Page 49 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet
As Alex walks away, I spin toward the window and catch the outline of my reflection. Is it obvious I’m thinking about a friend?
I peer close into the rain-streaked glass.
It’s painfully obvious.
That evening, I skip The Cat’s Meow. Instead, I hunker down in Coffee O’Clock, trying to send my hero to the creepy church to investigate a clue, but he’s delayed in the park.
By his love interest.
Our hero’s been longing for this person for ages. He can feel it in his bones. My fingers tingle as I type, and something feels so right. Righter than it ever has before. When I reread the scene, my heart races. Yup. My book was missing a romantic subplot.
Like that, I write more. I pour all my rainy daydreams into the story, and suddenly, this whodunit sparks in a whole new way.
Finally, I feel a little obsessed with this story, and I half want to tell someone. But William’s not here, and is he truly the one I want to share this realization with?
Later, when I return home, Jude’s not there.
That’s probably for the best. His absence saving me from sharing more than I should.
When I leave work on Thursday, I’m jittery. I haven’t seen Jude since Sunday night, but I’m meeting him this evening to go to The Vaults.
I could go straight to the tunnels, but they’re close to our flat, and I wouldn’t mind changing into something more casual, so I head home and take a quick shower to wash the day off me. But the showerhead is loose again, so when I get out, I wrap a towel around my waist and head for the kitchen to grab the toolkit.
The door swings open.
“I got the part!” Jude calls out.
With my hair wet, water droplets sliding down my chest, and tools in hand, I turn around. “Holy shit! That’s amazing. I knew it!”
With his back to me, he shuts the door, then spins around. Like a cartoon character, his eyes pop out on springs. “Oh, fuck me.” He holds up a hand. “I have to back away right now. If I don’t, I will literally climb you like a tree.”
Then, as fast as he comes in, he leaves. His footfalls on the stairs echo as I return to the bathroom and fix the showerhead.
With a smile I can’t wipe off, I head to my room and get dressed. When I’m in jeans and the baseball-print shirt, I text him at last.
TJ:The coast is clear.
Jude:I have not recovered. I am dead again from the sight of you in NOTHING BUT A FUCKING TOWEL AND A TOOLKIT. DO NOT EVER DO THAT TO ME AGAIN. (UNLESS YOU WANT ME TO HUMP YOUR RIGHT LEG, YOUR LEFT LEG, AND YOUR THIRD LEG.) IF I SEE YOU LIKE THAT, I WILL HAVE A HEART ATTACK BUT IT WILL BE A WONDERFUL DEATH.
TJ:Sorry, not sorry.
Jude:I am at Angie’s Vintage Duds. I had to go shopping to try to get the sight of you, wet, out of my head. And I mean my little head.
I laugh again, and I wish I weren’t so fucking amused and delighted by him. I wish I weren’t so attracted to him. I wish I weren’t so close to wildly infatuated with him.
But I am.
I am all of those things.
When I push open the door to Angie’s, Jude is chatting with Eggplant Helen.
“I could have sworn she was still with him,” he tells her. “Well, it just goes to show you can’t believe everything you read in the tabloids.”
She laughs. “You can’t, but it sure is fun to devour every little detail about the royal family.”
“Completely,” he says.
Helen grins like a cat as she points from Jude to me. “So, you two found each other.” She sounds as pleased as a cat too.