Page 22 of Dirty Like Brody
Shit.My gaze swung back to Maggie; never saw that onecoming.
“Jude!” Katieexclaimed.
Sorry, Maggie mouthed at me, looking guilty for throwing me underthebus.
“It was a long time ago,” I explained, before the blushing bride got all excited about the prospect of Jesse’s best friend and I getting hitched and our babies playingtogether.
“I would so do Jude,”Beccasaid.
Katie rolled her eyes at her sister. “Um,marriedmuch?”
“If I wasn’t married,” she clarified. “Do you think he doescouples?”
“Oh, Jesus,” Katiegroaned. “TMI.”
“Whatever.” Devi shushed them. “I want to know what happened with JessaandJude.”
“Nothing happened,” I said. “From what I gathered, I wasn’thistype.”
Roni rolled her eyes. “Again.Everyone’stype.”
“What’s his type?” Beccaasked.
“Well… back then, he was fourteen years old and as far as I could tell, his type was voluptuous sixteen-year-olds. I was ten. I definitely never caught his eye.” I shrugged. “That was such a long time ago… I almost forgotaboutit.”
That was true, moreorless.
And while Roni proceeded to regale the girls with detailed accounts of the other famous guys she’d had sex with—there were several of them, apparently—I zoned out, recalling exactly what it was that made me forget my crush on Jude. I could remember the day, the very moment Jude wasforgotten.
The moment Brody came back intomylife.
I was half-in and half-out of my new bra. It was my first bra, which my brother had discovered I needed after the first day of fifth grade, when Zane walked me home from school and bluntly announced, in typical Zane fashion, “You’d better get your sister’s tits under wrap or you’re gonna have a world of problems on your handsthisyear.”
Hence a particularly embarrassing shopping trip with my fourteen-year-old brother to get myfirstbra.
I was trying to put it on, attempting to untangle the straps and figure out how I was supposed to do it up behind my back—or was I supposed to do it up, then spin it around?—when someone walked into my bedroom. I looked up, and there wasBrody.
I was ten years old, so it’s not like what I was trying to put in my new bra was all that impressive, but still. Naked boobs were kinda hard to miss, especially if you were a teenage boy. Which was maybe why he was staringatme.
I hadn’t seen him since that day on the playground two years before. I never really expected to see him again. To my imaginative young mind, Brody Mason was an entity as magical and illusive as a unicorn, a fire-breathing dragon, or EddieVedder.
But therehewas.
Inmyroom.
“You’re supposed to knock!” I cried, covering myself with myskinnyarms.
“Why would I knock on the bathroom door when it’s open?” he said, belatedly covering his eyes withhishand.
“Because it’s not thebathroom!”
“I see that, princess. Maybe close the door next time you decide to getnaked.”
Princess?
Herememberedme?!
“I’m not naked!” I shouted. “And you’re supposed to knock on a bedroom door! Even ifit’sopen!”
