lowercase intended.
emilia shapiro hated tenth grade. the drama, the fights, the heartbreak. it isn't easy to study for exams with a broken heart. emilia can't wait to have the summer of a lifetime and get her mind off of it all.
jude merryweather...
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chapter 3 / his first friend
After putting on a show in the shower, I stepped out and headed to my room. It was around the corner from my bathroom, a bright sign that I made when I was younger hanging on the door. I flopped onto my bed even though I had no idea what to wear.
A tutoring session is nowhere near a date, but my hoodie and sweats weren't going to make a good impression. I tore through my closet like a madwoman, wishing Victoria could help me pick something. In the end, I sported a black top equivalent to a sports bra with a miniskirt. I tied my hoodie around my waist in case I got cold.
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As for my hair, it was still straight, so I let it hang around my shoulders. I glanced at the makeup on my dresser that was begging me to use it. I started to coat my eyelashes with mascara but changed my mind. Even if my tutor was the sexiest man alive, I had no intention of trying to impress him.
When I was satisfied with my appearance, I joined my parents downstairs. Mom was still cooking dinner for tonight, and Papi was furiously tapping the keys on his laptop.
Mom whipped her head back "EJ. Jude will be here any minute."
Jude?
While I don't spend much time with him, I'd describe him as nice but standoffish, the nerdiest person in the history of the universe, and smart. Okay, and kinda cute. Jude was about three inches taller than me. He rarely smiled, but he had a small dimple on his cheek. What? I'm a slut for dimples.
Finally, the doorbell chirped. My mom was adamant about opening the door, but I unlocked it just to annoy her.
Oh.
My.
God.
With sparkling aquamarine eyes and full, pouty lips begging to be kissed, he was cuter up close. His face was beautifully chiseled and he was blessed with a sharp jawline. To my surprise, he was husky. He was as jacked as most linebackers in the NFL.
"Emilia, right?" Jude's voice had a slight British accent, indicating that his parents aren't from here. "Jude Merryweather."
"Hey," I mumbled, getting lost in the sea of blue in his eyes. "Aren't you the guy from the yearbook club?" My face flushed after I asked that question. Jude was the photographer for the softball team, so he was often spotted snapping pictures during games.
