Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 104682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
First off, it was nicely decorated but just like the apartment I was using, it lacked anything personal. There were no family pictures, no knickknacks or memorabilia of any kind. Nothing that told me anything about Jude's personal life.
The apartment was also extremely neat. That didn't surprise me considering Jude's office. What did catch me off guard were the Post-it notes. Not just a couple here and there, but dozens and dozens of them stuck everywhere. They were on the walls and windows and some were even stuck to various pieces of furniture. The kitchen too was covered in them. Every appliance looked like it had a sticky note on it. Closet doors, light switches… every surface Jude would come into contact with had a Post-it on it. They were different colors and sizes but they all had the same handwriting on them.
I glanced at Jude and saw that he was looking down at the floor. He was clearly embarrassed by my discovery. While the sticky notes were certainly unusual, I didn’t have feelings about them one way or another.
Were they the reason he’d kept me from entering his apartment for so long? Had he thought I would judge him for them?
I sighed at this latest wrinkle in the enigma that was Jude Archer.
I led him to the couch and sat down, then tugged him down next to me. There were a few notes on the coffee table. One said Be More. Another said Turn Off Television. The remote control for the television was sitting next to it. There was a third note on the table that said, Put Shoes in Closet.
I was curious what some of the other notes in the room said, but I forced them out of my mind and turned to focus on Jude. "Tell me what happened," I said. I hadn't seen anything that was evidence of someone breaking in, but that didn't really mean anything.
"Nikolai, the Post-its—" Jude began shakily.
"I don't give a fuck about the Post-its, Jude," I growled as I put my hand along the back of his neck so he would be forced to look at me. When his eyes met mine, I said, "They don't bother me. This is your place, your sanctuary. Your rules. Now tell me what happened."
Jude hesitated and then nodded. "I have to show you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. He reached his hand out for mine so I quickly took it and allowed him to lead me to his bedroom. There were Post-it notes stuck along the wall of the hallway, on his bedroom door, and throughout the room itself.
As we entered, everything seemed in its place to me, but I had no real way of knowing. I managed a glance at a few of the notes. They were similar to the ones in the living room in that they either had inspiring messages or reminders on them.
Jude dropped my hand when he reached his bed. Under normal circumstances, I would have been having all sorts of fantasies about what I could do to Jude on his big bed, but his distress kept me focused on him. He opened his nightstand drawer. I had no clue what Jude was planning on removing from the drawer, but when he did, I was flabbergasted.
One by one, he took out little Matchbox cars, five of them in total, and lined them up on his nightstand. There was nothing special or unique about the little cars. They looked old and beaten up. I'd had similar cars when I'd been a kid and I’d even bought some for Maks for his birthday. I figured every little kid in America had been given cars like them at some point in their childhood.
"Are some missing?" I asked, figuring maybe they were collectibles and worth money.
Jude shook his head. "No," he muttered.
“Then what?" I asked.
Jude clearly didn't want to tell me. I felt bad for having to force him to share something that was obviously very personal to him, but I needed to know. I put my hand on his shoulder and said, "Baby, you can tell me anything."
I hadn't meant for the endearment to come out, but I wasn't sure if Jude even noticed it. He was far too agitated.
After a beat, Jude turned and sat down on the bed and stared at the little cars that were neatly lined up on the nightstand. I sat down next to him.
"They’re in the wrong order," he said softly.
I looked at the cars. "I don't understand," I admitted.
“Whoever took them out of my drawer put them back in the wrong order," Jude explained.
Jude must’ve sensed my confusion when he glanced at me because he whispered, "Fuck." He paused for a moment before saying, "I keep them in a certain order in my drawer and every night before bed, I line them up in the same order."