Hey Jude (Lennox Valley Chronicles #1)

“Bradley, actually,” he corrects him, insufferable pride oozing from his face.

This time I do roll my eyes, but I turn away first—just barely. I can’t face looking at Jude yet, knowing I’m flushing with embarrassment.

We make our hasty departure and I exhale with relief, but an awkward silence has crept in between us.

21

OLENA

The tension is palpable as we climb into our seats. I search Jude’s face for signs of the fun and flirty energy, but that seems to have suddenly evaporated. His expression is dark and pensive as he starts the truck and pulls out of the parking lot. I want to apologize and explain about Bradley and his vapid art gallery friends, but I don’t know where to begin.

Fuck.

In an attempt at lightening the mood, I try to channel some of the flirtatious vibe we had going earlier.

“So, do you think that was just beginner’s luck, or have I discovered a new superpower?” I venture with a wry smile, remembering all the delicious touching and teasing we shared while throwing axes. Spurred on by Jude’s approving gaze, I’d felt like a badass at The Battle Axe—like an invincible sex bomb with a blade. I desperately want those moments back.

Jude glances at me out of the corner of his eye and grunts softly in response, my efforts falling epically flat.

I exhale a breath, not sure how to get back to where we were before Bradley showed up and soured everything. The dreadful weight of rejection twists in my stomach. I pick at the rough edges of my fingernails, shifting in my seat.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” I say, trying again. “And those burgers were amazing.”

“Yeah,” he replies quietly. “They were good.”

More silence. Ugh.

“Running into Bradley was…”

“Awkward?” Jude offers, smirking slightly.

“Yeah, that’s one word for it.” I laugh nervously. And now we’re all awkward. Fucking Bradley. “Is something on your mind?”

“Just thinking.”

“About what?” I ask. Come on, I’m dying here.

“You,” he says simply, glancing my way.

“Oh.” I can tell he doesn’t want to say more, so I drop it.

The truck rumbles along the dark road as we sit in silence, the streetlamps rhythmically illuminating my legs, the dashboard, and Jude’s hands, in sweeping orange swaths of light. I don’t know how to fix this.

After what feels like an eternity, Jude finally speaks. “You really went out with that guy?” His voice is low and quiet. He keeps his eyes on the road.

A pang of humiliation hits me in the gut, both at the memory of that awful date and at how Jude must think differently of me now by association. A pained expression crosses my face. “Yes, but only once. I don’t know why he made it sound like more than that. That date did not go well.” I look out the window.

“Is that what you want?” he asks.

“What do you mean?” I almost laugh. I’m flabbergasted he’d assume anything about that pompous display would appeal to me.

“You know, the art gallery, the fancy dates, the fundraisers? Is that your scene?” he asks as he pulls the truck into his driveway and kills the engine. He shifts in his seat to look at me. It’s dark, but, even in the shadows, I can tell his expression is serious.

“Oh, God, no,” I reply quickly. “I mean, clearly I wouldn’t fit in with art gallery people.”

“He seemed to think you did. He invited you to that fundraiser,” he replies.

I can’t tell what he’s getting at. “He doesn’t even know me.” I shrug, a bit defensively. “Obviously, going out with him was a huge mistake. That experience… the people there made it clear I didn’t belong. They were… not my people.” I cringe at the memory of everyone staring at me as I almost had a very public panic attack.