Crash

This time I grimaced.

“Ahh, let me fill in the blanks as I’m very familiar with that look. They don’t know their precious daughter snuck behind their backs and brought this animal with a questionable past into her life.”

My grimaced deepened as he verbalized what I liked to sugar-coat.

“And since I’m on a roll here, let me fill in the blanks as to what their reaction will be.” He tapped his chin, looking at the sky. “They’re going to tell you to drop that thing like a bad habit and send him back where you found him.”

I blew out a rush of air. “Probably,” I said, attempting to form a rebuttal that would be convincing with my parents. I already knew dad would be on board by default, but mom was another story and my dad had learned years ago that life wasn’t pleasant if he wasn’t on the same parenting ship as mom.

“So why did you do it?” he asked, still staring at the dog like he was a puzzle. “Because you don’t strike me as the kind of girl that rebels against whatever her parents say.”

“I don’t,” I answered. “But we made kind of a big life change recently and I wasn’t able to give this up.”

“Life change? Give this up?” he repeated. “Okay, my interest was peaked when you shot me down, now I’m absolutely smitten since you made dog adoption out to be a vice.” He grinned over at me from the side and I swore I could feel my stomach bottoming out. “So what’s this big life change you’re up to those pretty little blue eyes in?”

I slid my sunglasses back into position out of principle. If he was going to find a way to be condescending about my eyes, he didn’t get to look into them. “We sold the house I grew up in and moved to our lake place,” I began, trying to sound as carefree as I could about it, “and the community we live in has the most ridiculous, restrictive covenants that don’t allow any kind of fence around the property, so it would only make sense those idiots won’t allow a dog off leash, right?” I was getting worked up just thinking about it, as my hands flying about expressed. “We don’t have a kennel, I can’t keep him inside the house because dad’s allergic, and you try putting a leash on this guy and he all but turns into the Tasmanian devil.” I glanced back at the dog, still eyeing Jude warily. “It’s like the idea of being tied to something sends him over the edge.”

“I know the feeling,” he said, glancing back at the dog with something new in his eyes. Camaraderie, was it?

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, reaching for my melted slurpee. “Already got the spiel about you not one for being tied down to things like girlfriends. No need for the instant replay.”

As I took a long and final sip of blue raspberry syrup, Jude leveled me with a look that held too much emotion for a man of his shallow character. “There are others ways to be tied to something than via a woman. In fact, I’d say I’m tied to just about everything else but a woman.”

Okay, I so wasn’t expecting this moment of vulnerability to slip from a guy who probably thought a nice first date included a visit to the backseat of his car. “Care to elaborate?” I asked, setting the empty cup into the sand.

“Not even a little bit,” he replied, staring out into the water. “But thanks for asking.”

“Jude!” someone yelled down the beach.

Glancing over at the shouter, a middle aged man who was rotund at best and grossly obese truthfully, Jude waved his hand. “Coming, Uncle Joe.”

“That’s your uncle?” My eyes flicked back and forth between Jude and Uncle Joe, finding no other resemblance than gender.

Jude nodded once. “Uncle Joe.”

“And those are your cousins?” Again, I surveyed the handful of boys ranging in age from probably kindergarten to high school, finding no definitive feature that would tie them to each other.

Another nod from Jude as he popped up.

“Do they all have different moms?” I asked, only teasing partly.

That made him laugh a laugh that I felt all the way down to my toes. “I think you might be on to something.”

Accepting the end was near, I decided to cut the tie early. “Well, it was . . .”—I searched for the right word, coming up empty —“something meeting you, Jude,” I said, as that smile of his angled at my word choice. “Have a nice life.”

“You too . . . ” he said, his brows coming together as he searched me for something.

“Lucy,” I offered, not sure why. I’d said my name a million different times and ways, but telling it to him seemed oddly intimate.

“Lucy,” he repeated, tasting the word in his mouth. Shooting me another tilted smile, he turned and headed towards the trail of boys leaving the beach.

“Oh god, Lucy,” I said to myself, flopping down on my beach towel. “What were you thinking? That was a serious heartbreak averted.”

Even as I said the words, with as much conviction as I could muster, my eyes weren’t able to peel themselves away from him as he ambled down the beach, spinning the football between his fingers.

Stopping suddenly, he turned around, that smile reforming when he found my stare on him. “So, Lucy,” he hollered, tucking the ball under his arm, “how much further are you going to let me get before you give me your phone number?”

Whatever premonitions I’d had about Jude and heartbreak going hand in hand flew out the window. I wanted to get up and break dance I was so stoked.