Page 20 of Someone Just Like You

The real reason I was so obscenely well behaved growing up, at least as far as my parents were concerned, was none of Jude’s business.

Unlike me, a seven-year-old Jude hadn’t overheard his mom complain that parenting three girls was overwhelming. Jude’s father hadn’t shouted about the cost of raising him and his siblings only a few days before packing up his things and moving out.Minehad.

After Dad moved back in, I silently assumed responsibility for keeping him there. One of us had to. Michelle, the rebellious one, had just gotten caught shoplifting. Nicole, the needy one, suffered from bad dreams and had taken to crawling into their bed every night. Which left me to be the peacemaker—the perfect little girl who morphed into a well-behaved teenager. As long as I colored inside the lines, there would be no unpleasant surprises. Little had changed since I’d entered adulthood.

That said, the call of boys and drinking was too loud to resist completely. But it was only on rare occasions I did anything to potentially get on my parents’ radar. The night I snuck home drunk after Sanjeev’s party, Michelle met me at the front door and laughed her ass off when I hoofed it straight to the downstairs half bathroom to puke again. She was living at home temporarily after graduating college, and I gave her my Tory Burch sunglasses in exchange for not telling our parents. She later confessed she’d had no intention of ratting me out, but who was she to refuse a bribe? I ended up getting grounded anyway when the video Jude took came out.

Back in the present, I poured us each a glass of water and returned to the couch with Jude and Yogi at my heels. Yogi made himself comfortable on a butterfly-patterned throw pillow.

“Are you okay with this? Yogi and white couches don’t mix. Kind of like…” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “You and me.”

I didn’t comment on the comparison. “It’s fine. I invited him. And contrary to your assumption, I don’t treat my apartment like a museum, which means Yogi can sit wherever he wants.” I scratched behind his ears, and he wagged his tail in pleasure.

“I’m sure you were thrilled when my parents got wind of the video you made,” I said. “I’m surprised you didn’t use your firsthand knowledge of my less angelic moments against me more often. Not only to take pleasure in my punishment, but to get Randy and Laura off your back.”

“The video was only meant to embarrass you in front of our friends. I had no idea they’d call your parents about it. I might have hated your ‘I’m so perfect and pristine’ act, but I was no narc.” He gave me a pointed look.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same. I dropped my gaze.

Jude sat. “While we’re on the subject, I know you think I only ran for student council to watch you lose.”

I focused my attention on his fingers, drumming along his thighs to an imaginary beat. “You won, didn’t you?”

“I did. But despite my gloating, my decision to run had nothing to do with wanting to beat you.”

I lifted my head. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I can’t say I didn’t enjoy the victory.” He smirked. “But the reason I ran was to beef up my college applications. Ms. Rogers warned my parents at the parent-teacher conference that baseball alone might not be enough to make up for my average-at-best GPA. Student politics sounded fun, especially when Haley agreed to be my running mate.”

I’d forgotten Haley and Jude had dated. Haley and I were in most of the same classes, had the same GPA by less than a percentage point, and she graduated twenty-first in the class to my twentieth. She wanted to be a doctor as much as I wanted to be a lawyer. I’d always thought she and Jude were a strange pairing. Studious wasn’t really Jude’s type. “Thanks, um, for telling me.” Except I almost wished he hadn’t. I’d accused Jude of intentionally using his popularity against me—had almost convinced myself his accident was karma for deliberately trying to mess with my future by running despite no interest in student politics whatsoever. Knowing his decision wasn’t personal after all only made the flame of my guilt burn hotter.

“Anyway, I’m sorry if losing the election cost you the Ivy League experience after all your hard work. If it’s any consolation, winning wasn’t enough to make up for my shitty grades anyway, especially when baseball was no longer an option.”

My body went still. An actual apology? I looked around the room for a hidden camera and back at Jude. The sincerity reflected on his face was humbling, and I forgave him right then and there. “It turned out okay in the end.” I’d loved U-M and would never have met Esther if I’d gone to Cornell or U. Penn.

Jude nodded. “For me as well. No regrets.”

I wanted to ask if that was true. Was he happy with the way his life had turned out? Or did he think about what could have been every time he watched a baseball game? But since I liked the answer he provided, I took him at his word.

“You mentioned something about notes for the party?” he said.

Oh yes, the party.I handed him a pile of loose papers. “Nothing too detailed, but let me know what you think.”

A few minutes later, we agreed the space at Sotto 13 was too small, the menu at Sakagura too limited, and the atmosphere at The Writing Room too casual.

“Society Cafe had the best ambiance,” I said.

“And they have a private room for sixty.”

“Too bad we’ve probably been banned from the place, because I’d like to see their catering menu.” I chewed my lip. “Maybe Nicole or Eddie can talk to George directly?”

“No.” Jude vaulted off the couch and paced. “There’s no way I’m giving the fuckingseniorsany material to use against us.”

“Seniors. Ha!” So, Jude was equally annoyed by our older siblings’ patronizing attitudes. I always assumed nothing got to him.

“He’s not going to turn down our money. We’ll just set up another meeting like nothing happened and be on our best behavior.” He stopped pacing and turned to me. “Can you do that? Behave?”

I blinked. “CanI?” I asked, pointing at myself. “Of course. Canyou?”

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