Electric Touch | Jude Bellingham

Chapter 1

"Ed, please, I've been getting on this bus for a year," I complained, standing at the entrance of the double decker bus.

"No pass, no ride," he said coldly, as if I had politely said hello and asked him about his day every morning.

"My phone is dead, I have no money," I begged. "It's chucking it down, please."

"No pass, no ride."

I looked at him, mouth hanging open. This day could not get any worse. Not only had I woken up late, burnt my toast and washed my hair with body wash, I had left the house in a rush without an umbrella. In London. In October. I'm sure you know how that ends.

"If you don't mind, I have a route, and I'm late," Ed glared at me, almost pushing me off the bus with his gaze.

Unwillingly, I turned around and was immediately hit by a typhoon. This was only my third day of my second year at UCL and I had already been late to one lecture now I was stood on the street watching cars wiz by. I checked the time. I had 26 minutes. If I walked, I only be 5 minutes late but I would probably get pneumonia and die for sitting in wet clothes for two hours.

I debated turning around, walking home and having a proper shower and climbing into bed and watching Grey's Anatomy. However, my stupid conscience told me I needed to get to that lecture. I couldn't start the year behind.

I started putting one foot in front of the other, avoiding the particularly large puddles and keeping my head down to stop my mascara leaking all over my face. I turned the corner onto a quieter street, lined with expensive townhouses and the cars to boot.

I noticed the sound of tyres slowing in the wet tarmac behind me. Immediately, my pulse quickened and I picked up the pace, now completely aware of how alone I was. I cursed my stupid phone and then myself for not switching on the plug last night.

The car pulled up next to me. I froze. I didn't know where to turn, or run. I looked at the car. A small black Porsche with darkened windows.

"I knew it," the window wound down and a strong accent spoke. "Lynnie Lewis?"

My mouth dropped open. "Jude?"

"Why are you walking in a hurricane?"

"What are you doing in London?" I said back.

Jude and I had known each other since, well, forever. He was my first kiss, my prom date and the first boy I had ever screamed at out of my bedroom window at 2 am. That was years ago, and when he started his football career, that was it. He had time for no one other than his trainer and a football.

"It's international week Lynnie," he grinned at me, I felt myself smiling back and immediately scolded myself. "Do you not watch football anymore because I left you?"

"And you're back," I rolled my eyes and continued walking remembering why we broke up in the first place.

"Come on," Jude followed me down the road. "Get in the car."

"No," my stubbornness got the better of me, I knew you couldn't show any weakness, because if I did he would weasel his way in like he had done so many times before. "I have a boyfriend now, I'm happy. I don't need you messing it up."

"And I would mess your relationship up would i?" It's like I could feel his ego growing. "I didn't know you still felt like that about me?"

"Jude I swear," I turned around.

He opened the door. "Just get in Lynnie."

I looked around. The clouds were as grey as an elephant and showed no sign of stopping. I already looked like a drowned rat and I could barely feel my hands. I only had one option.

"Fine, but only because I'm extremely late."