Page 62 of Requiem
The floor is cold beneath my feet as I move toward the door, pulling it open carefully before creeping downstairs. The doors to the basement bedrooms are closed, Nico and Kieran sleeping soundly behind them. I let my gaze drift toward the monitors, and there he is. Jude is lying on the bed, tangled in the sheets, his chest rising and falling. He’s sleeping, thankfully.
I lower myself onto the couch without making a sound, settling into the cushions as my eyes remain locked on the screen, studying every detail. There’s something about watching him sleep that brings me so much comfort. I used to love looking at his calm, sleeping face. I’d stare at him sometimes, just enjoying his warmth, listening to his breathing.
At least he’s not struggling as much as before. The Suboxone must have eased some of that pain. I watch him for a few more seconds, letting myself exist in the dark, letting myselfseehim without the immediate urge to react. But in that quiet, fragile moment, my mind drifts.
~ A memory ~
I’m back in sunlight, where the air smells like cut grass and a warm summer evening. Jude is sitting beneath the old tree in my parents’ front yard, the one with the huge, wide roots that break through the ground. His guitar rests against his thigh as he laughs. His head tips back when he hits a wrong chord on purpose, just to make me flinch, and when I throw a pinecone at him, he catches it midair without even looking. He knows me so well, the jerk.
“Come on. Try harder,” he says, still laughing. “It’s not that many chords. I’ll show you again.”
“Ididtry,” I argue, dropping down beside him in the grass. “I’ll launch a rock at you next time you laugh at me.”
“You’re just bad at it.”
“I’mnotbad at music,” I say, reaching for the guitar like I’m going to take it from him. “You’re just obsessed with showing off.”
That makes him grin wider. That boyish, devastating grin that always feels like it was meant for me alone. “It's okay, baby. We're meant to create in different ways.” He leans into me a little, shoulder bumping mine, and for a moment, the world feels small in the best way. Like nothing exists outside this patch of green and him, and the way my heart keeps tripping over itself whenever he looks at me like that. Some say that first loves never make it. But they’ve never met us. They don’t know that I’d do anything for him.
I love him with everything I have.
He starts strumming again, softer this time. “You’re staring like a creep,” he says without looking up.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m appreciating the view. Sue me.”
That finally makes him look at me. And there it is again...that softness he never lets anyone else see. Before I can think better of it, I reach for him.
“Emma—” he starts, but I’m already pulling him closer.
He lets the guitar tilt away, forgotten in the grass. His hands find my waist immediately, joy bursting through me. The tree is behind me when he spins me, guiding me back without breaking eye contact. My shoulders press against the rough bark as I scoot all the way against it. My fingers pull at the grass when he crawls forward, opening my legs.
“Is this a bad idea?” I ask, even though I don’t move away.
His breath brushes my mouth when he answers in a breathless whisper. “Probably.”
But he doesn’t stop. His kiss is warm and soft at first, filled with appreciation and love, before deepening. But when I wiggle beneath him, I feel his arm muscles tense. My fingers curl instinctively into his shirt, pulling him closer as if there’s any closer left to go. His arms brace on either side of me, keeping me caged between him and the tree.
Within moments, his hands are at my waist, yanking me down so my back is now flat on the grass, and he’s towering over me. In an eager movement, he reaches between us to shove my dress up my thighs.
“H—here?” I ask, mouth parted against his as we breathe each other in.
He answers by kissing me again, sinking two fingers inside me. I arch off the ground at the immediate stretch, gasping against his lips. I’m absolutely feral for him. Ready to drown entirely. Happy to. Other than Heather, Jude is my best friend. He sees me differently, always offering love and support for anything in my life that seems remotely stressful.
He’s the calm sea inside the eye of a hurricane. The soft breeze that brings relief to a scorching sun.
He’s...everything.
He groans as he pumps his fingers deeper, my gaze darting around to ensure that our fence is indeed too tall for our neighbors to see. Part of me doesn’t even care, though. I’m in love.
I fumble with his belt buckle, losing myself in his scent, his breathy groans, and his warmth. Everything feels suspended and perfect. But that’s when I hear the particular sound of my mom’s car.
My eyes snap open. “No,” I breathe against his mouth, already laughing a little because I know exactly what’s coming.
He groans like he knows it too.
