𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇,
Jude has a girlfriend, but can he keep himself away from Amora?
Or
Amora knows what Jude is like, and he has a girlfriend, but does that stop her?
Amora is in Germany for the Euros, and her brother Trent has cautioned her against fa...
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real life first person!
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
judes pov
AS I WALKED INTO AMORAS APARTMENT, the air felt thick, heavy with something I couldn't name. There was an edge to it—a tension that had been simmering beneath the surface ever since last night. I couldn't shake the way I had to practically carry her out of that club, her body swaying against mine as she slurred her thanks, too drunk to walk straight.
She was standing in front of me now, wrapped in nothing but a towel, her hair damp and framing her face. I tried to look away, to focus on something else, but I couldn't. I didn't know what it was about her, but I couldn't tear my eyes away.
I shouldn't have been there. I knew it. And yet, I couldn't stop myself from coming over to check on her, couldn't ignore that voice in the back of my head that told me she wasn't okay—even when she tried to pretend otherwise.
I told myself it was just because Trent had asked me to look after her. That's what I told myself as I stepped into her apartment and saw the way her shoulders tensed when she saw me. But deep down, I knew it wasn't that simple.
"Jude," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper, her fingers gripping the edge of the door like it was the only thing holding her upright.
I shouldn't have noticed the way her lips parted slightly, or the way her skin flushed under the soft lighting of the room. I shouldn't have noticed how fragile she looked, like she was trying so hard to keep it all together, but was seconds away from breaking.
But I did.
She stepped back, allowing me inside, and I could feel the weight of her gaze as I moved past her. I was hyper-aware of every step, every breath. I didn't want to look at her—at least, not like this. She was vulnerable, and I shouldn't have been the one seeing her like this. But at the same time, it felt like I was the only one who could.
"I told you, I'm fine," she said, her voice wavering slightly as she leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing her arms over her chest.
She wasn't fine. I could see it in her eyes, in the way she held herself, like she was bracing for something to shatter. I knew the look—hell, I'd seen it in the mirror enough times.
"Yeah?" I asked, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. "Last night, you didn't seem fine."
The silence that followed was thick, and I could see her struggling with something, something she didn't want to say. She shifted her weight, her arms tightening around her body as if she could shield herself from me.
"I was just drunk," she muttered, her eyes darting away from mine. "It happens."
I wasn't buying it. "It wasn't just the drinking, Amora."
