Clash (Crash 2)

I clutched the note in my hand the entire drive home.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

School was officially out for winter break. India had left yesterday for a sunny and sandy Christmas in Barbados, along with the rest of the dorm residents, and since my flight wasn’t until Sunday morning, I was going to have a quiet weekend all to myself. The prospect wasn’t appealing on any level of the pleasure scale.

Other than the note, I hadn’t had any contact with Jude since fleeing in my car last Saturday morning. And even though I’d cried in my bed every night since, feeling his phantom arms around me, it had been worth eight hours Saturday night. The pleasure then was worth the pain now.

Sitting in the swivel chair, watching the coffee pot percolate, I knew I couldn’t hang out in this empty room for another twenty-four hours like this. Rushing to my closet before I could change my mind, I slid into a pair of leggings, my boots, and debated what top to wear. The debate was over when my hand clutched the ginormous orange sweatshirt folded on the top shelf. I pulled it on and, after rearranging my hair and dabbing on a few smears of makeup, I was out of the door, my keys and purse in hand.

I headed north out of the parking lot, checking the fuel indicator to make sure I had a full tank. It was going to be a long drive.

Today was a big playoff game for Syracuse. A day before Christmas Eve game that was expected to be the game of the season. I couldn’t miss it. I’d missed Jude’s last couple home games and I couldn’t miss another.

We might have been taking a break, but I could still fade into the crowd of tens of thousands and enjoy him playing the game that seemed created for him. It was a selfish thing what I was doing, but given I was alone a day before Christmas, selfish seemed more acceptable today.

I passed the drive time listening to a few of my favorite CDs, trying not to think about Jude, failing, and then giving myself an early Christmas present and writing myself a hall pass to think about Jude as much as I wanted to today.

It was less than a half hour to kick off, which meant I had to park a mile away and trek in. I loved a football game‌—‌I always had. Even as a toddler plucking grass on the sidelines at John’s games, I’d loved it.

I loved the roar of the fans, I loved the clash of helmet hitting helmet, I loved the energy in the air, I loved the hot dogs. I loved it all.

But most of all, I loved watching Jude play. He played with the heart of a player who truly loved the game. He would have played every day even if it wasn’t in exchange for a college scholarship or, one day soon, in exchange for millions of dollars a year.

Jude played because he loved it.

And I loved watching him play.

Making my way up to the ticket window, I immediately wished I would have picked another.

“If you don’t just get prettier every time I see you, young lady,” the elderly man behind the desk said with a smile. His name was Lou, and he reminded me of my grandpa. “I haven’t seen you the past couple games. Mr. Jude hasn’t been messing things up with you, has he now?”

I smiled back politely. “No, Mr. Jude hasn’t been doing anything to mess things up,” I said, folding my arms over the counter.

“That’s good to hear, Miss Lucy. I wouldn’t want to have teach him a lesson on how a man’s supposed to treat a woman.”

“I don’t think any of us would want that.” I smiled and waited for Lou to wrap it up. The old man loved bantering back and forth with me and I was usually happy to play along, but this time was different. I doubted that if he knew how I’d hurt Jude, he’d be teasing me good-naturedly now.

Skimming through the stack of tickets, he pulled out two. Jude always left one for me and an extra in case I wanted to bring a friend. “I was wondering if these tickets would go unclaimed again today,” he said, sliding them through the window. “If I wasn’t certain Mr. Jude would have marched off the field to physically remove me, I might have slipped into one of these seats.”

“Why don’t you take them today, Lou?” I said, pushing them back towards him. “I just want a general admission ticket today.”

“Why would you want a general admission when you’ve got front row seats on the fifty, honey?” The frown lines deepened on his face.

“Please, Lou?” I asked, biting my lip. I didn’t want to explain to him what I couldn’t quite explain to myself. “Just one general admission ticket?”

He sighed, tapping his fingers over the counter. “Okay,” he said, “but only because I can’t say no to a pretty face.”

Stacking a GA ticket on the other two Jude set aside for me every game, he slid them back through the window at me. “It’s on the house, but you have to take these two with you. Mr. Jude would have my job if he found out you were here and I didn’t at least give them to you.”

“Thanks, Lou,” I said, taking the tickets. “Maybe one of these games you and I can use these together.”

Lou’s brown eyes softened. “That would be a real honor, Miss Lucy.”

Tapping the tickets on the counter, I turned to head inside the gates. “Thanks again.”

He nodded his acknowledgement, looking at a loss for words.

