Page 34 of Play With Me

“She crashed our coffee date.”

“We were almost done.”

Jude scowls.

“I think you need to give her a chance.”

“I don’t—”

“Not romantically, Jude. I know you don’t do that with anyone.” Jude looks sharply at me. He told me that a couple of years ago when we first met. I thought he was making it clear he just wanted to be friends. But he was just telling the truth. “Well, it’s not like you need to say anything. Women hand you their phone numbers on the street and I’ve never once seen you do anything except throw those napkins out. I might have even thought you were gay if you didn’t have that big crush on Gillian Anderson.”

“The hottest woman alive.”

Jude’s crush on theX-Filesactress was a constant source of amusement for me, given he was a baby when the show was on TV.

Up ahead, we’re already approaching the lineup to buy tickets. It’s long. Once again, I wish I’d had the guts to give them all a hard no. But they seemed like they needed a buffer, someone to tag along with them so they didn’t feel so alone.

Story of my life. I got dragged along to all kinds of social engagements my whole life because I had a rubber arm, and my friends always seemed to need a wing woman. Always a plus-one. Never just the one.

“You don’t date either,” Jude says now as we approach the line.

“I do too.”

Jude barks out a laugh. “Not since Blandface Breaddough.”

I gape. “Are you talking about Todd?”

“Yeah, or the one before him. What was his name?”

“You never even met Miguel. How do you know he was like Todd?”

Jude does an exaggerated head roll, landing on me. “Please.”

I hold back a laugh, even though it’s not funny, not really. I saw a therapist too, a while ago. She said I date predictable, boring men I don’t love because they’re safe. They won’t scare me; they won’t make me cry. They won’t rip my heart out.

They won’t look at me the way Jude is now, like he sees right inside of me.

“Fine,” I admit. “They had some similarities.” The truth was, they could have been the same man. They had the same outfits I was pretty sure they bought in bulk. They liked the same movies. They even used the same no-name soap. It was kind of uncanny.

“What you need is a real man, Annie.”

I twist my braid in my hand, my heart suddenly skipping. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Someone who knows what a privilege it would be to be with you.”

My stupid heart does a full-on high jump in my chest.

But Jude won’t look at me. He’s heading to the queue, where Cap and Farrah are deep in conversation. And I don’t know what else to do but follow.

As it turns out, the London Eye is pretty fun. More than that, I actually have a blast. The pods fit up to two dozen people, and we get paired up with a huge extended American family who of course are immediately star struck by Jude.

Once we settle down and autographs are signed, the dad asks if we’d mind if they sing some Christmas tunes during our ride. They’re wearing matching Christmas sweaters and are apparently heading up to Edinburgh for the holiday. So, right there at the very top, we all start singing along. Farrah, as it turns out, has opera training, but refuses to sing because she says it will be too loud for the pod. I have the camera turned on—my handy excuse for non-participation as always. But Jude and Cap have no problem belting it out with the family, and when it comes time for the modern classic “All I Want for Christmas Is You”—at the very top of the ride no less, with the whole of London spread out like a backdrop—Cap takes on the solo. With his still high-pitched little boy’s voice, he sounds remarkably like Mariah Carey. Plus, he has all the moves down.

He has us cheering so hard, we’re hoarse. It’s only when the cheering dies down that Jude, standing next to me, leans in, saying, “Come with us.”

I snap my face up to his. “What?”

“To Switzerland.”

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