Clash

I blasted the heaters as soon as I started it up and punched the gas a little too hard given the winter driving conditions. The car fishtailed a pattern in the snow before I got it under control. I hadn’t made it out of the parking lot and I was already losing control.

Taking a slow breath, I pressed down carefully on the gas and the car behaved.

By the time I’d left Long Island, I was feeling just comfortable enough with driving in the snow to be dangerous, but the roads were quiet and would only get quieter by the time I made it to Syracuse. It would be well past two a.m., maybe even later with the roads, before I pulled into Jude’s gravel driveway.

I didn’t know that’s where he’d gone‌—‌he could be anywhere‌—‌but that would be my starting point. I’d look under every nook and explore every cranny of New York until I found him. I didn’t care that he told me to leave him alone, to give him time to sort out his shit. I also knew there was truth in what my mom had said about men not wanting to talk the issue to death.

I didn’t need to talk‌—‌I just needed him to know I was here for him. I just needed to have him hold me while he figured out what needed figuring. I needed him to know I wasn’t going anywhere and he couldn’t send me somewhere that wasn’t where he was.

I just needed to have him look me in the eyes and know that everything was going to be okay.

It was after three by the time I cut the ignition outside of Jude’s. The snow had made the trip tricky and added another hour to the five hour journey. I wasn’t tired anymore though, because parked across the front lawn was Jude’s truck, the evidence of this afternoon’s incident, where his truck became a punching bag, facing my direction.

The usual rabble of cars dotted the street and driveway‌—‌not a party night showing‌—‌but every night at this place was some sort of party night.

Walking across the lawn, I made sure to go slow because the falling temperatures had made most of the state of New York a thin sheet of ice. I still had my Mary Jane’s on and they weren’t exactly ideal shoes to be tramping through an ice field in.

I made it up the walk and stairs and, resting my hand over the doorknob, I exhaled, realizing I’d been in such a hurry to get here, I hadn’t really planned out what I was going to say.

I didn’t need to say anything, I reminded myself. I just needed to wrap my arms around him and let him know I was here for him. However he needed me to be. Just as long as it wasn’t being left behind on some street in Soho.

I didn’t knock, because no one would have answered and knocking wasn’t a formality this place adhered to. In fact, there were no formalities that dwelled within the walls of this house, other than calling a cab for the latest girl you’d screwed.

A few guys were milling around in the living room, eating pizza and playing video games, but no one noticed me when I came in. Jude wasn’t amongst them, so I jogged up the stairs, hoping my search would end in his bedroom. I didn’t need an audience for however Jude was going to react to me showing up in the middle of the night.

His door was closed, no sounds coming from it other than the stream of the shower. Twisting the door open, I stepped inside. I was already heading towards the bathroom when I realized Jude wasn’t the one in the shower, causing the billows of steam to drift into the room.

He was draped over his bed, in a drunk coma.

Buck naked.

His fingers were still wound around an almost empty bottle of tequila. My mind couldn’t keep up with everything that was coming at it. Jude. Naked. Bed. Drunk. Tequila. Shower.

Just as my heart starting trilling with a realization I didn’t want to face, the shower shut off. I wanted to turn and run out of his room and this house and pretend I hadn’t seen any of it. I wanted to wake up tomorrow with a mind erased of everything from twelve p.m. yesterday to 3a.m. today.

I heard the shower curtain slide open and, just as I was backing up towards the door, someone sauntered out of the bathroom. As na**d as Jude and still wet from the shower, Adriana’s gaze shifted my way, her face falling for one second. And then it lifted into a smile. “Oops,” she said, turning towards me so I could see every na**d inch of the body Jude had enjoyed. “We weren’t exactly expecting you.”

I kept moving backwards, not able to get out of this room fast enough. In my hurry, my hip smacked into the side of Jude’s dresser. Something fell to the floor, shattering. I didn’t need to look down to confirm what had just shattered into an unfixable mess.

The noise jolted Jude awake. Shaking his head, the first thing he noticed was the bottle he was clutching. His eyebrows came together. Examining his na**d arms next, his eyes traveled back the length of him. A frown was added to his expression. Then he noticed Adriana, in all her naked, wet splendor, taking a break from smirking at me to shoot a wink his way.

His expression ironed out, his face paling, and then, when his eyes swept my way, his whole face broke. Like mine had.

I wasn’t going to lose it in front of her. I wasn’t going to let her see that she’d won. Finally reaching the door, I threw myself out of it, already sprinting down the hall when Jude’s shout rang after me.

“Luce!”

I didn’t stop‌—‌I didn’t even slow down. I would never stop or slow or sigh over him saying Luce again. Barreling down the stairs, I ran into a hard chest.

“Whoa,” Tony said, grabbing hold of me. “Lucy? What are you doing here?” he asked, looking down at me. “Why are you upset?”