Weaving through the tunnel, the roar of the crowd amplified. Syracuse was taking the field. I hurried, not wanting to miss it. This was one of my favorite moments of the game. When Jude came sprinting onto the field, leading an army of men, all of them looking like they were as invincible as they believed they were, I got goose bumps every time.

tched the note in my hand the entire drive home.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

School was officially out for winter break. India had left yesterday for a sunny and sandy Christmas in Barbados, along with the rest of the dorm residents, and since my flight wasn’t until Sunday morning, I was going to have a quiet weekend all to myself. The prospect wasn’t appealing on any level of the pleasure scale.

Other than the note, I hadn’t had any contact with Jude since fleeing in my car last Saturday morning. And even though I’d cried in my bed every night since, feeling his phantom arms around me, it had been worth eight hours Saturday night. The pleasure then was worth the pain now.

Sitting in the swivel chair, watching the coffee pot percolate, I knew I couldn’t hang out in this empty room for another twenty-four hours like this. Rushing to my closet before I could change my mind, I slid into a pair of leggings, my boots, and debated what top to wear. The debate was over when my hand clutched the ginormous orange sweatshirt folded on the top shelf. I pulled it on and, after rearranging my hair and dabbing on a few smears of makeup, I was out of the door, my keys and purse in hand.

I headed north out of the parking lot, checking the fuel indicator to make sure I had a full tank. It was going to be a long drive.

Today was a big playoff game for Syracuse. A day before Christmas Eve game that was expected to be the game of the season. I couldn’t miss it. I’d missed Jude’s last couple home games and I couldn’t miss another.

We might have been taking a break, but I could still fade into the crowd of tens of thousands and enjoy him playing the game that seemed created for him. It was a selfish thing what I was doing, but given I was alone a day before Christmas, selfish seemed more acceptable today.

I passed the drive time listening to a few of my favorite CDs, trying not to think about Jude, failing, and then giving myself an early Christmas present and writing myself a hall pass to think about Jude as much as I wanted to today.

It was less than a half hour to kick off, which meant I had to park a mile away and trek in. I loved a football game‌—‌I always had. Even as a toddler plucking grass on the sidelines at John’s games, I’d loved it.

I loved the roar of the fans, I loved the clash of helmet hitting helmet, I loved the energy in the air, I loved the hot dogs. I loved it all.

But most of all, I loved watching Jude play. He played with the heart of a player who truly loved the game. He would have played every day even if it wasn’t in exchange for a college scholarship or, one day soon, in exchange for millions of dollars a year.

Jude played because he loved it.

And I loved watching him play.

Making my way up to the ticket window, I immediately wished I would have picked another.

“If you don’t just get prettier every time I see you, young lady,” the elderly man behind the desk said with a smile. His name was Lou, and he reminded me of my grandpa. “I haven’t seen you the past couple games. Mr. Jude hasn’t been messing things up with you, has he now?”

I smiled back politely. “No, Mr. Jude hasn’t been doing anything to mess things up,” I said, folding my arms over the counter.

“That’s good to hear, Miss Lucy. I wouldn’t want to have teach him a lesson on how a man’s supposed to treat a woman.”

“I don’t think any of us would want that.” I smiled and waited for Lou to wrap it up. The old man loved bantering back and forth with me and I was usually happy to play along, but this time was different. I doubted that if he knew how I’d hurt Jude, he’d be teasing me good-naturedly now.

Skimming through the stack of tickets, he pulled out two. Jude always left one for me and an extra in case I wanted to bring a friend. “I was wondering if these tickets would go unclaimed again today,” he said, sliding them through the window. “If I wasn’t certain Mr. Jude would have marched off the field to physically remove me, I might have slipped into one of these seats.”

“Why don’t you take them today, Lou?” I said, pushing them back towards him. “I just want a general admission ticket today.”

“Why would you want a general admission when you’ve got front row seats on the fifty, honey?” The frown lines deepened on his face.

“Please, Lou?” I asked, biting my lip. I didn’t want to explain to him what I couldn’t quite explain to myself. “Just one general admission ticket?”

He sighed, tapping his fingers over the counter. “Okay,” he said, “but only because I can’t say no to a pretty face.”

Stacking a GA ticket on the other two Jude set aside for me every game, he slid them back through the window at me. “It’s on the house, but you have to take these two with you. Mr. Jude would have my job if he found out you were here and I didn’t at least give them to you.”

“Thanks, Lou,” I said, taking the tickets. “Maybe one of these games you and I can use these together.”

Lou’s brown eyes softened. “That would be a real honor, Miss Lucy.”

Tapping the tickets on the counter, I turned to head inside the gates. “Thanks again.”

He nodded his acknowledgement, looking at a loss for words.

Weaving through the tunnel, the roar of the crowd amplified. Syracuse was taking the field. I hurried, not wanting to miss it. This was one of my favorite moments of the game. When Jude came sprinting onto the field, leading an army of men, all of them looking like they were as invincible as they believed they were, I got goose bumps every time.