled together wasn't ideal. They weren't ready to tell anyone whatever was happening between them. Really, Jude was trying to save his ass and hers.

More his own than anything.

"What the hell are you doing?" Waverly finally groaned, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. She even looked beautiful then. Her eyes were in slits, still dark and vivid at the same time. Her hair was in a curly mess, sticking in all directions against her brown skin, but that knowing frown struck gold as she glimpsed back at Jude. He felt himself peeling easily as she took him undone.

"Your mother," Jude mentioned, scrambling to find a place to hide. Anywhere that didn't give an intention that he was there at all. Waverly's eyes widened, and this situation felt all too foreign—hiding away. He didn't want to hide away. He wanted the world to know of him and Waverly.

But he had to remind himself that he and Waverly weren't together. In honesty, he didn't know what they were and believed it had been best if they kept that part unspoken. Jude knew how complicated things got when people talked about it. He learned that the hard way. So, for a bit he allowed himself to have that little moment of fun, even if it had just lasted for today.

"Shit, shit, shit. Okay...um go hide in my bedroom closet," she suggested, trying to make herself appear casual and pushing Jude off in the appropriate direction. Before going down the hall Jude playfully pulled Waverly into his arms and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She buried her smile and laugh in his chest and then she swatted him away and forced him to conceal himself from her mom. He darted down the hall in response, hearing the swing of a door afterward. He settled in her closet with his heart drumming as fast as humanly possible. He could feel his hands shake at his sides. The hangers behind him shook when he shifted, which produced a noise that probably shrilled through the hall.

He held his breath for what felt like forever, listening to the mumbling of their conversation, and the mere sound of footsteps slapping and thudding across the floor. The footsteps got closer, then further. Then silence overlapped the emptiness and darkness that resided in the space he hid in. His ear had been pressed against the door, waiting for his cue to leave. Sadly, that cue never came.

The door swung open and Jude was met with a nonchalant Waverly, her hand gripping the door rather tightly. She watched as Jude recovered from his fumble due to his ear being on the door. "Your car's outside, Lockhart. She knows you're here."

The most obvious thing. How could Jude have forgotten about his car? He couldn't talk his way out of this one, and now he was stuck for being careless and not thinking of parking a few houses down. Maybe, he had been so eager to see Waverly that he had missed the consequences that would coincide with his actions. All Jude could do was explain himself, but being found in Waverly's closet seemed to be all the more guilt-rattling. Still, he sighed and swallowed, stepping out of the closet and into the hallway. He followed Waverly into the living room where Ms. Sials sat on the sofa, intent on Jude's presence being there in the first place.

He tried coming up with a million excuses in his head, but none of them seemed to add up. All he could do was tell her the truth, and if that meant he could never see Waverly again it'd be his own fault, but something inside him sensed that he wouldn't let that happen. If it did he'd find a way beyond it. If that were ever the case Jude made sure it wasn't.

"Why the hell are you in my house at this time of night, Jude?" Ms. Sials asked in that parenting tone that sent shivers up his spine. Waverly wasn't in sight and Jude had to remind himself that this was his own battle. He also had to remind himself that whatever he said could affect Waverly in some way or the other.

"Our school had a football game and Waverly came for support. She didn't have a ride home, so I drove her," Jude informed.

"Then why were you hiding?"

"I didn't want you to get the wrong idea because we fell asleep on the couch," he added, hoping that that'd back him out of this conflict.

"I have another question for you, Jude," she said. "Why are you so close to Waverly now?"

The question had caught him by surprise. He couldn't tell her about his history of loose ends, or how he got to this point, but the red tainting his cheeks almost gave it away. "She's cool to be around, and a great friend. I didn't realize it before. I was an ass back then."

Ms. Sials gave a glare because of his word choice, and he cleared his throat. At that moment, he wasn't sure if he had been putting himself in the friend zone, but he hoped that whatever celestial body hovered above that Waverly hadn't been listening in on how awkward this was for him.

