Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Jude

Past

There’s only one month left of summer until I leave for medical school. If it wasn’t for the full-ride scholarship to one of the top universities, I’d consider searching for a different option. A closer option. Preferably not one located on the complete opposite side of the country.

It’s a little too late however, and I’m stuck with it. Which makes me sound like an ungrateful bastard. But I’ve never felt this before. I’ve never been so close to someone that they feel like an extension of me. Someone I can tell everything to, with no judgment. Ella takes me in stride better than anyone I’ve ever met. And while the usage of the word soulmate makes me cringe, it’s the only way to best describe what I feel with her.

The thought of her with another man makes me want to do violent things. And the thought of being with anyone else but her feels intolerable. For the past two months we’ve walked this delicate line—between friends and two people in love. If I touch her, I’m going to want more. I won’t be able to stop. Just like that night in the bar, when those carefully constructed lines began to blur and I got carried away. Then I saw the regret written all over her face as reality came crashing back down.

At the beginning of the summer, she had joked that every long-distance relationship she’s known of has failed miserably. She’s not wrong either. Between school, clinical hours, and simply trying to survive, a girlfriend would be another plate I’d have the chance of dropping amongst my juggling act of life. She doesn’t deserve a half-hearted effort, and that’s all I’d be able to give her. She’s like nothing else in this world, and she deserves to be a priority—the main one.

But what if I could do both? Med school and a relationship. It’s better than the alternative of not being with her at all. The possibility weaves its way into my chest, wrapping around my heart and squeezing it with the hope of making it all work.

Every day, every hour, and every minute I wonder if I’ll be able to contain what I feel for her much longer.

From the first moment I saw her, I was a goner. Now, after getting to know her on the level that I do, it feels as if I’m consumed, drowning in the risk and hope of opening that door with her.

As I sit here, parked at a lookout point facing the ocean, the crashing waves and endless horizon stretching before us, the reality of it all hits me. She sits cross-legged in the passenger seat of my car, bathed in the golden sunlight filtering through. The wind whips around us, rattling the vehicle, while she smiles ear-to-ear, animatedly telling a story.

After awhile, she turns to face me, biting her lip “You need to cut me off when I start blabbing like that.”

“Why? I love listening to you talk and hearing all the things going on in your brain.”

“It is a wild place up there sometimes.”

I nod toward her. “Tell me another one of those wild thoughts.”

She stares out the windshield, picturing whatever she’s thinking about. “Sometimes I just wish I could leap off a cliff like this, and start soaring around like a bird.”

“Where would you go first?”

She taps her chin thoughtfully. “Well, I’d definitely fly straight out of Lawson and into, I don’t know…some secluded beach with cocktails and zero responsibility.”

“I’m sold. That does sound nice. Can I come too?”

She grins. “You can come, as long as you promise to pull your own weight.”

“Deal. I’ll carry the luggage.”

She covers her face with her hands, laughing. I can’t help but laugh, too, and every time she catches my eye she bursts into another fit of laughter.

She wipes the tears from her eyes and breathes, “I’m sorry, I just keep picturing this tiny Jude bird with a backwards hat like yours, and a suitcase in its beak, and it’s hysterical. ”

“In what world would I be a tiny bird? I’d be a motherfucking eagle, thank you very much.”

“Wow, okay. You’re absolutely right. An eagle it is.”

Eventually her laughter fades, but the amusement stays, lighting up her eyes. It takes everything in me not to reach across the console, pull her into my lap, and erase the distance between us.

Instead, I reach for the Polaroid camera sitting on my dash and point it in her direction in an effort to remember this moment, and this feeling, forever. She tilts her head to the side, ready and posing in my hoodie, the sleeves bunching near her fists. Her smile is so uninhibitedly free and happy to her very core. I snap the picture, in complete awe of how breathtaking she is. I give the picture a shake, watching as the details slowly emerge on the tiny rectangle.

“How’d it turn out?” she asks, leaning across the center divide to peek over my shoulder. When she sees the picture—beach hair, no makeup, and in my gigantic sweater—she laughs. “Oh my god. You should’ve told me I look horrible.”

“El, you look gorgeous.”

She rolls her eyes, not believing me. “You don’t have to lie to me. I know I’m average at best.”

I look up at her, making sure she hears me perfectly clearly. “I’m not lying. I love you like this.”

She stares back for a moment, and something unspoken passes between us. A mutual understanding that this little friendship we started at the beginning of summer has now evolved into an entirely new connection. Something better.

Nudging me with her elbow, she quietly asks, “Take one with me?”

I spin the camera around, pointing it in our direction. Closing the space between us, she lies her head on my shoulder and scrunches her face into the world’s most adorable smile.

Snap.

The flash blinds us, as a picture spits out the top of the camera.

“One more?” I ask, my voice hoarse and not sounding like my own.

She nods, looking at me and then back up to the camera. The sight of her takes my breath away. Deep brown waves cascade over her shoulders, round hazel eyes filled with a silent wonder, and cheekbones that catch the golden sunlight. If only she knew what kind of chokehold she has me in. The miles I’d drive, and cliffs I’d jump, so long as it meant I got to be with her.

In that very moment, any sense of inhibition snaps. Internally I decide fuck it, take the damn leap. I lean in, kissing her cheek as I take the next picture. While it’s casual, it’s still a physical line we’ve always tiptoed around. I feel her freeze when my lips brush her skin, surprised that I’m doing something like this. My blood runs cold that I’ve fucked up our entire friendship.

Rushing to make amends for making her feel uncomfortable, I say, “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

When she turns to me, her eyes are fixated on my lips. And before I can get my next word out, she crosses over the threshold of the arm rest, and closes the distance—her mouth crashing into mine.

In that instant, I know I’m a ruined man. The feel of her lips, the needy press of her chest, my fingers tangling in her hair, and the little breathy exhales that escape her—every single detail is etched into my brain, cementing itself and rewriting my DNA as if it’s now part of my being.

Ella Thatcher may think she’s ordinary, but to me, she’s remarkable.