Clash

by Nicole Williams

  Grabbing my thigh, he slid me closer until we took up a space intended for one person. He didn’t let go once the entire drive.

  “Why does Thursday seem like it’s never going to get here?” I groaned, stalling outside of my dorm in Jude’s truck.

  “Because it will feel that way,” he answered, brushing my hair over my shoulder.

  I groaned louder. Holly had made it off on time and, while I’d willed the drive from the airport to Juilliard to go slowly, it of course hadn’t. The goodbyes Jude and I were forced to make every Sunday never got easier. We went to schools nearly five hours apart, so the possibility of sneaking in an afternoon weekday visit was out of the question. When we said goodbye, it was goodbye for an eternal five days.

  Except for this week. It would only be for three days due to Thanksgiving break. It was truly a time to be grateful.

  “So you’re okay with celebrating with my dad and mom on Thursday?” I asked again, just to make sure. Jude had been civil, as had they, but there was a strain between the two families that I doubted would even slacken with time. Jude’s father murdering my brother because my father had fired him was the kind of drama day time television creators couldn’t even conceive of. It was the kind of thing people didn’t “get over” after a few family dinners.

  “Luce,” he said, stroking my face, “you’re my family. Where you go, I go.” He blinked, looking through the windshield. “There’s no one else but you.”

  I didn’t like to dwell on Jude’s lack of family because it made my heart hurt like it was now. Jude truly had no family. No parents, no siblings, no grandparents, aunts or uncles. And not due to choice. Jude’s family had all, one by one, abandoned him.

  I knew, at the core of his anger and possessiveness of me, this was what he feared most from me: one day turning my back on him and walking as far away as I could get.

  The ache in my heart deepened.

  “Good,” I said, trying to play it off like I wasn’t hurting, “because we’re a team and teams don’t let their members go to family holidays alone.”

  “Okay, team,” he said, turning in his seat, stalling just as much as I was. Taking a glance at my dorm looming in front of us, he sighed. “’Til Thursday?”

  I picked up where his sigh let off. “’Til Thursday.”

  Leaning in, his eyes drifted down to my mouth. “Better make it a good one then.”

  I couldn’t help but smile, despite feeling like shit. Wetting my lips, I leaned closer, making it a good one.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The scent of patchouli and the beat of reggae swept through the hallway, alerting me that my roommate and friend, India, had, was currently, or was about to get her freak on in our dorm room. It was an every other day occurrence in my life.

  If I was lucky, I could dodge in and dodge out with my books so I could study down in the commons area. If I wasn’t, and the room starting erupting with screams and grunts and snarls, I’d just have to wait it out. The last time I’d walked in on India with her man of the day, I’d seen things no god-fearing person should have to.

  Stopping outside the door, I listened. Nothing but Bob Marley getting his grove on. “Indie?” I said, tapping on the door. “Is it safe to come in there?”

  “Safe, little miss pure and prude,” India shouted back at me through the door.

  Opening the door, the muskiness of patchouli almost floored me. India was draped over the chair we had stuffed in the corner wearing her red silk kimono bathrobe, smoking something that probably wouldn’t be kosher with the resident advisor.

  “Have a nice time?”

  “Eh-huh,” she breathed, giving me a stupid little grin. “If you were five minutes earlier, we could have made this a three way.”

  Throwing my bag down on my bed, I plopped into our rolling chair. “Sucks to be me.”

  India leaned forward in her chair, her dark skin still dotted with sweat. “Speaking of sucking,” she began, pursing her lips together, “did you guys…?” She made a few circles with her index finger.

  “None of your business,” I said, spinning a revolution in the chair.

  “So you didn’t,” she said, leaning back into the chair.

  “Nope,” I said, clucking my tongue, “we didn’t.”

  “It does suck to be you,” she said, chuckling.

  “Oh, shut up,” I said, grabbing our stuffed aardvark we kept propped on our computer desk and tossing it at her. “You’re getting enough for all of us.”

  “Yes,” she said, taking another pull of her smoke, “yes, I am.”