"You're a good guy, Jude, and I trust what you're saying is true. You're both grown enough to make your own decisions, but when you're in my house I don't tolerate sex. So if I find out that you've had sex in my house you will no longer be allowed here. Do I make myself clear?"

Jude nodded because words were too much for him now. He nodded because he knew if he spoke he might respond with the wrong thing, and when Ms. Sials spoke again, he knew that it wasn't the end. "You look at her in a way that doesn't seem like you want to be her friend."

Jude wished he saw the way he looked at her himself. He wondered if he tried to shroud it, or did his eyes light up like lightning bolts and bleeding stars. He wondered if he really looked at Waverly in a different light than Beverly when they were together. He sighed but didn't object.

"Waverly is a complicated one. I hope you know what you're signing up for."

Jude didn't know if he should have taken that comment seriously or as a joke, but he chose the latter and let out a nervous laugh. Quietness danced for a while.

"I'll see you around, Ms. Sials."

"Be careful out there," she warned. "Feel free to stay here if you want."

"It's alright. I'll just say bye to Waverly before I go."

She gave a nod and Jude went down the hall, observing Waverly placing a sticker on that familiar map. He smiled, leaning in the doorway and watching her do the task.

"Hey, I talked to your mom. We're cool," he told her.

"Cool," she responded with crossed arms.

"I'm leaving now," he added.

"Cool."

Jude felt unsatisfied with leaving on unfinished terms. Inside he wanted to stay, but he needed a reason. He wanted to talk about what had happened on the sofa and how she had fallen asleep on him without protest. He wasn't certain if he had heard her right last night and wanted to ask if what she had said was true. Did she really reciprocate those feelings, despite all the downfalls that came with that kind of admiration?

"Last night," Jude started. "We should talk about it."

"I was tired, and so were you. You should go home. Get some rest. It's been a long night."

"Goodnight, Waverly."

Good morning, moreover, but that wouldn't change anything if he said otherwise. He wished he would have said more. He wanted to say more—to ask what had gone wrong—but he didn't. Instead, he gave her one last look, turned, and left. He tried not to think of it as much that night—any of the events for that matter, but when he entered his house with the smell of liquor castrating the walls, he couldn't have been more wrong.

He found his dad passed out on the sofa with about four beer cans sprawled on the table nearby. The television had been flickered on, playing some old show that was probably older than himself. A curdling pain uprooted in Jude's stomach at the sight of his dad. What had his dad been doing to himself? He hated that he had to watch him destroy himself. This was his fault because if he kept it to himself then his dad would be fine. Now, he could hardly recognize him anymore. He could hardly recognize either of them anymore.

Jude tried to ignore everything that happened that night, thinking about Waverly instead, but she too had been blocking him out now, beckoning and giving him a reason to feel like he had done something wrong. He couldn't think of her now. And maybe it was where it all started, Jude continuously blaming himself when in reality the other party owed just as much credibility. It must've been a habit, one he couldn't break—even after everything that had happened to him.

Waverly couldn't be his distraction this time. So Jude picked up the remaining beer bottles, threw them out, and dragged himself upstairs. The sun was set by then, and it seemed like if Jude closed his eyes for a second he'd wake back up.

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That early afternoon Jude found himself a new distraction that could suffice; he decided to play video games with Lincoln as a mere substitute. His mind wasn't completely there despite this, and it was as if Lincoln sensed it because he paused the game moments after. Of course, he had to bring it up, Jude thought. Why couldn't he have gone through his day hiding his emotions like he was supposed to? Was it really that obvious? Was he that obvious?

"What's up with you? We won one of the biggest games of our season last night and you're moping around like someone died."

"Football isn't everything, Linc."

"Does this have anything to do with Waverly?"

Jude didn't bring himself to say anything because it had nothing to do with the way Waverly had urged him to leave last night. There was definitely more going on that led to his current state, but he let Lincoln think that because he didn't know about his parents.

"I'm guessing it has everything to do with her," he assumed, then laughed. "You got friend-zoned, didn't you?"

He hadn't been sure he thought of that as a reason, and maybe it had been the best excuse to use. She had been regretting what happened, he assumed. She had realized how stupid everything would play out, and to Jude it made sense. Then again, it didn't. After everything that happened—what was said— how could he possibly be in the friend zone. Was he?

