Clash

“Luce,” he said, stroking my face, “you’re my family. Where you go, I go.” He blinked, looking through the windshield. “There’s no one else but you.”

I didn’t like to dwell on Jude’s lack of family because it made my heart hurt like it was now. Jude truly had no family. No parents, no siblings, no grandparents, aunts or uncles. And not due to choice. Jude’s family had all, one by one, abandoned him.

I knew, at the core of his anger and possessiveness of me, this was what he feared most from me: one day turning my back on him and walking as far away as I could get.

The ache in my heart deepened.

“Good,” I said, trying to play it off like I wasn’t hurting, “because we’re a team and teams don’t let their members go to family holidays alone.”

“Okay, team,” he said, turning in his seat, stalling just as much as I was. Taking a glance at my dorm looming in front of us, he sighed. “’Til Thursday?”

I picked up where his sigh let off. “’Til Thursday.”

Leaning in, his eyes drifted down to my mouth. “Better make it a good one then.”

I couldn’t help but smile, despite feeling like shit. Wetting my lips, I leaned closer, making it a good one.

CHAPTER NINE

The scent of patchouli and the beat of reggae swept through the hallway, alerting me that my roommate and friend, India, had, was currently, or was about to get her freak on in our dorm room. It was an every other day occurrence in my life.

If I was lucky, I could dodge in and dodge out with my books so I could study down in the commons area. If I wasn’t, and the room starting erupting with screams and grunts and snarls, I’d just have to wait it out. The last time I’d walked in on India with her man of the day, I’d seen things no god-fearing person should have to.

Stopping outside the door, I listened. Nothing but Bob Marley getting his grove on. “Indie?” I said, tapping on the door. “Is it safe to come in there?”

“Safe, little miss pure and prude,” India shouted back at me through the door.

Opening the door, the muskiness of patchouli almost floored me. India was draped over the chair we had stuffed in the corner wearing her red silk kimono bathrobe, smoking something that probably wouldn’t be kosher with the resident advisor.

“Have a nice time?”

“Eh-huh,” she breathed, giving me a stupid little grin. “If you were five minutes earlier, we could have made this a three way.”

Throwing my bag down on my bed, I plopped into our rolling chair. “Sucks to be me.”

India leaned forward in her chair, her dark skin still dotted with sweat. “Speaking of sucking,” she began, pursing her lips together, “did you guys…?” She made a few circles with her index finger.

“None of your business,” I said, spinning a revolution in the chair.

“So you didn’t,” she said, leaning back into the chair.

“Nope,” I said, clucking my tongue, “we didn’t.”

“It does suck to be you,” she said, chuckling.

“Oh, shut up,” I said, grabbing our stuffed aardvark we kept propped on our computer desk and tossing it at her. “You’re getting enough for all of us.”

“Yes,” she said, taking another pull of her smoke, “yes, I am.”

Giving the chair another spin, I stared up at the ceiling, stalling on the whole studying endeavor because, while India was the female equivalent of a manwhore, there was no else who could listen or offer better advice when it came to the complicated world of men than my roommate. Save for Holly, but she was stuck on a flight for the next couple of hours and I needed advice STAT.

“How was Jude?” she asked, picking up on my stalling tactics.

“He was…” I sighed, replaying the weekend. A lot of highs and lows. “He was Jude,” I settled on.

“Roller coaster Jude,” Indie said, making a mm-mm-mmm sound with her mouth. “Now, honey, that’s one ride I’d never want to get off.”

“I know,” I said, starting to feel dizzy from the spinning. “I don’t want to either.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is the roller coaster,” I said. “We’re either on top of the world or knocking on hell’s door. There’s no in between. No breathing room. Just constant up and down at one hundred miles per hour.”

It always felt good talking with India about my concerns with Jude’s and my relationship. She never judged, just gave solid advice.

“I know, Lucy,” she said, shifting in her seat, “but your man’s a passionate person. Just like you are. If the two of you are together, you’ve got to accept the roller coaster as a way of life. You wouldn’t want him to change who he is any more than he’d want you to change. The drastic ups and downs will be what spending your life with Jude will be like. That’s a fact. You just have to ask yourself if it’s worth it. Is what the two of you have together worth the sacrifice?” Her eyes narrowed on me, driving the message home.

I knew she was right, and I knew it was worth it, but I was human and couldn’t help but want the unattainable. “I just wish I could trade in the roller coaster for a carousel. Able to anticipate what was around every corner, making the journey with less dramatic ups and downs.”

“I get that,” India said, nodding her head, “but that’s not the hand you were dealt, baby. Jude was the hand you were dealt, and that man is no carousel, Lucy. That man is the super-duper-looper, Six Flags, knee-trembling roller coaster extraordinaire.” She sucked in a breath, out of it after that deposition.