Page 148 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet
I should focus on practical matters, like what we did wrong last night, but I table them as I follow him up the stairs because all I can think isI’m about to see Jude’s home.
Anticipation thrums through me.
Have his tastes changed since I lived with him?
When he unlocks the white door on the second floor and pushes it open, I feel a little like I’ve gained entrance to a secretland. His apartment is bursting with color. An emerald-green couch commands the center of the small living room. Soft yellow pillows line the cushions.
The Jude I knew way back when would have wanted this place for Jude today, and everything feels right in the universe. A bay window invites sunshine. Plants by the window drink up the morning rays. A silvery, mirrored armoire hugs the living room wall. A few dozen books line the top of it in a makeshift bookshelf.
I walk over to them, transfixed. His copy ofMurder on the Orient Expresshas earned a spot here, along with more Agatha Christies and some Raymond Chandlers. Did I influence his taste? I’m tempted to comment on his penchant for mysteries, but I don’t want him to bring me back to reality by saying I had nothing to do with it. I’ll just take private credit for this reading addiction. The mysteries sit next to a few books in the Hidden Gems travel series—one for New York, Paris, and Amsterdam.
I slip back in time to the deck of his Airbnb—when Jude heard me talking to Mason about a book expo in Amsterdam, then asked if I was going. I’d wanted to invite him to join me. Hell, I’d planned on it.
Does he have this book because he visited the Dutch city in the last year? Did he stop there with William on the rocker’s recent European tour? The book looks newish, but it isn’t well-worn, giving me no indication if he went to Amsterdam with him.
Both the curious parts of me and the jealous ones are dying to ask if they went to Amsterdam together, but I’m not sure I can handle any possible answer, so I tap the New York book. “Have you checked out the hidden gems in New York yet?”
Jude shakes his head, his expression a little sheepish. “It’s been crazy since I moved here. I’ve been so busy. A little bit of work travel, since I was in London doing a play, then movie stuff,and now the TV show...” He stops and chuckles at himself. “Whoa. I kind of sound like I think I’m the shit.”
I smile. “Nah. You deserve it, Jude. All the success. Also, I did kind of predict it,” I say, proud of his accomplishments. He’s been striving for so long, wanting and then wanting more. Trying hard and then harder. He deserves all the good things.
“You did predict it, and I’m grateful,” he says, with a touch of wistfulness in his tone that almost makes me think we’re both missing what we were to each other—we were supportive. We were encouraging. “Speaking of, why the hell do people saythe shitwhen something is good?”
“I’m pretty sure that comes from drugs, like this is the good shit.”
“Again, why do people say that?”
I laugh. “That’s the English language for you. We turn bad words into good words.This song is sick;this movie is dope; he plays a mean pinball.”
“I do. I am the sickest at pinball.” He grimaces. “Nope. Can’t do it. Can’t say it. Anyway, New York is great. I’d love to see more of it someday. That’s why I got that book.”
“I could...” I don’t finish. I don’t want to offer to show him around since I can’t handle hisno, so I return my gaze to his collection. But it ends on the travel books. I’m disappointed and realize I’d been hoping he’d have his copy ofThe Importance of Being Earneston display.
The one with the two men in top hats.
But I should stop wanting things with Jude, like Amsterdam, wordplay, and inside jokes and doing stuff with him, like seeing his place and showing him around New York and encouraging his hopes and dreams.
Really, I should stop craving the possibilities. I turn around. “Nice place. Very you.”
Jude’s smile is soft.“Thanks. I’ll be shooting here for a few months, so I tried to give it a personal touch. But it’s just a rental,” he says, like he has to explain his pad, even though his place is great. “Yours probably feels more like home.”
There’s a note of curiosity in his voice, almost like he’s wondering what my apartment looks like. Wishful thinking on my part, but I can’t shake the feeling. Or the hope.
“I bought my apartment last year whenTop-Notch Boyfriendcame out. That was probably foolish, considering...” I don’t want to linger on that book with him for so many reasons. I pluck at my sushi shirt. “Slade might get pissed if we take too long.”
“Right, right,” Jude says, snapping his attention back to the moment. Maybe he was lost in unfulfilled wishes too. He wiggles his fingers at my black shirt. The tea stain’s not visible, but it is wet.
“You want me to take it off?” I ask, hoping he has ulterior motives, but that’s wishful thinking.
Foolish thinking too.
“Generally, clothes dry better that way,” he says, then he whispers, “Not to brag but I have a washer/dryer. And it isthe absolute shit.”
My jaw comes unhinged. “I stand corrected. You are definitely the luckiest guy in the world.”
With a radiant smile, he blows on his fingernails. “I know.”
“That’s hotter than having your own parking spot,” I say.