  Giving the chair another spin, I stared up at the ceiling, stalling on the whole studying endeavor because, while India was the female equivalent of a manwhore, there was no else who could listen or offer better advice when it came to the complicated world of men than my roommate. Save for Holly, but she was stuck on a flight for the next couple of hours and I needed advice STAT.

  “How was Jude?” she asked, picking up on my stalling tactics.

  “He was…” I sighed, replaying the weekend. A lot of highs and lows. “He was Jude,” I settled on.

  “Roller coaster Jude,” Indie said, making a mm-mm-mmm sound with her mouth. “Now, honey, that’s one ride I’d never want to get off.”

  “I know,” I said, starting to feel dizzy from the spinning. “I don’t want to either.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is the roller coaster,” I said. “We’re either on top of the world or knocking on hell’s door. There’s no in between. No breathing room. Just constant up and down at one hundred miles per hour.”

  It always felt good talking with India about my concerns with Jude’s and my relationship. She never judged, just gave solid advice.

  “I know, Lucy,” she said, shifting in her seat, “but your man’s a passionate person. Just like you are. If the two of you are together, you’ve got to accept the roller coaster as a way of life. You wouldn’t want him to change who he is any more than he’d want you to change. The drastic ups and downs will be what spending your life with Jude will be like. That’s a fact. You just have to ask yourself if it’s worth it. Is what the two of you have together worth the sacrifice?” Her eyes narrowed on me, driving the message home.

  I knew she was right, and I knew it was worth it, but I was human and couldn’t help but want the unattainable. “I just wish I could trade in the roller coaster for a carousel. Able to anticipate what was around every corner, making the journey with less dramatic ups and downs.”

  “I get that,” India said, nodding her head, “but that’s not the hand you were dealt, baby. Jude was the hand you were dealt, and that man is no carousel, Lucy. That man is the super-duper-looper, Six Flags, knee-trembling roller coaster extraordinaire.” She sucked in a breath, out of it after that deposition.

  “I know,” I admitted, already feeling better.

  Jude was a roller coaster‌—‌I was a roller coaster. Together we created that super-duper-looper thing. It was scary, standing on the ground and looking up at it, but if that’s the ride I had to take to be with Jude, I’d be first in line.

  “Hey, thank your stars your man ain’t no kiddie bumper cars,” India added, taking another puff before blowing out a smoke ring. “I dated a man once who was like that. The man who is solely responsible for why I don’t date any more. He even made love like the damn kiddie cars. Bump. Sputter, sputter,” India sat up, jolting back and forth. “Bump. Sputter, sputter.” I started laughing, watching her acting out the scene. “Bump. Sputter, sputter. Bump. Fizzle.” Curling her nose, she groaned, collapsing back into the chair.

  Our laughter blended down the hall with Mr. Marley.

  “Great practice today Lucy,” Thomas said, coming up behind me as I walked out of the auditorium doors.

  “Well, it helps my partner is one hell of a dancer,” I said, nudging him as I wrapped my scarf around my neck.

  It was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving and the Ne
w York weather was already bringing it on. What had possessed a girl who believed sun was essential to life to go to school in a place where the winters ran frigid and long?

  My pointes bounced against my body as I walked, reminding me why.

  “Yeah, so, your boyfriend,” Thomas started, looking uneasy just speaking about Jude, “does he know we’re partners for the winter recital?”

  Poor Thomas. He was a dancer, not a fighter. I would be scared out of my tights too if I was supposed to be lifting by the crotch the girlfriend of a boy who packed a mean punch.

  “Not yet,” I said, throwing my cap on too. I would be living in a state of hat hair from now until May.

  Thomas cleared his throat, fidgeting with the strap of his backpack. “Are you planning on telling him?”

  “Of course,” I said, turning towards my dorm. I still had to finish one more assignment before the end of the day and the sooner I tucked myself into bed, the sooner Jude would be here in the morning to spend four whole days together. India was flying back home to her parents’ place outside of Miami, so we’d have the whole room to ourselves.

