“This isn’t funny,” I scolded, scowling at the picnic table because it was impossible to scowl into his face.
“Sorry, sorry,” he laughed, rubbing my arms. “Sometimes the only way I can get through reminiscing about my shitty life is through humor,” he said, turning my face upward. “But the humorless, honest truth is that I didn’t care about them, and they didn’t care about me.” He stared hard into my eyes, and he couldn’t look at me the way he was now and not be honest.
“Okay,” I said, relieved this topic was officially off the books now.
“And if it helps you to know, the sex was unfulfilling and unsatisfactory.”
“It doesn’t help, but thanks for the foot note,” I said, snatching my apple back up.
“You know, it seems like you and me are either kissing the shit out of each other or discussing topics that are better kept in the graves they were buried in,” he said, chewing off a bite of pizza. “Why can’t we just have normal, everyday conversation?”
I chewed this over while I chewed my apple. “You’re right,” I said. “How can you be my boyfriend if I don’t know your political views, or what you think about the weather, or what you thought of the last movie you saw at the theater.”
“Point taken,” he laughed, chugging an entire can of pop in five seconds flat. “Screw the everyday crap. And the rotting corpse topics too. Just keep kissing me, or whatever else you might have in mind,” he said, wagging his brows, “until you’ve stockpiled enough crazy on my brain shelf I can’t talk straight anymore.”
“That sounds like a fulfilling relationship,” I said, turning and straddling the bench to face him. He was right about one thing; I was done with the whole talking thing this lunch hour.
The pizza slipped from his hands and hit the ground. “I’ll show you fulfilling,” he said, staring at my mouth.
His mouth was so close to touching mine I could already taste it when a backpack slammed down on the table across from us.
“Hey, Lucy.”
“Lord help me.”
Jude and Sawyer’s sentences overlapped each other as they both turned to each other.
“Ryder,” Sawyer said, sticking out his hand. It hung there a while before Sawyer stuck it in his pocket. “How’s it going?”
“It was going fantastically.”
I nudged his leg with mine in warning. So far, Sawyer was playing fair.
“Of course,” Sawyer said, looking between the two of us. “Sorry for interrupting you two. I just wanted to say something and then I’ll leave you to it.”
“Well,” Jude said, tying his arms around me. So territorial. “Say something.”
Sawyer smiled. “I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea if you heard about me taking Lucy home after Homecoming. I saw a friend who needed help and I helped her. I know she’s your girl, Jude.”
“So does that mean you’ll stop staring at her every time you see her in the hall?” Jude asked, staring at Sawyer.
“I’ll try,” he said, stretching his neck. “She’s a beautiful girl, Ryder. You’re a lucky man.”
“Don’t tell me what I have like I don’t know it,” Jude said, his arms stiffening.
“Jude,” I warned.
“Wow, easy, big guy,” Sawyer said, lifting his hands and walking backwards. “I didn’t mean to offend you, just wanted to say my piece and get to lunch.” Looking at me, his smile tipped higher. “See you in fifth period, Lucy.”
I shot him a wave as he turned and shoved through the door.
“I didn’t think I could hate that shithead more, but I should’ve known a dick of that degree has no hate limit.” Jude glared at the door Sawyer had walked through.
“Has anyone ever mentioned you might have anger issues?” I said, looking up at him. From the look of hatred in Jude’s eyes, you would have thought he’d never loathed anyone more.
Jude’s face softened just barely. “Only a few dozen times a year since puberty.”
Curling my fingers through his, I took another bite of apple. “What has Sawyer Diamond done to make you that pissed every time you see him?” I said, crunching apple bits. “Because, other than him having an overinflated sense of self and a smile so white it doesn’t register on the color palette, he doesn’t seem like that bad of a guy to me.”
Jude spun on me, his eyes bleeding to black. “Sawyer Diamond is what happens when god turns his head for one second. A guy like that doesn’t deserve second chances, or mercy, or understanding, especially from a girl like you, Luce, because he will twist that into something he can use to manipulate you.” His hands braced around my arms, holding me tight. “I want you to stay away from him, Luce. Don’t talk to him, or look at him, or acknowledge him in any way. You got me? Because he can deny it all he wants and pretends he’s a cheerleader for you and me, but he wants you so damn bad he’s probably off in the guy’s room jacking off right now.”
“Ew, Jude,” I said, making a face. “Gross.”
“Just stay away from him, Luce,” he said. “I’ve known that dick for ten years now and I can tell when he’s up to something. And he’s up to something.”
The lunch bell rang. We both groaned, tossing our half eaten lunches into the garbage. “I have three classes with the guy, how am I supposed to stay away from him?” I asked, while Jude wrangled up our bags and slung them over his back.
“I want you to kick him in the nuts every time you see him,” he said, not a trace of teasing in his voice, “and after a few of those, he’ll stay away from you.”
“Now why didn’t I think of that?” I said, thumping the palm of my hand against my forehead.
“Because you’re sweet and innocent and don’t know about sinister things like deflecting dirtbags,” he said, opening the courtyard door for me. “Leave the dirty work to me, Luce. You stay your sweet self.”
“And nut kicking isn’t considered dirty work in your world?”
“If it’s Sawyer Diamond’s balls we’re talking about kicking,” he said, grinning to himself, “that’s just plain fun.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A few weeks passed, and the picture worked its way to the bottom of the drama pile as the talk of the town shifted to Southpointe High’s newest quarterback.
Jude had singlehandedly turned a historically cursed team into the top ranked team in the conference. We were at four and one, and the one loss happened during the first game of the season before I forced Jude into joining.
I told him I expected half of his earnings when he was a big time NFL quarterback. He said I could have it all. The ironic thing was that the day after I’d said that, Coach A was given the head’s up that a crap load of scouts would be at Friday’s upcoming game. All the guys on the team were bragging about it, suggesting to their girlfriends and parents that a full ride to the PAC 10 was in the works, but everyone knew the only reason a dozen scouts would be in attendance at a Southpointe game was due to one Jude Ryder.
“Aren’t you a vision in gold sequins and crimson spandex,” a voice I’d been avoiding for weeks said from behind me.
I exhaled, looking for Jude. He towered over a huddle of seemingly tiny high school boys, completely in the moment.
So I replied, “Hi, Sawyer.” I could’ve sounded more enthused, but I’d avoided him for a reason. If Jude said he was someone to steer clear of, that meant he was someone to steer clear of.
“What?” he said, sliding up to me. “Was that an actual verbal response? Couldn’t be.”
“You’re reminding me why I’ve been verbally absent around you,” I said, stretching my dance top lower. Like most high school dance teams, Southpointe’s ascribed to the less is more motto of dance wear and, up until Sawyer’s eyes slid down me, I hadn’t minded the lack of cover.