Page 31 of Unconventionally, Elle
Sarah:Elle, that's fantastic! Share all the details please.
Sarah:But wait, are you finally over Jude? You haven't talked about anyone since y'all broke up.
Me:I hope so, but are we ever really over our first love? I mean, we still talk and stuff. And remember I told you guys he texted me about his mom being sick and living with him in NYC. So, I mean, I've talked to him a few times since then.
Sarah:?
Me:It's nothing, I swear. I think we're just kind of friends who text now.
Rach:What?! Elle.
Sarah:Be careful, Elle. You never really seem to get over that one.
Rach:Seriously, he's like your fucking Prince Charming or Achilles' heel or something. I really can't decide. But this new guy, back to him. We like him, right?
Sarah:To be fair, she literally fell into his arms. *Jude's arms* I mean.
Me:You're a comic, Sarah, seriously.
Me:But omg, Rach, I melted when I heard Barrett's voice tonight. He didn't say too much, but he sat next to me, and when his body brushed my arm, I felt things I haven't felt in a very long time.
Rach:Uh-oh.
Sarah:She's a goner.
23
Ten years ago
Nine months of Jude. Nine months of continuing what we'd started at that Fourth of July party more than two years ago. We hardly spent a night apart, so a month ago, we'd decided to rent an apartment on Royal Street together. Yes, together.
Our cozy little apartment was close to Frenchman Street, where we'd listen to local musicians play on the streets, as well as our favorite late-night spot, the Verti Marte. Jude Ashford introduced me to the bacon-egg-and-cheese po'boy at two a.m. on a random Wednesday night, and my life has never been the same.
"You're something else, Elle Watson." He held my hand while we walked up the ramp to our seats in the Superdome. The Saints were playing, and he had season tickets.
"You do realize this is a Saints game?" He smirked. "And you are wearing the other team's colors rather proudly?"
"What can I say, I like to be different." I squeezed his hand and pulled down my bright blue Titans jersey.
"Oh, of that I have absolutely no doubts." He laughed and ran his other hand through his wavy chestnut hair. "You'recertainly spicy. That's a brave thing to do in New Orleans." He wrapped his arm around my waist and leaned down to kiss the top of my head.
"Good thing you like spicy." I looked up at him and grinned mischievously. "Let's go, Titans!" I yelled into the open atrium.
Hundreds of people stared, their eyes narrowing in disgust. A few whoops and yeahs echoed, but nothing compared to the glares sent my way.
Jude held me a little tighter and whispered into my ear, "Go Saints."
"Never." I lifted my chin to kiss that shit-eating grin off of his face.
24
Now
I sent over my final draft about Cirque to Olivia this morning. I'd been going back and forth with the editors for more than a week, and we'd all come to the agreement that we had the article ready to go to print. I was thrilled it was turned in, because Margaret, the art director, was starting to make me nervous. She needed to have the final layout in today, and she was adamant about my article fitting on a certain page. Crisis averted.
I was sitting on the couch with some leftover Mexican food when I heard a knock. I did a double take and looked at the TV, thinking it was fromSchitt's Creek, but then I heard it again.
It was definitely my door.
