“JudeOrder?” He grimaced. “That’swhat you think my name is?”
I shrugged. “Well, Jude Law is already taken.” He rolled his eyes at the joke as I clasped my hands together. “Just tell me, please.”
Something indescribable flashed across his face—like he was debating how much he trusted me and whether or not he would lie.
“Greear,” he said plainly.
Huh. It fit.
Jude Greear.I could imagine his parents poring over first name options that sounded good with their surname. It had a timeless sort of ring to it. Like at one point, he had been a little boy, then a teenager, then a young man, and what he was now. It fit all of them.
Not like when people choose old-fashioned names for children and then they have toddlers named Bernard and Walter. Or modern names, giving the rest of humanity doctors and CEOs with names like Thunder or Radish.
“I’m not sure if you’re actually telling me the truth, but I like it.”
He actually looked amused. Jude tipped his head in acceptance. “Thank you for your approval of a name that I had no part in choosing.”
“It’s better than my name,” I grumbled. “When I was little, kids would call me Amelia Bedelia. I hated it.”
“I like your name,” Jude said.
I chewed on my lip. “Joel calls me Mia. But . . . I guess you know that.”
For a split second, Jude looked apologetic. Regretful. “Yeah.” He cracked a smile. “But I think Dr. Hawthorne fits you much better.” A blush crept across my cheeks, and the corner of his mouth pulled up. “Even though you don’t make your students call you that.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me . . .”
“I snuck into one of your classes,” he admitted. “I followed you home after. Cased your apartment.” His eyes twinkled. “And then I snuck into another class just because I liked listening to you teach. And I hate math almost as much as I hate running.”
I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my mouth. “You’re joking.”
Jude raised his hands, chuckling to himself. “I swear I’m not.”
“Is thereanythingyou don’t know about me?” I groaned. “You know my underwear size, you’ve been in my apartment.” I paused in the spot where I had begun to pace and pinned him with a hard stare. “Oh my god! You went in my underwear drawer, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Jude said without a hint of remorse. “Do you know how many people keep their firearms in their underwear drawer? Way too many. People are reckless.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Do I look like I own a gun?”
“Do I?” he countered.
“Yes,” I said.
Jude sank a little deeper into the couch. “Well, there’s your life lesson on not judging people by the way they look.”
He had me there . . .
“There is one thing I couldn’t figure out,” Jude said.
I let out a chuff of victory. “Then I’m not telling you.”
“You don’t date.” It was a statement and a question all in one.
I shrugged. “So? Fewer loose ends for you to tie up.”
“I did a deep dive on everyone in your circle. Jake does actually want to fuck you, by the way. I hacked into his phone. The porn he watches? All the women look like you. He’s really into the stern teacher kink.” Jude didn’t say it judgmentally. He was simply stating facts the same way he would rattle off the make and model of Jake’s car.
I groaned. “Stop it. We’re just friends.”
