One More Thing

Chapter Nineteen: Walk in the park

The following morning, Jude turns up at the front door with a plastic bag filled with clothes.

"Hey," he says, his voice deflated. "I've got some of Sydney's things here."

"Uh, thanks," I say, taking the bag from him and putting it down in the hall. 

I turn back to face him.

He looks pale and there are bags under his eyes. He's staring at the doormat and fidgeting with his hands, which is very un-Judelike.

"I'm sorry to hear about the breakup," I say, guiltily.

He shrugs. "Well, it was for the best."

I nod, and there's this awkward silence between us. He lifts his eyes from the doormat to meet mine, and I almost jolt. Every time he looks at me, it's as if an electric current is cursing through my whole body.

"I'd better go," he says quickly, before strolling back to his car.

I watch him walk away. His shoulders are slumped and his head is bowed ever so slightly. I hardly know him, but I can't bear to see him so sad.

Before I know what I'm doing, I'm outside on the drive.

"Wait," I say.

He turns around to look at me, and a sad smile spreads across his face. 

"Did you want to go for a walk?" I ask. "It might help take your mind off things."

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"I..." he stammers, and I ready myself for the polite excuse. "Sure."

I can't help but smile. I hope I don't look too happy.

Jude asks me if I know any good places to walk and I have to think about it before I can give him an answer.

"There's a nice park down the road," I say. "But it's going to be really muddy, so be warned."

"Eh. I don't mind," he says, locking his car.

It always seems to be raining at the moment. The gravel on the footpaths is wet and shiny, and the sky is as dark as charcoal. As we walk away from the house, I try my best to dodge the puddles. Some of them are like small ponds.

He mumbles something that I don't quite hear.

"What was that?" I ask.

"I said you're going to get drenched," he smirks, before jumping into the biggest puddle I have ever seen in my life.

"Dickhead!" I shout, shrieking in horror. I am now drenched with muddy water from head to toe. I can even taste it.

He guffaws, water dripping down his face. His white T-shirt is no longer white, and it clings tightly to his frame.

I kick my foot into the puddle and aim upwards. He splutters and gasps, partly amused and partly shocked.

"I swear every time I see you, we end up in some kind of fight," I say.

"I don't believe you," he raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, I think you do."

He looks down at me, his dark eyes peering through the gaps in his wet bangs. There are beads of water trickling down his cheeks and his gaze is intense. Even when I look away, I can still feel him looking at me.

"What is it?" I ask.

He shrugs. "You've got mud on your face."

And then he reaches out a hand and gently runs a finger down my cheek.

I shudder, warmth cascading through my body.

His hand lingers on my cheek for a moment and I stand glued to the ground, my breath trapped in my lungs. He's looking intently into my eyes and, for a moment, I swear he can see every fear, every doubt, and every stupid wish I've ever had.

I inhale sharply, trying to control my totally-out-of-control heartbeat. I lean in, so that our faces are just inches apart.

His eyes are searching.

Burning.

Wanting.

And then he pulls away.

"Sorry," I say hurriedly, feeling embarrassed.

"No, it's fine," he mumbles. "Don't worry about it."

We resume our walk in silence. My cheeks are burning with embarrassment as I try to forget everything that just happened.

"Lovely birdsong," I say, even though there is hardly any audible birdsong whatsoever.

"Yeah, it's nice."

"Whereabouts do you live?" I ask.

"Foxton."

Foxton is a village about fifteen minutes away by car. It is a dozy, peaceful kind of place surrounded by hills and fields.

"Foxton's pretty," I say.

"Yeah, but..."

"But what?"

"Well, put it this way. Why would one tiny village need three mobility scooter outlets?"

I have to laugh at that. "It's full of old people isn't it?"

"Bang on."

We're now standing in front of the iron gates that lead into the park. Jude looks at me and then at the gate, as if he is unsure whether or not to enter. 

I lead the way. Twigs snap under our feet as we enter the park, and the wind howls through the gaps in the trees. We have come in through the back entrance, which leads directly into the woods.

I was right about it being muddy. We are only a few feet into the woods and my shoes are already caked with dirt and leaves.

"Do you come here often?" asks Jude, turning to face me.

"Not really," I say. "I find it creepy being out here on my own."

"I get that."

Before I can respond, I hear something rustling in the bushes behind me. It makes me shudder.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"I'm fine, I just..." I find myself trailing off. I'm still worried about Mae. Ever since yesterday, she has been on my mind constantly. Right now, the thought of being stalked in the woods hits a little to close to home.

"We can sit down for a bit if you want?" asks Jude, beckoning me towards a fallen tree.

I follow him and sit down. My jeans are  still drenched from the puddle fight, and the damp bark of the tree trunk isn't exactly helping. I have to clench my teeth to stop myself from shivering.

Jude throws himself down next to me.

"You seem worried about something," he says. His face is serious and his eyes are wide, registering every little thing.

I sigh, my shoulders dipping. I tell him how worried I am for Mae and how the world seems a little scarier right now.

He's listening intently, his brown eyes filled with concern. 

My voice is trembling but he doesn't any anything. Instead, he reaches out a hand and rests it on my shoulder. It's warm and solid and stable, like the trees that surround us.