A love story
Chapters with * next to the number may contain sensitive content.
WARNING: contains strong language, violence, sexuality, emotional trauma, drug use, and other content suited for mature audiences. Don't read if you're a pansy.
Copyrigh...
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We were quiet and still, Jude's feet propped up on my coffee table facing the tv, my hands working a grilled cheese sandwich into existence. The whole apartment reeked of fresh weed and the smoke of it, which wasn't unusual. In Jude's left hand he had a Pepsi can, and his right fingers held a carefully crafted joint with a lit end. He seemed to be calm now. At least I hoped.
I knew there was no immediate cure to withdrawal except the thing itself that fueled it, but the temporary fix seemed to do something for him. I liked to think I also helped, maybe slightly.
I had been thinking of different ways to initiate a conversation. Nothing seemed good enough. I was a tongue tied mess and I feared the awkwardness would be too much for him to bare. For some reason, the idea of him leaving disappointed me. Perhaps it was my sudden resolution to befriend him that drove this. Or maybe I was just hungry and it was screwing with my emotions.
I pressed the top slice of bread against the rest of the sandwich with my spatula, the heat from the gas stove warming my wrist. I noticed the melted cheese spilling out the sides and decided it was time. I picked it up and plopped it onto a glass plate. It wasn't as impressive as other things I could have made him, but it was all I had to offer at the time.
"Are you..." I coughed a little bit. "You hungry, man?"
He turned his head and smiled. "Yeah, definitely." He had a nice smile.
"Then get up and eat." I cringed at my snappy tone, as I moved the plate forward on the kitchen counter.
"Are you still angry at me?" He questioned as he moved the joint between his lips for a brief intake. I shook my head.
"I was never mad at you. I just always seem very angry."
"Even when we were together last month looking for your homicidal step father? You seemed pretty peeved then," he observed as he picked up the sandwich in his free hand.
I groaned, leaning against the wall. "That was...a really difficult time for me. I wasn't thinking straight."
"It's cool, I get it." He took a bite. "If anyone gets it, it's me," he insisted with his mouth full. I rolled my eyes and grabbed a napkin.
"Just because I'm being nice doesn't mean I'll tolerate you eating like a goddamn animal." I shoved the napkin towards his mouth and he snatched it out of my hand.
"My bad," he apologized, though his slight chuckle made it seem somewhat insincere.
"What?" I remarked at his evident smirk.
"Yelling at me is your idea of being nice?"
"Hey, I could have tossed you out to fend for yourself. Besides I wasn't yelling." I corrected him with a huff, opening up a can of soda.
