Page 29 of Reckless

I hid that I was relieved they’re just good friends. Not that I am allowed to worry about things like who he is dating.

After the movie, we sit in companionable silence, drinking our beer. It’s nearing midnight. We should go to bed, but it’s peaceful out here. It is nice having company, even though the whole point of this trip is solitude. At one point, I think he is asleep because his head is tilted back, his eyes look closed. I should wake him. It will hurt if he stays sleeping like that.

Then he speaks and startles me.

“I’ve never seen so many stars.”

Looking up, I agree. Tonight is clear. The running lights from the RV are on, so we’re not sitting in complete darkness. The stars are bright. Jude seems enraptured. So many of the simple things most people take for granted really intrigue him.

Suddenly he gets up, putting the blanket on the chair and he hurries inside. Was it something I said? Or didn’t say?

Jude comes back a moment later, carrying his guitar. I watch in silence as he sits back down and sets the guitar on his lap, then he starts to play. At first, I’m not sure I recognize it, but after a few moments I realize it is a song off their first album. I’m too scared to open my mouth in case he stops. When he sings, I lean back and close my eyes to listen.

There are so many layers to Jude’s voice. I’ve heard nothing like it, but this soft crooning, a little gravelly, as though he’s hoarse, is mesmerizing. He sounds so soulful, and it brings tears to my eyes. If he notices, he doesn’t say.

I’m so caught up in my emotions, it’s embarrassing. I should go. I catch his eye as he finishes up the song, strumming a few more chords on the strings.

“It’s really beautiful out here,” he says, his eyes piercing into mine.

That sensation I got when we first laid eyes on one another outside my RV, comes flooding back. The pull. The intensity in his eyes. He is referring to where we are. I think. He has to be.

“The world is so much bigger than us.” He sets the guitar down and looks up at the sky again.

We can’t afford for things to get confusing. But he is so enamored with the sky, I get an idea. I stand up, carrying my blanket, and walk to the back of the RV, going out of his sight for a moment. I unclip the lower rung of the ladder at the back, and pull it down so that it’s easier to reach, then pop around the back of the RV.

“Come on,” I beckon.

With a crinkle of confusion on his brow, he sets down the guitar and walks around back with me. While he watches, I climb up the ladder and onto the roof. I walk to the center and spread out the blanket. His head appears over the ledge and then he hauls himself the rest of the way up.

For a moment, he looks all around us. A few of the RVs that were here when we arrived are still parked up. Some of them left during the day and others arrived.

They’re all quiet.

Sitting cross-legged, I lean my arms out behind me and look up at the sky. He joins me a moment later, not touching, but close enough that he could. He lays all the way down, resting one arm behind his head and the other sits on his abdomen.

“It’s not closer, but it’s uninterrupted.”

He nods. Without being able to see the other RVs around us, it feels like we’re the only ones here, lying directly under the stars.

“I get it,” he murmurs. “I don’t think I’ve ever just lay back and looked at the world around me. I’m always on the go, always having to do something. Or someone is always there wanting something from me. It could be as simple as a smile. But when you don’t have it in you to even do that…”

He trails off. His eyes are closed, so it’s safe to look at him. Study him.

His long eyelashes touch his cheekbones, the planes of his face highlighted by the light from the moon and the stars. His pulse is ticking in his throat. I can see it moving every few seconds, his heart beating slowly, steady.

He’s relaxing, and that settles something in me.

His eyes pop open and he catches me watching him. Thank God it’s dark, because warmth rushes to my cheeks. Our eyes hold for a long time, neither of us speaking. I’m not even sure I’m breathing.

Jude clears his throat. “You didn’t do much writing today,” he says, breaking the spell, bringing us back to the reality of each of our lives.

“No, but that’s okay. I don’t have any hard and fast deadlines to adhere to. Plus, what I wrote this morning has nothing to do with the book I’m supposed to be writing.”

“Isn’t that a bad thing?”

“Not really. It’s about being free to work how I want or need to while I’m out here. My muse took me in a different direction today. It may not turn into a full book, but it felt right.”

“Can I read it?”

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