Page 28 of Unconventionally, Elle
Me:Jude, I'm fine. Long story. Anyways, just wanted to say hi and let you know that I will not be cheering for the Saints this evening.
Jude:Okay, if you say so. Go Saints.
Me:Never.
21
Ten years ago
Jude and I were magnetic. I tried to stay away; I swear I did. I was running in City Park, passing the horse barns, when I noticed another runner coming toward me. As he got closer, my heart rate shot up.
He slowed down and walked the rest of the way to me.
"Beautiful day for a run, wouldn't you say?" Jude asked as sweat glistened over his toned body. I'd always loved his broad shoulders.
I'd run three miles already and had no plans on stopping. My head told me to ignore him, but some imaginary string pulled me to him.
"Elle?" His voice was deep and assertive.
I couldn't keep going. I stopped running and turned my iPod off. "Hey, Jude." He noticed my forced grin.
"Elle, what's wrong? It's me." His eyebrows drew together, and his mouth formed a tight line.
"I... I'm sorry," I stammered. "I just don't know what to say," I said nervously, scratching my forearm and looking down at my sneakers. "You're really here. You're here, I'm here, and itseems too good to be true. I can't wrap my head around this." My lungs were barely allowing me to breathe.
"You're right. I'm here. Elle, let me explain about the messages."
I looked up at him and saw the plea in his warm eyes. "Okay, what happened?" I crossed my arms over my chest defensively, holding myself.
"Elle, I swear I didn't want to stop talking to you. I know you left Nashville saying we wouldn't work, but I wanted us to work." He brushed his hand through his chestnut waves and continued. "I got a new number a few months after I came home. I left my phone at the bar in the airport on a trip. It was stupid, and I didn't have your number saved."
"But what about the emails I sent?" I responded defiantly.
"I never got any emails." His features twisted in confusion.
"Look." I pulled out my phone and scrolled to my sent messages. "Here, see? I sent you photos and all from the UK."
He pulled out his phone and began to swipe toward the date I sent the messages. He turned his phone. "Elle, nothing."
"That doesn't make sense." Confused, I looked at the messages I'd sent. Then it dawned on me. "Fuck, Jude, I'm so sorry." A sheepish grin spread on my face.
"What is it?" he asked cautiously.
"I misspelled your email address." My cheeks were burning, and I felt like crying. This was so stupid it was funny.
"How do you know?" he asked, looking over the top of my phone.
"Well, I assume your name isn't spelled J-u-e-d." I looked up with a sarcastic twinkle in my eyes.
"Elle." He chuckled. "That's... something." He rubbed his jaw and shrugged. "Why don't we start over?"
I squinted and pursed my lips. "Not all the way over, I hope?"
"Well, I sure hope not." He winked.
"Wait, one more question. What about Facebook? Did you try to find me on there?"
"Elle, you hadn't reached out, or so I thought, so I didn't want to annoy you or scare you with how much I thought about you. How much I wanted and needed you in my life." He started bumping his fist against his thigh mindlessly. "I've been a wreck for the past year, seriously."
