Page 69 of Someone Just Like You

“Molly’s in the kitchen, Jude.”

My heart lurched upward. Did she say Jude?

“She broke a plate.”

Laughter.

“Your aunt’s got greasy fingers.”

I stared at my hands, relieved there was nothing breakable in my grasp.Jude is here.A feeling of dread overcame me. Was I ready to face him without a glass wall between us? Did it mean anything that he’d referred to me as Eris’s aunt rather than his girlfriend?

As footsteps approached, I was resigned to pulling myself together. I turned away from the sink as Jude entered the kitchen in a dark blue Henley and black jeans. Birds took flight in my belly. I’d missed his face—his hazel-blue eyes and dazzling smile. The scent of fried oil lingered in the air.

He walked toward me. I opened my mouth, realized I had no idea what to say, and shut it. He was coming closer. I could smell his laundry detergent.He’s right in front of me.

“Hi,” he said, leaning down to kiss my cheek.

I touched a hand to my face, already missing the feel of his lips on my skin, and blinked at him.What the fuck?

The room was now filled with Blums and Starks. They were watching the newest set of lovebirds with interest. Jude took my hand and swung it.

I dug my fingers into his palm and whispered, “Am I missing something?” My heart flip-flopped. Laura and Randy beamed at us. They didn’t appear to hate me.

“Just go with it,” Jude said out of the side of his mouth before confirming to my mom he preferred decaf coffee and would love a sufganiyot, one of the aforementioned jelly donuts.

“Since when do you like sweets?” Laura asked.

“My thoughts exactly,” I mumbled. “Among others.”

“You’ve foiled my plan. It was for Molly. She begged me to give her mine, so she’d have two.”

“What?” I tried to pull myself from his grip, but he held firm. “Come with me, Jude. I…uh…need to show you something in my room…that thing I mentioned.” I dragged him out of the hallway and up the stairs.

“Keep the door open, young lady!” Mom yelled after me.

“I’m twenty-seven!”

“Doesn’t matter. My house. My rules.”

“Fine!” We entered my room, unchanged since I was sixteen with a white-and-gold four-poster canopy bed and matching dressers. I turned on the light, leaving the door open as promised. I had zero plans to get it done with Jude in my childhood bedroom while my family was downstairs anyway. Thanksgiving in the Starks’ basement was different. Hanukkah was areligiousholiday, entirely inappropriate for secret sex; Nani was here…gross…; and most importantly, Jude and I were on a break that I prayed wasn’t permanent.

Jude casually touched the spines of the books lining my shelves. I owned a wide selection of young adult dystopian novels and contemporaries like thePretty Little Liarsseries popular in my teens.

It was odd…him being here. He’d snuck his way into my childhood bedroom more than once to carry out his nefarious schemes, but this was the first time he had my permission.

He turned around and held up a book. “The Naughty List? Living vicariously?”

I ignored this. He could tease meafterhe explained himself. “What was that downstairs? I haven’t heard from you in over a week, and you’re pretending nothing is wrong. I don’t get it.”

He slid the book back into its place and brushed his hand through his hair. “I didn’t tell anyone we were in a fight.”

I sat on the edge of my bed. “Why are you keeping it a secret?”

“I didn’t want to say anything negative they could use against you if we made up.”

“You were protecting me?” My heart palpitated. I was too afraid to ask the question dangling off the tip of my tongue: Did this mean we were going to make up?

“I figured I drove my bike over a nail or something,” Jude said, skipping over my question. “I was shocked when you told me it was you. There was no gloating. We always gloated after a prank.” He visibly deflated, not unlike his tire.

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