Clash

“I need to hear you say it,” he said, swallowing. “I’ve gone too many days without hearing it.”

Sighing, I closed my eyes. “I love you,” I said, knowing it was the truth and that it didn’t change anything. “And I missed you.”

“Yeah,” he said, “me too.”

Just then, the crowd, not just the ones around us, took a collective gasp before unleashing a cheer that exploded through the stands.

“It’s you guys!” Danny hollered, pointing at the huge screen across from us.

“Shit,” Jude and I said in unison.

I was going to have the camera man’s head because, on that screen‌—‌as well as the other three around the stadium‌—‌was a close up of Jude and me in real time, the red, bubbly “Kiss Me” captions surrounded by floating hearts.

The stadium started chanting, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” while my face went almost as red as those damn hearts floating around our faces on the screen. Jude wasn’t red though; he didn’t even look uncomfortable. He was somewhere between a smile and a smirk.

If I hadn’t known better, I would have believed he’d set the whole thing up.

Looking over at him, I found him staring at me.

His smirk evolved into a full blown cocky, hot as hell smile.

“Get over here,” he said, weaving his fingers through my hair.

I didn’t have to do much “getting over here” because he closed the entire space between us until his lips rested into mine. The crowd went wild‌—‌full moon wild‌—‌as their hero didn’t just kiss me. He consumed me.

His other hand lifted to my neck, his fingers curling into my skin, his lips urging mine, pressing them to respond.

I wasn’t sure if it was feeling the eyes of thousands of fans upon us, or the length of time that had passed since Jude and I had last kissed like this, or if the feelings that were washing over me‌—‌drowning me in their intensity‌—‌ that was terrifying me. Because those feelings ascertained that Jude was meant to be my one and only, had reality not gotten in the way and screwed that all up.

Finally, he gave up. His lips stopped trying to work mine into submission. His fingers drooped against me, feeling suddenly cold.

The crowd was still buzzing, clueless to the two hearts breaking following that kiss.

“I’ve really lost you,” he whispered, his words even cool against my skin. “You’re gone for good this time, aren’t you, Luce?”

I stared into those silver-gray eyes, not able to imagine anything I could do that was worse than hurting them.

“You can never lose me, Jude,” I said, forgetting about the crowd. Forgetting about everything except every reason we should be together and every reason we couldn’t.

“But I can’t have you the way I want you,” he said, running his thumb down my cheek.

“I don’t know.”

“Then what are you doing here, Luce?” he asked, his voice elevating. “You want time? You want space? Fine. I gave that to you. But then you keep throwing yourself back into my life whenever the hell you choose. No warning. No apology. No permanence. You show up at my front door and sneak out the back without so much as a goodbye,” he continued, never taking his eyes off of me. “You couldn’t take the up and down. The roller coaster was going to kill you. You know what I can’t take? You in and back out of my life before I even knew you were there in the first place. You looking at me the way you are now and then able to turn your back and walk away five minutes later.” His hand clenched over my cheek before he lowered it. “That is what will kill me. I can’t live wondering if you’re still mine to claim.”

It was like he knew the exact words that could choke me up at the same time they’d fire me up. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I just wanted to see you play one more time before I left for winter break. I never even thought you’d know I was here.”

He snorted, curling his lip in disbelief.

That physical response tilted the choked up/fired up emotions to the fiery pendulum. “Fine. Me popping in and out of your life will kill you? Consider me officially done with popping.”

“Will you knock that defensive, insecure girl shit out and have an adult conversation?” he said, the muscles in his neck moving under the skin‌—‌a sure sign he was firing up too.

“Happily,” I responded, gritting my teeth. “As soon as you do that can’t-handle-the-pressure thing you boys do and get up and leave.”

He paused, his face falling for one second before it fired back up. “You want me to leave?”

“I can’t imagine anything that would make me merrier this holiday season.”

“Fine,” he said, shooting up. “I’ll leave. But since you can’t seem to stay away from me for more than a few hours, I’ll see you soon, I’m sure.”

“If by soon you mean never, then that sounds good to me,” I replied, wanting to hop in my seat so I could get in his face. “Where do I sign?”

“You know, Luce?” he said, turning to head back up the stairs. “You have a shitty way of showing your love for someone.”

I flinched. That one hurt more than I could remember his words hurting me. Biting my lip, I glared at him.

“Right back at ya.” And that was a bold faced lie. Jude, perhaps more than any one I’d ever known, was able to express his love as love was meant to be expressed.