Crash (Crash 1)

“I’m his girlfriend?” It was meant to be a question to myself, but Taylor couldn’t let it go unanswered.

“You’re the first,” she said, looking at me like I was a puzzle. “You lucky bitch.”

CHAPTER TEN

That was all I could think about the next night as I needed all my focus on getting homecoming ready—being Jude’s first girlfriend. At first it had been a title I’d been over the moon to wear, but after I’d carefully agonized over it all night as any self-respecting teenage girl would, I wasn’t so sure how I felt about being Jude’s first now.

Girlfriend, that is.

A guy like him, with a reputation like his, had likely spanned dozens of women. So none of them were his girlfriends, big deal, they’d been intimate with him in ways I had yet to even touch. Although I was fairly certain I wanted to touch that, knowing I wouldn’t be the first, or the tenth, or—hold in the shiver—the hundredth, kind of put a damper on the whole feeling special to be his first girlfriend meter.

I wasn’t naive enough to hope a boyfriend of mine wouldn’t have a history. Hell, I had a history that wouldn’t exactly qualify me as shiny and new, but Jude’s tag ‘em and bag ‘em reputation was well known across three counties and one state line.

Now I was all for second chances. I was the second chance champion, it had nothing to do with that. My concern lay in passing every single woman that gave him a suggestive smile or a once over and wondering if that was one of Jude’s once upon a time conquests. He was allowed to have made mistakes and have regrets, but could I live with those and the consequences of them?

Letting the last hot roller tumble out of my hair, I realized there was only one way to find out. The only way for me to know if I could handle everything that came with Jude, his past, his seeming inability to talk about anything personal, his take it as it comes future, was to take it one day at a time. The only way to know if Jude Ryder was going to ultimately break my heart was to open it to him.

That epiphany should have been more terrifying than it was. Hell or heartbreak, I was in it all the way. All in, as I liked to say, because that was the only way to ensure a relationship had a fighting chance.

Checking my phone, I sighed my relief. I still had fifteen minutes to finish my makeup, get into my dress, and collect my wits as they’d need to be to get through a night of being pressed up against Jude.

And that’s when the doorbell rang.

I let myself have a second of panic before scrambling into my robe and running down the stairs. Dad and Mom were out on a rare date night, thanks to me. I’d purchased a gift certificate to their favorite French cafe on the lake and a couple of movie passes to the Cineplex twenty minutes away. I’d even made reservations to ensure they’d be out when Jude showed up.

It was deceitful, and I didn’t want Jude to think I was ashamed of him, but my parents were complicated people with memories that didn’t allow for second chances. Plus, they were parents to a teenage daughter. My dad had once told me, crimson red deep in “the talk,” that with sons, all he had to worry about was one penis, but with a daughter, he had to worry about everyone else’s. That little gem had stuck with me, probably because when I was twelve years old, I couldn’t hear the word penis without breaking into a laughing fit.

I knew if Jude and I continued on at this rate, I couldn’t keep them a secret from one another, but for tonight, it was the easiest solution to the situation that was Jude.

Pulling the door open, I tried not to gawk, but it was the only thing that seemed appropriate with Jude Ryder standing under the light of my front porch, dressed in a tux, a corsage box in hand. His trusty beanie in place. If anyone could rock the formal meets grunge trend—if one ever cropped up—it would have been him.

“I’m early,” he started, “so I know I should blame it on losing complete track of time, but really I just couldn’t wait to get here.”

Stop staring, Lucy. Stop staring, Lucy, was my mantra, but it wasn’t working.

“Okay, so don’t take this the wrong way, because I’m enjoying the view,” he began, averting his eyes to the ceiling, “I’m really enjoying the view, but I promised myself I was going to be one of those schmucky gentlemen all night and you’re not making my promise easy to keep.”

My head was foggy and I was still incapable of speech, but at least I could muster up an expression of confusion.

“Ah, hell, Luce,” Jude cursed, wincing when he glanced the shortest look over at me. “You forgot to tie your damn bathrobe.”

Gazing down confirmed it. Nothing but a strapless bra, a matching pair of panties, and a hell of a lot of skin were on full display. Honest mistake? Maybe. Freudian slip? Positively.

“Sorry,” I said, spinning around to properly cover myself up.

I heard his footsteps as he came up behind me. Brushing my hair away from my neck, his mouth fell just below my jaw. “I’m not,” he whispered, sucking the tender skin.

One touch, one kiss, and I was a mess. Right then, I wanted nothing else but to turn in his arms, tear off both our clothes, and leave nothing to the imagination that night. It was intoxicating, and overwhelming, and some part, deep within, knew it was marginally unhealthy.

“Go get your dress on so I can go show you off,” he said, pressing one final kiss into my neck before stepping back.

