Page 52 of Someday Not Soon

Of course he was. Every man loves the word ‘cum.’

Delaney

True. But I think he loves more than that.

It’s one in the morning, and I’m so wide awake that I’ve heard a whole orchestra of crickets conduct a new song outside my window. Sleep seems futile at this point. Rolling over, I tap the screen of my phone and look at the hour for the thousandth time.

Earlier today, Jude had told me that if I needed to come back to his house I was more than welcome. The offer has been sitting there, tempting me like an open invitation. Would I rather be at his house with him, than at my dead parents’ empty home? Of course.

I can’t let myself become dependent on him though. He’s not always going to be there to swoop in and save me, so I shouldn’t get used to it now.

However, when 7:00 a.m. rolls around, and I still haven’t slept more than three hours, I’m delirious enough to say fuck it and give up.

The sun has barely risen, but this house has become more and more unbearable to be in. After spending the past two days with him, it’s harder to be alone now. It feels like a black hole of sadness is creeping closer whenever I’m left by myself.

Madi’s on her honeymoon, Delaney and Cole are buried in their work, and today is Jude’s day off. It makes perfect sense to go see him. No pressure, only friends—nothing more.

As I pull into his driveway, a wave of nerves hits me. I turn down the music, taking a deep breath. It’s normal to pop over and see your friends. To want to see them so badly that you drive to their house the moment the sun is up.

I hate that I’m trying to convince myself of that when it feels like anything butfriendship. Our ten years of unresolved feelings is more like a hornets’ nest we’ve been poking with a stick, waiting to see what happens.

Before knocking, I shoot him a quick text so it’s not acomplete surprise. It’s not much of a heads-up, but it’s something. After a few minutes of waiting, I step out of the car, walk up the cement pathway to his house, and knock on the pristine front door.

There’s no answer. No rustling around or the echoes of footsteps inside. Nothing.

I didn’t even consider the possibility that he may have had someone else staying the night. They could still be in bed—which makes me feel a tad murderous, but I’m attempting to ignore that hot rage in my belly.

Instead, I’m second guessing his offer, chalking it up to politeness and nothing more. I’m about to turn right back around, with my tail between my legs, and pretend this never happened. He’ll never even know I showed up here on his front door step. Unless he sees the notification from the camera he has mounted above his front porch light.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I’m never listening to my sleep-deprived brain again. This was a stupid idea from the start. If I don’t want to be lonely, I should just go adopt one of the dozens of rescue animals Delaney’s always trying to convince me to take in. At least a dog wouldn’t make me feel this crazy.

Suddenly, through an open window, I hear the unmistakable sound of someone getting sick. My stomach churns right along with it. If it were anyone else, I’d already be sprinting back to my car. But something keeps me rooted to the spot—this instinct to want to protect and take care of him.

As I’m trying to decide the best course of action, my phone chimes with an incoming message.

Jude

Currently stuck sick on the bathroom floor. Not contagious.

Jude

The backdoor should be unlocked if you want to brave it and come in. I also won’t be offended if you’d rather not listen to me puke like I did on my twenty-first birthday too.

A bittersweet knot forms in my stomach, a strange blend of relief of there not being overnight guests, and a nagging worry over him being sick. The weathered boards of the front porch creak as I walk to the backdoor and try the knob.

When I enter the house, it’s like my body relaxes, knowing this place is safe, that this place feels more like any other home I’ve ever had.

I hear another wave of vomit echoing in the bathroom, and I follow the sound down the hall, past the built-in bookshelves, and under the cased opening doorways.

I’m not sure if he even wants me to see him like this, but I’ll take my chances. He would jump in and take care of me without a second thought, and I want to do the same for him. Though he’s a doctor and far more skilled at situations like this, I still can’t stand by while he suffers.

The bathroom door is closed, I knock gently.

“Hello?” I whisper.

“In here,” he groans, the sound echoing off the porcelain. “You can come in if you want.”

---