  I wasn’t planning on leaving it once. That’s what delivery was for.

  “When?”

  I shrugged. I hadn’t really given it much thought. “This weekend, I guess.”

  “Okay,” Thomas said. “I just want to be prepared. It’s probably for the best he knows sooner rather than later. Will make the shock a little less… extreme.”

  “You’ve thought this out,” I said, trying not to smile to give away my amusement. “Good for you.”

  “Yeah,” Thomas said, “if the dude almost beat my ass for helping you out of a corset, he will murder me on the spot when he sees our modern interpretation of the ‘Rape of Persephone’.”

  Thomas spelling it out for me moved telling Jude about our performance and the “encounters” Thomas and I would share on stage up to number one on the list. The more notice Jude had about it, the more time he could get used to the idea so he, as Thomas had put it, wouldn’t murder him on the spot.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll be all right,” I said, stopping outside of the dorm hall.

  “I’d say I’ll be anything but ‘all right’ after your boyfriend is done with me, but thanks for the vote of confidence.” Heading down the sidewalk, Thomas waved. “Have a nice break, Lucy.”

  I would.

  “You too,” I called after him, rushing into the building because I was twenty seconds away from breaking into a chatter fest.

  India was already gone by the time I made it back, but she’d left a gift behind. Lying on my bed was a black shopping bag, cascading with red and pink tissue paper. Not the first colors one thought of when they celebrated Thanksgiving.

  Tearing into the bag, I tossed the tissue paper behind me, peering inside. My mouth dropped as I pulled out the item on top. It was black, lacy, and had holes in places that were normally covered.

  “India,” I muttered, shaking my head. Tossing the lingerie off to the side, I grabbed the first thing in the bag my fingers fell on. Something cold and hard. I pulled out a pair of hardcore handcuffs, complete with key, dangling from my finger. Throwing them back in the bag like they’d stung me, I rolled the top of the bag over and stuffed it into the depths of our closet.

  I might be ready to take the next step with Jude, but I wasn’t ready to go from A to Z in the same night. I’d be regifting these gems at Christmas to the girl who’d so carefully selected them for her resident prude.

  I hurried through my last assignment and emailed it off to the professor by eight that night. Having a cup of hot tea and a microwave vegetarian burger for dinner, I turned off the lights and crawled into bed, hoping I’d fall into a deep sleep.

  After tossing and turning my sheets into a tornado three hours later, I realized sleep and I weren’t making things easy for one another. Giving up some time after midnight, I threw an old DVD into the player and watched two movies all the way through before I managed to nod off. My alarm was blaring less than two hours later.

  So much for the recuperative qualities of sleep.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I was on my third cup of coffee, and somewhere in between my second and third, I’d crossed the line from alert to jumpy. Oh well, edgy was better than comatose.

  The knowledge Jude would be arriving any time helped my outlook significantly. My parents had made reservations at some fancy place downtown, wanting to treat us to a nice meal for Thanksgiving. I’d insisted that we didn’t need anything fancy, but Mom said she’d just landed a big new account and things were looking up. No matter what I said, she hadn’t relented, so the four of us were eating at some swanky place in SoHo.

  Jude had already texted me asking what I was wearing and wondering if this was a tie required kind of joint. I’d replied telling him it was a whatever-he-showed-up-in kind of a joint because Jude always looked amazing. Tie or no tie.

  I’d selected something fancier, a cranberry colored vintage style dress, because I’d been living in jeans and sweaters and it felt good to dress up every now and then. Sliding into my Mary Jane’s, a knock sounded at the door.

  I practically danced across the room. Throwing the door open, I found Jude standing there, looking a bit uncomfortable in his tie and dress shirt, holding his hands behind his back. His discomfort melted when he took a good look at me.

  “You get more beautiful every time I see you,” he said, taking me in like he was trying to cement this moment in his memory.

  “Thank you,” I replied, taking a curtsy. “And you clean up rather nicely yourself.” I ran my fingers down his tie.

