“Make me understand, then,” Corbin said, uncharacteristically genuine. “This sweet, albeit kinda weird new student shows up, the two of you become attached at the hip, you hook up regularly, hestays at your house, you have me commit felonies for him, but now that he is romantically interested in you, you want to bail? Is this about your ex? Did he leave you with trust issues? Because, babe, you can’t let one asshole color your whole life, or else you’ll never let anybody in again and you’ll grow old and gross all by your lonesome and it’ll suck.”
“It’s not that simple,” Jude said, eyes trained on the table. He picked up a pink sugar packet and began fiddling with it.
“Why not? Do you seriously not have feelings for the guy? Like, honest-to-god?”
The question gave Jude pause. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes.
He still hadn’t dared to look into the depths of his feelings for Al, but the fact that he was about to cry gave him a pretty good idea of how deep they really went.
“I don’t know,” he heard himself say before he could consciously decide to say it, like his mouth was running on autopilot, not willing to break free of its preprogrammed dialogue to speak the truth. “It really is more complicated than that. He’s not from here. He has to go home eventually, felonies notwithstanding. Plus he, er, he wants different things than me. Like a family. He wants a family sooner rather than later, and his feelings for me are really intense, and I just—I don’t know, Corbin, I don’t know if I can give him what he needs from me.”
Corbin reached out and put a hand on Jude’s.
“Shouldn’t you figure that out first?Beforeyou blow the whole thing up?”
Jude considered his argument/miscommunication/breakup with Al, and how heartbroken Al had been. The guy had never experienced crying before meeting Jude. How could Jude face him after inadvertently teaching him the meaning of tears?
“I may have already blown it all up,” he admitted quietly, a lump in his throat. Corbin smiled only a little condescendingly, which for Corbin was very kind.
“Not if he loves you,” he said with certainty. “Love is patient, and it’s built like a bomb shelter.” Corbin scrunched his nose as if he, himself, couldn’t believe those words had come out of his mouth. “Or at least, that’s what I’ve heard people say.”
* * *
Corbin’s words bounced around in Jude’s head as he drove his shitty little Impala home. Could it really be that simple? It had all seemed so straightforward when Corbin had said it, and yet…
“He’s leaving,” Jude reminded himself, speaking aloud in his empty car as he turned onto his street. “How you feel is irrelevant to the conversation because hedoesn’t belong here.”
But even as he said it, it didn’t feel true.
Jude parked the car along the curb and glumly grabbed his backpack. He didn’t bother to lock his car doors because three of the four locks were broken, and the one thatdidlock was already permanently stuck that way. Pathetic.
Pausing on the sidewalk, he took a moment to really look at his car.
The silver paint was chipped and rusted all over. The front bumper was being held on by zip ties and electrical tape. There was a stain on the asphalt from all the times his car had leaked onto it—Jude had once asked a mechanic which fluids they were, and the reply had been “all of them.” That same mechanic had also told him to “get into biking” when he’d asked what he could do about the state of his vehicle.
It was a fucking death trap, yet it was also the best Jude could afford. He was a broke loser getting a fucking fine arts degree, of all things, and Al thought he could somehow be a successful family man? An equal partner who could help provide? Sure, if they wanted to eat mediocre paintings for dinner every night. And afather? Any kid raised by Jude might as well have a therapy fund started at birth instead of a college fund.
He was useless, and it was a shame that Al thought otherwise.
“Hey, bud, you okay? Why are you standing out here staring blankly at your piece-of-shit car? It’s kind of creepy.”
Ezra’s voice startled Jude. He spun around and found his friend watching him from the front porch with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. Jude had been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even heard the front door open. Or maybe Ezra had been there the whole time.
“’M’fine,” Jude grumbled, not sounding convincing in the least, but unable to do anything about it. Something nameless in his chest felt hollow and sad, and it was bumming him the fuck out. What he wanted was to go back in time to two days ago, before he’d known about the pregnancy and the bond and all of it. Life had been easier then, and he had been happy.
Now things were all fucked up, and he was miserable and confused.
“You don’t seem fine,” Ezra said casually as Jude made his way up the pathway to the house.
“Astute observation,” Jude muttered, walking up the stairs. “It’s nothing, I just had a long day is all.”
“Yeah? You been, uh, feeling all right? Physically, I mean. Have you had enough water today?”
Jude paused mid-step to frown at him. “Have I had enough water?”
“Uh-huh. And like, well-balanced meals and stuff. Those things are important. You know, for your health.”
Jude squinted at Ezra. He didn’t seem to be putting him on, but the man had also never once in his life asked Jude about his water intake. “Are you smoking a new strain of weed or something? Because if so, don’t. It’s making you weird.”