“Why don’t we skip the dance?” I turned to face him, playing with the tie of my robe.

o;I’m his girlfriend?” It was meant to be a question to myself, but Taylor couldn’t let it go unanswered.

“You’re the first,” she said, looking at me like I was a puzzle. “You lucky bitch.”

CHAPTER TEN

That was all I could think about the next night as I needed all my focus on getting homecoming ready—being Jude’s first girlfriend. At first it had been a title I’d been over the moon to wear, but after I’d carefully agonized over it all night as any self-respecting teenage girl would, I wasn’t so sure how I felt about being Jude’s first now.

Girlfriend, that is.

A guy like him, with a reputation like his, had likely spanned dozens of women. So none of them were his girlfriends, big deal, they’d been intimate with him in ways I had yet to even touch. Although I was fairly certain I wanted to touch that, knowing I wouldn’t be the first, or the tenth, or—hold in the shiver—the hundredth, kind of put a damper on the whole feeling special to be his first girlfriend meter.

I wasn’t naive enough to hope a boyfriend of mine wouldn’t have a history. Hell, I had a history that wouldn’t exactly qualify me as shiny and new, but Jude’s tag ‘em and bag ‘em reputation was well known across three counties and one state line.

Now I was all for second chances. I was the second chance champion, it had nothing to do with that. My concern lay in passing every single woman that gave him a suggestive smile or a once over and wondering if that was one of Jude’s once upon a time conquests. He was allowed to have made mistakes and have regrets, but could I live with those and the consequences of them?

Letting the last hot roller tumble out of my hair, I realized there was only one way to find out. The only way for me to know if I could handle everything that came with Jude, his past, his seeming inability to talk about anything personal, his take it as it comes future, was to take it one day at a time. The only way to know if Jude Ryder was going to ultimately break my heart was to open it to him.

That epiphany should have been more terrifying than it was. Hell or heartbreak, I was in it all the way. All in, as I liked to say, because that was the only way to ensure a relationship had a fighting chance.

Checking my phone, I sighed my relief. I still had fifteen minutes to finish my makeup, get into my dress, and collect my wits as they’d need to be to get through a night of being pressed up against Jude.

And that’s when the doorbell rang.

I let myself have a second of panic before scrambling into my robe and running down the stairs. Dad and Mom were out on a rare date night, thanks to me. I’d purchased a gift certificate to their favorite French cafe on the lake and a couple of movie passes to the Cineplex twenty minutes away. I’d even made reservations to ensure they’d be out when Jude showed up.

It was deceitful, and I didn’t want Jude to think I was ashamed of him, but my parents were complicated people with memories that didn’t allow for second chances. Plus, they were parents to a teenage daughter. My dad had once told me, crimson red deep in “the talk,” that with sons, all he had to worry about was one penis, but with a daughter, he had to worry about everyone else’s. That little gem had stuck with me, probably because when I was twelve years old, I couldn’t hear the word penis without breaking into a laughing fit.

I knew if Jude and I continued on at this rate, I couldn’t keep them a secret from one another, but for tonight, it was the easiest solution to the situation that was Jude.

Pulling the door open, I tried not to gawk, but it was the only thing that seemed appropriate with Jude Ryder standing under the light of my front porch, dressed in a tux, a corsage box in hand. His trusty beanie in place. If anyone could rock the formal meets grunge trend—if one ever cropped up—it would have been him.

“I’m early,” he started, “so I know I should blame it on losing complete track of time, but really I just couldn’t wait to get here.”

Stop staring, Lucy. Stop staring, Lucy, was my mantra, but it wasn’t working.

“Okay, so don’t take this the wrong way, because I’m enjoying the view,” he began, averting his eyes to the ceiling, “I’m really enjoying the view, but I promised myself I was going to be one of those schmucky gentlemen all night and you’re not making my promise easy to keep.”

My head was foggy and I was still incapable of speech, but at least I could muster up an expression of confusion.

“Ah, hell, Luce,” Jude cursed, wincing when he glanced the shortest look over at me. “You forgot to tie your damn bathrobe.”

Gazing down confirmed it. Nothing but a strapless bra, a matching pair of panties, and a hell of a lot of skin were on full display. Honest mistake? Maybe. Freudian slip? Positively.

“Sorry,” I said, spinning around to properly cover myself up.

I heard his footsteps as he came up behind me. Brushing my hair away from my neck, his mouth fell just below my jaw. “I’m not,” he whispered, sucking the tender skin.

One touch, one kiss, and I was a mess. Right then, I wanted nothing else but to turn in his arms, tear off both our clothes, and leave nothing to the imagination that night. It was intoxicating, and overwhelming, and some part, deep within, knew it was marginally unhealthy.

“Go get your dress on so I can go show you off,” he said, pressing one final kiss into my neck before stepping back.

“Why don’t we skip the dance?” I turned to face him, playing with the tie of my robe.