After You

Chapter Eleven - I'm not in Love

"I can read you like a book and your lies don't fool me for one moment. You can't kid a kidder, Merry. Nor can you kid Jude."
- Rhys

I went to work on the Monday morning still none the wiser about what Jude thought of my drunken text message on Friday night. I wondered if I ought to have replied, but how could I, when I had no idea if he thought I was off my rocker? Besides, he had his boys staying with him. I probably wasn't even on his radar. Or at least, I didn't think I had been.

'Can I come in?' a deep voice said, as the door to the events office slowly opened. 'Petra - she is called Petra, right? The girl on reception? She said it was okay to just come through.' I glanced up at Jude stood in the doorway to my office, looking devastatingly handsome in black jeans, slightly worn black Chelsea boots, a white T-shirt and an open, black leather jacket; beanie in hand.

'Jude!' I gasped, jumping at the sound of his voice. The movement caused my wheelie chair to roll pathetically across the floor, and I sat there, gaping at him, until the movement of my chair petered out.

'Sorry, did I startle you?' he asked, as though there could be no other explanation for my peculiar reaction to him swanning into my office. As though I hadn't asked him out by text message.

'I just... um...' I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just said, 'Yes. You did.'

'Sorry. Do you mind me stopping by? It's just that I was meeting Laura and Stuart in the hotel lounge. They wanted to run through photos for Saturday.' I nodded. That's why he was here. To see a client. Not to see me. I wasn't sure if I was relieved or disappointed. 'Have you got a moment?' he asked. 'Is now a bad time?'

'Now's fine,' I told him, wanting to get the awkward conversation out of the way.

'So, who's Clint, and why wouldn't you be him?' Jude asked, his eyes shining playfully. I felt my cheeks heat. I hated that I blushed so easily.

"I'VE ALWAYS FOUND IT ADORABLE."

'Erm...'

'Because I was playing around on my phone, trying to work out what you might have meant, and the only thing I could come up with was "clingy"?'

'I was drunk, Jude,' I told him, simply. 'I went out with Tabby and got very, very drunk. I don't even remember getting home.'

'I figured as much. At least,' he frowned, 'I hoped you were drunk, because otherwise your spelling would've been pretty unforgivable.'

'Well,' I said, haughtily, 'my spelling's perfectly fine, because I was drunk. It might not have even been me who sent you that message. It could very well have been Tabby. I really don't remember.' Jude's eyes narrowed and he stepped closer, considering me; trying to read me and unravel truth from lie.

'So you don't want to know if I'd "lick to be your boyfriend"?' he asked, knowingly. I shook my head.

'No, not really.'

'Not really?' drawing nearer.

'Not at all,' I clarified defiantly, as his toes brushed against mine.

'Alright, then. I just wanted to check,' Jude said, his breath caressing my face; his eyes smouldering as he held my gaze. 'I wanted to make sure we were on the same page.' He stepped back; lips pressed together in a small, careless smile. 'Would you like to get some lunch?'