My eyes are burning, so I squeeze them shut. There’s no way I’ll let myself tear up, not when I’m going to have to leave this room and walk through the party to get home.
A noise at the door distracts me, and R stiffens, too, as the door handle twists up and down. There are a few voices outside — both female and male.
I wait for them to leave. They won’t be able to get in, not when we locked the door behind us.
“Just wiggle it a bit,” a girl says. “This lock doesn’t work. It just gets jammed.”
That’s all the warning I have before the door swings open. I freeze like a deer on the road. Then the light turns on, casting the room in bright light, illuminating me in nothing but my boxer briefs.
And beside me, touching my hand, equally undressed, hair messy and lips kiss-swollen, is Aaron Wynn.
16
Jude: Please Don't Go
For a moment, my brain doesn’t comprehend what I’m seeing. A part of me considers that I might be having a very intense lucid dream.
My mouth hangs open, and I flinch away from Aaron’s touch. He looks sad. Sad and sorry and as wretched as he did when we talked downstairs.
“What the fuck.” A girl’s voice rings out.
I whip my head around. It’s Mimi, who’s now donned a pink and gold birthday girl sash. Standing beside her is Lily, eyes wide, and Ethan, whose hand around Mimi has gone as slack as his jaw.
“Aaron?” Ethan says.
I need to get the hell out of here. I push myself off the bed and pull my clothes on as fast as possible while everyone watches in silence. I expect Aaron’s friends to block my exit and ask what the hell is going on, but they let me shove past them without a word or any resistance.
I manage to make it downstairs and out the front door before the gravity of everything catches up with me, and I sink down on the garden path while sucking in deep breaths. There are a few people out here, but they’re all vaping about ten metres away, so I’m isolated enough to freak out in private.
My mind races, zipping from one thing to another. Breakup. Aaron. Getting caught. Aaron. Half naked. Aaron. Aaron, Aaron, Aaron.
A voice calls my name, and I stand up on shaky legs and slowly but steadily walk out the front garden. I start down the street, in the direction I think leads to my house when Aaron catches up with me.
“Wait up,” he says, panting from running. He’s dressed but not wearing shoes, his bare feet pale against the dark grey concrete. “We need to talk.” He reaches for me and I step back.
“Listen,” he says, and though it’s nighttime, his face is illuminated by silvery moonlight. He looks desperate and urgent, like I must’ve when I begged him to stay and not to end things.
“You knew,” I say flatly.
He stares at me.
“You knew it was me. When the lights turned on, you weren’t surprised at all. You knew I was F. How long?”
His shoulders sag. “Since the start of this term. You…you left behind your battery pen.”
The one he’d returned to me in maths. “Right. Makes sense. You started distancing yourself immediately after that. Bet you couldn’t stand the fact that you’d been making out me, huh?”
“It’s not like that, Jude.”
I ignore him. “And then you ended things tonight. You had to get rid of me ASAP, didn’t you? Couldn’t stand the fact that you’d been kissing Jude Seymour.”
“No,” he says. “No, that’s not —”
“You lied to me,” I interrupt. “You knew who I was and you let me think everything was fine, but really you knew and played me for a fool.”
“That’s not it at all. I wanted to protect you.”
“Protect me?” I repeat incredulously.