"Honestly? I don't know," he admitted.

"Go talk to her then."

He sighed, gripping his controller and staring at the television screen. If he talked to her it'd complicate things. Jude learned that the hard way with every situation he talked through. It never ended well. Lincoln didn't stop the conversation there.

"I bet you're just overreacting, Lockhart."

And maybe he was, but he didn't respond and instead started the game and tried to distract himself. He focused on that game for the rest of the day until his dad came downstairs. Jude could read his features like a book, analyzing his gestures and watching him clear his throat.

"I'm going into the office and I'll be home late," he informed.

He wasn't sure if he was telling the truth because the somber expression on his face said otherwise. He didn't question it and responded with a muffled alright, returning to the game in front of him. If his dad had been lying, what could Jude do? He couldn't stop him, but maybe he could get his mother to. Maybe, Jude could fix his family and the way he was feeling.

Usually, he would beat Lincoln with no struggle, but today it seemed harder because he wasn't focused. Lincoln must have sensed this and when Jude's dad disappeared upstairs again, he spoke.

"Let's go see her," he suggested. Jude didn't have to think to know who he had been talking about, and it seemed as if Lincoln believed he addressed the root of the problem. There was no doubt he was wrong, not completely, however, but there was more to this said problem that Lincoln left out because he didn't know. Still, he was trying to be a good friend and Jude appreciated his attempt.

"I'll pass. She probably doesn't want to see me right now."

"Bullshit."

"Are we talking about the same person? She's Waverly."

"And?"

"She doesn't give a fuck."

"How do you know that?" Lincoln wondered. "Or did you just assume she didn't?"

"Whatever," he retorted. "Can we play, or are you going to keep harassing me about her? She isn't the only thing I'm stressed about."

"There's something you're not telling me, Lockhart?"

"Yeah, actually, there's a lot I'm not telling you," he found himself saying. The words didn't really slip out, they came as easily as it was to play football, simplest way he gripped the ball and ran up toward the end zone. He ended up telling Lincoln parts of it in the vaguest ways, subtle hints pulled from the actual story. He talked about him, Beverly, and Seth, and how the baby had been Seth's the entire time. In Jude's mind he was recalling the emotion he felt that day Seth was at his doorstep, almost rubbing the idea in his face.

Of course, if he had been the father they'd be too corrupted to ever be a real family, and he wondered how long it would have been before Beverly had told him the truth. If she hadn't, he would've lived a lie, throwing his own life away for a child that wasn't his. And suddenly the relief had replaced the betrayal.

He also told Lincoln about his parents arguing—not the full story, but enough to get a picture of why his parents were no longer under the same roof, and why his mother had finally shown up for one of his football games. It was obvious she felt guilty for her actions, and that sickened Jude. As he continued to inform Lincoln, keeping the conversation refined, refusing to show any emotions the entire time, he felt himself slipping into the cracks. He relived every memory, all the words and actions appearing in his head.

"Well, shit," Lincoln responded when Jude had finished talking. Well, shit, was right.

"That's a lot."

"No kidding," he muttered. "I just need a break from it. I thought if I didn't talk about it today..." he trailed off when he heard the ring of his phone. He checked to find that it had been Waverly calling. Lincoln caught sight of it, and their conversation dispersed just as quickly as it began. Lincoln didn't bring it back up the rest of his time there.

"Your saving grace," Lincoln teased when Jude answered the call, and Jude punched him in the arm as a result, standing up and walking in another direction.

"Hey," he greeted. "Is everything okay?"

"Do you wanna go somewhere?" Was the only thing she said, cutting off his question with no context. She didn't bring up any of the things he had been thinking about. Clearly, that didn't seem to matter to her.

"Right now?"

"No, tomorrow," she responded sarcastically. "Yes, right now."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Montana."

Automatically, he knew what she meant, recalling her words from months before when she first showed him that familiar map.

I think my dad lives there.

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TO BE CONTINUED

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