  “It’s Tony’s,” he said, guessing my thoughts.

  “Tony has ties?” It didn’t fit my picture of the charmer I knew.

  “He’s Catholic,” Jude said, watching my fingers slide down the tie. “And his mom calls him every Sunday to make sure he went to mass. So yeah, Tony’s got a shitload of ties.”

  “It looks nice on you,” I said, letting the charcoal tie fall back into place.

  “Tony had to help me tie it because I didn’t know what the hell I was doing,” he said, popping his neck from side to side like the thing was strangling him.

  “Do you have your bag?” I asked, not seeing one in view.

  Jude’s face fell. “What bag?”

  My face fell right along with his. “The bag you were supposed to pack to spend four whole days with me,” I said, wanting to pout. “That bag.”

  “Oh,” Jude said, his arm reaching for something, “you mean this bag?”

  Snatching it out of his hands, I tossed it onto the bed. There. Now we were set for the weekend.

  “And this is also for you,” he said, removing his other hand from his back. Another rose. A pink one this time. We were making progress; it still wasn’t the red rose of love, passion, and in my book, sex, but it was a step in the right direction from the white rose of purity he’d given to me last.

  He chuckled as I continued to study the rose. “It’s just a flower, Luce. Not the answer to all of life’s questions.”

  Taking it from him, I rested it on my pillow. “Everything means something. Whether we want to admit it to ourselves or not.”

  Walking into my room, he stared at my bed before looking back up at me. He gave me a stupid little smile as he grabbed my coat hanging over the swivel chair.

  “I suppose that’s true,” Jude admitted, holding my coat open for me, “if you’re a woman. But for us men, a rose is a rose. And unless we’re in love with a girl or hoping to get our brains screwed out of our ears, we don’t go out of our way to get them.”

  Stuffing my arms into my knee length wool coat, Jude slid my hair out from beneath the collar. His fingers just barely grazed my neck and it shot like a bolt through my body. Anticipation made his touch even more flammable.

  “So which of those man reasons reduced you to buying a rose for a girl?” Cinching the coat’s belt, I turned to face him.


  He had that same smile on his face. He lifted his brows. “Both.”

  My stomach flopped and dropped.

  “Come on,” he said, grabbing my hand and leading me out of the room. “We’ve got all weekend. Let’s make it to Thanksgiving lunch, brunch, whatever it is, before the clothes start flying.”

  Closing the door behind us, I blew out a breath. “If we have to.”

  Jude chuckled as we made our way down the hall. “Since your parents kind of flew across the country so they could have dinner with their precious daughter and her son of a bitch boyfriend at some yuppie restaurant, yeah, I’d say we have to.”

  “You make a lot of sense for a member of the male species,” I said as we made our way down the stairwell.

  Jude gave me a look that said obviously.

  My heels clanged down the stairwell, filling the space with the echo.

  “How in the hell do you girls walk in those things?” Jude said, studying the shoes with a wince.

  “We have special powers that enable us to do so.”

  Jude stopped on the stair below me. “Yeah, well, special powers or not”‌—‌scooping me into his arms, he heaved me against his chest‌—‌”I don’t want you breaking your neck on the stairs.”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck. “You’re going to carry me down four more sets of stairs?”

  “No,” he replied, his eyes flashing down at me. “I’m going to kiss you down four more sets of stairs.” Lowering his neck, I lifted mine, and when our mouths connected, I wasn’t sure how he was able to keep bouncing down the stairwell without collapsing, but I wouldn’t have been able to. Maybe that’s the real reason he’d decided to carry me.

  Stiff arming the exit door open, a New York surprise was waiting for us. Airy flakes of snow swirled from the sky, landing on our faces. Jude looked up, taking his lips with him. The sky was clouded, a grayish blue hue tinting them.

  “Looks like a storm’s heading our way,” he said, carrying me the rest of the way to his truck. “Good thing I’m prepared.” Kicking his new snow tires, he opened the door and dropped me inside.