Page 25 of Gay for Pray
“Theo,” I try again.
“I have to go,” he says.
And then he’s gone.
Chapter Fourteen
Theodore
THE SECOND I MAKE it back to my dorm, my roommate pokes his head out of his room. His cocked eyebrow holds enough judgment to have me shrinking into my shoulders.
“Where have you been?” he says.
Our room is set up like Jude and Nick’s, with two bedrooms attached to a small communal living space. We’re in a different tower a five-minute walk from Jude and Nick’s. I almost looped around the building and stretched out the walk to avoid going home, and perhaps if I didn’t feel like crap I would have, but the second I started moving, I knew I needed to get myself to my own bed as quickly as possible. It’s not only my body that’s messed up. My head is buzzing after what I did in Jude’s room.
What I did.
Because it was me who went in for that kiss.
Jude certainly responded, but that kiss never would have happened if I hadn’t initiated it, and that is a truly dizzying thought. I’ve never kissed anyone in my entire life, and now I’ve kissed a guy I should hate. Yet how could I hate Jude after all this? He scooped me out of that party last night and has done nothing but take care of me since. He didn’t have to treat me so kindly, yet he went out of his way to get me through whatever happened to me last night. As embarrassing as this whole ordeal has been, I’m sure it would have turned out even worse if it weren’t for Jude sweeping in to save me.
Maybe it’s the lingering effects of whatever that jerk at the party gave me. Jude said it made me crave touch. Maybe that’s what propelled me toward his lips. That’s what I tried telling myself for the entire five-minute walk over here, but no matter how many times I repeat it, a piece of my brain whispers that I would have kissed him anyway. That image of Jude as a literal angel hovering over me lingers in my mind even now. He looked no less handsome in the morning; he felt no less like an angel delivering mercy I haven’t earned.
“I was out,” I finally answer.
Aaron narrows his eyes at me. “Out? You missed Mass.”
He’s part of the liturgical choir as well, which I used to count as a point in my assigned roommate’s favor. Right now, it feels more like a cudgel he’ll use to beat me over the head.
“I was sick,” I say. “A…friend had to take care of me.”
“Sick? Are you still sick? Is it contagious?” He reels away, sinking into his room.
“No, I’m fine. Just tired.”
Aaron seems to accept this. “Well, you should have emailed the director. He’s super pissed. I mean, when those two flunkies—what are their names? Jude and Nick? When they didn’t show up, no one was really surprised, but you’re supposed to be better than people like that. Everyone was wondering where you were. We even talked about the concert coming up. Have you heard about it?”
For some reason, it rankles to hear him talk about Jude this way. Twenty-four hours ago, I would have agreed with him, but now, I kind of want to march over there and punch him in the face for talking about Jude like he’s some loser flunky. What does he know about Jude? He has no idea how hard Jude works for his scholarship or how kind he is or how he’d help even someone like me if he saw them struggling. I clench my hands, but in the end, I let the remark pass, too much of a coward tospeak up even after all Jude did for me.
“I’ll handle it,” I mumble, ignoring the bit about the concert and getting to my room as quickly as I can.
I never do bother emailing the director to explain my absence. I go right for my bed, exhausted despite how soundly I slept in Jude’s arms last night. I wrap myself up in my sheets and drift off immediately, but even with every blanket and sheet nestled around me, my bed feels oddly cold without Jude in it with me.
I DREAD CLASS THE next day. Monday is a philosophy day, which means it’s a Jude day. After tossing and turning all night reliving that kiss, I have no idea what I’ll encounter when I head into class and face him again.
My heart is in my throat as I enter the classroom, but Jude smiles when I catch his eyes. That heartbeat in my throat threatens to strangle me. It’s way too easy to remember the feel of those lips when that smile is pointed at me in particular, yet I manage to give him a minute nod and slink to my seat.
All throughout class, I swear I can feel his eyes on my back, but I don’t turn or acknowledge him. I do everything I can to focus on Professor Demsky’s lecture, but the words slip past me like sand between my fingers. My notes are a jumble of nonsense. I’m going to have to go back and redo the readings at this rate, but there’s simply nothing that’s going to settle my brain today.
Maybe it’s that crap that guy put in my drink. Can something like that keep affecting you this long? Jude seemed to think there would be some kind of hangover. Does this count? I haven’t had so much as a glass of wine in my entire life, let alone real drugs. I have no idea what to expect from this. Did it do permanent damage? Will I ever feel normal again? Is what I’m thinking andfeeling even real, or is it the drug? I wish I could trust myself. I wish I knew what was real and what was in my head. Everything is so confusing, like a million-piece puzzle I can’t possibly hope to solve.
By the time class ends, all I want to do is run back to my room and hide. I don’t have another class until later, and usually I use the few hours in between to do some homework at the library and grab food, but today my steps are aimless. I walk almost accidentally toward the church, perhaps hoping I’ll find some kind of salvation along the way.
Instead, I find Jude.
He jogs to catch up to me, then falls into step beside me on the path through campus. For a moment, I startle, sure someone will think the two of us walking together is strange, but why would they? There are so many students on this campus that any random pair walking along is anonymous to most of the people we pass.
“How are you feeling today?” Jude says as we walk.
