Total pages in book: 244
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Her lips twitch. “Jude?”
My brow knits. “Yeah. Like ‘Hey, Jude.’”
“Jude from the bookshop?”
“You know him?” I ask, unsure where this is going.
“Jude as in ‘looks like a bloody fucking movie star’?”
Never has there been a more fitting description. I smile. “Yeah. That’d be him.”
Helen slaps the counter, wildly entertained, it seems. “Well, I’ll have you know, he happened to be walking by the shop yesterday after you left.”
“Okay?”
“Like he was looking for someone . . .” She sighs impatiently, her tone telling me to connect the romantic dots.
But really? Should I? “Are you saying he was looking for me?”
“Yessss. It’s obvious. He decided he’d been too vague in his come-hither and went to find you himself.”
No. Because that’s too good to be true. Although, I do like the way her brain works. “Those are a lot of logic leaps there, Eggplant Helen. But I appreciate the matchmaker in you.”
“Mark my words. You’ll be seeing him tonight. Did you make plans?”
“Yes. Sort of. We made plans to see each other, but I’m supposed to text him to set it up.”
“Don’t wait too long. A man like that won’t be around forever.”
No one’s talking about forever. I only want Jude for tonight. And maybe tomorrow if it’s good. And the next night if it’s great.
That’s all, though.
After buying another shirt, I leave the shop, my phone buzzing once I’m on the street. Jude’s name flashes across the screen, and my pulse spikes.
Jude: It’s tomorrow. And I’ve presumed a lot already this morning. I presumed last night too, when I got in bed.
I go up in flames as I reply.
TJ: I could help you with that. All that presuming.
Jude: Good. I hoped as much. Let’s meet later. I have a bunch of boring things to do this afternoon but plenty of time for non-boring things tonight. How’s seven?
TJ: That’s the perfect time for presuming. And I promise it won’t be boring.
Jude: I’ll hold you to that, Tool Johnson.
TJ: How long were you waiting to whip that one out?
Jude: I just came up with it. I was hoping to find the right moment to slide it in. How’d I do?
TJ: Great. But then, you’re kind of a dick.
Jude: You’re kind of a dick too.
He sends me the name and address of a bar. A quick Google search tells me it’s nearby, but I’d go all the way across the city for him. I don’t tell him that, though. I just tell him I’ll be there.
When I put the phone in my pocket, I punch the sky. “There. I was super chill. And now, I’m getting laid. That’s how you do it.”
The freckled brunette jogging past gives a thumbs up.
I salute her jauntily because today will be an excellent day for sex and more sex and then even more.
When I return to my hotel, I head straight for the front desk, where the attendant gives me the good news that my luggage has arrived early.
Everything is falling into place. “Perfect. I’m going to head over to my flatshare now,” I say.
Then, with two bags in tow, I head to the nearest tube station, checking the email from my company along the way to confirm the details for my flat in Waterloo, just across the river.
There’s a lockbox outside the building. A key will be in it. Just take one since your roommate will be moving in today too.
Cool. I hope he’s a good dude. All I asked was my roomie be a non-smoker and queer-friendly.
In short—the kind who won’t mind if I kick him out tonight while I do Jude.
6
A BIG BITE OF ONE THING
Jude
I sling my bag into the back of Olivia’s Fiat, then breathe a deep sigh of relief.
“Don’t take offense, Liv,” I tell my best friend, “but if I never have to beg you or anyone else for a ride into the city again, never will be soon enough. Not that I don’t totally love you for having a car.”
The fiery redhead stares daggers at me. “I hate you, Jude. You know that, right?”
“You’ve only mentioned that twenty times since I told you I was moving out of Reading,” I say, closing the boot of her sister’s car.
Olivia huffs again. “I am so jealous that you’re getting out of here. You’re going to be close to the theater, to all the studios, to the casting directors. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.”
That’s exactly why I’m leaving. I’ve lived in Reading since I finished uni, but it’s been brutal getting around. I sometimes have only a moment’s notice for an audition or a callback, and being an hour away—by train, no less—from my job and the center of the art world has cost me a couple of job opportunities.
My agent was not pleased. Harry’s sternest voice is the equivalent of anyone else’s regular voice, but he used it on me. A clear sign that I needed to be more accessible.