6. Annoying Guy With A Cat
1197 Words
Jude doesn’t falter. He’s serious.
I’ll never know what my answer was going to be because when I do finally find my voice, my reply is cut off by Mom’s shout. “Evie, where’d you go?” she calls from inside the house.
I tear my gaze away from him and find Mom standing at the porch looking at us. A smile touches her lips when she notices him. “Jude, I’m making pancakes. Would you like some?” she asks hopefully, walking over to us.
Jude shakes his head politely. “Thanks for the offer, Mrs. Sinclair. I’ll pass today.”
Mom narrows her eyes at him like a disapproving mother hen. “You should be wearing something—you’ll catch a cold. Oh, Thea looks to be in a good mood today,” she says, motioning toward the cat in his arms.
Jude chuckles as he strokes the cat’s head. “It's actually a ‘he’. I was just telling Evie about it and she was helping me come up with names. He’s picky. Only lets me pet him when he feels like it.”
“Were you? Find anything good?” Mom reaches out to try her luck, but the cat hisses, its ears flattening against its head. She flinches, laughing nervously. “Oops, not there yet. He really only likes you, doesn’t he?”
“Everyone does,” he says, his eyes briefly flicking to me.
I roll mine and look away, pretending I didn’t hear him.
Mom laughs, and then oblivious to the undercurrent, turns her attention back to me. “Oh, I came to tell you—could you please pick up Joel from school? I just remembered I have a call with my editing client in half an hour.”
The request feels like a punch to the stomach. Pick him up? By car?
My breath quickens as the words sink in, memories flashing through my mind in jagged fragments—the screech of brakes, the crunch of metal.
I hesitate, swallowing hard. “Mom, I can’t… drive,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
Her face flushes with guilt, her hand coming to rest gently on my back. “Evie, I’m so sorry,” she murmurs. But before I can stop her, she turns to Jude, her problem-solving instincts kicking in.
“Jude, do you happen to be free right now?”
My stomach drops. No, please no. Don’t put me in a car with him alone.
Jude seems to have already read the muted conversation between us. He nods easily, shifting the white cat in his arms. “Absolutely. What can I do for you?”
“Could you take Evie to Joel’s school? He’s coming back from camp today,” Mom explains, looking relieved.
Jude’s eyes lock onto mine, and I see the satisfaction gleaming there as he nods again, far too eager for my liking. “Definitely. I was about to go that way to shop for groceries anyway.”
“Perfect,” Mom exclaims, clapping her hands together with a pleased smile.
I groan inwardly, catching the smug curve of Jude’s lips as he glances at me. This is going to be a long ride.
***
The car ride starts off quiet, the only sound being Jude’s humming, and the occasional purr of the white cat that occupies the basket on my lap. I can’t quite catch the song, but I’m sure I’ve heard it before.
“Make sure you don’t touch him. He’ll scratch you. He hates being bothered,” Jude says suddenly when he finds me studying the cat. His voice is so easy and casual as if he didn’t just throw out heavy words at me a while ago: Break up with him. Don’t you want to give us another chance? Say the word, Evie. That’s all it takes.
I cross my arms tightly over my chest and stare out the window, determined not to engage. Outside, the world is drenched in autumn hues—golden yellows, fiery oranges, and deep reds. A chilly breeze blows through the slightly cracked window, carrying the scent of fallen leaves. It's the middle of October and the countdown to Halloween is in full swing.
Some places already have decorations up: inflatable pumpkins, skeletons lounging in lawn chairs, and string lights shaped like bats. A witch on a broomstick dangles precariously from a tree, as if crash-landing was her intention.
“So, Dave Weston, huh?” Jude mumbles, breaking the silence.
I glance at him, narrowing my eyes. “What about him?”
He shrugs, one hand resting lazily on the steering wheel. “Just... people usually don’t save their boyfriend’s number with their full name. It’s a little corporate, don’t you think?”
“It’s practical,” I shoot back, turning my gaze out the window again.
“Practical?” He snorts, clearly not letting this go. “Come on, Evie. ‘Dave Weston’? Really? That sounds like the name of a guy you hired to install a water heater.”
I roll my eyes. “Not everyone needs to use nicknames like ‘Babe’ or ‘Sweetie.’ Some of us are adults.”
“Oh, so you’re saying saving him as ‘Dave’ with a little red heart would be too childish for you?” he teases, glancing at me with a smirk.
“Exactly.”
“Right. Because nothing screams ‘romance’ like first and last names in your phone. Does he call you ‘Evelyn Sinclair’ when he’s feeling extra affectionate?”
Despite myself, a laugh escapes before I can stifle it. I clamp my lips shut, shaking my head. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m just saying,” Jude continues, clearly enjoying himself. “If I was your boyfriend, I’d make sure you had something better to save me as. Maybe ‘Jude the Great’ or ‘Your Future Husband.’ Something fun, you know?”
I snort. “Please. I’d probably save you as ‘Annoying Guy With a Cat.’”
He gasps dramatically, clutching his chest like I’ve wounded him. “Ouch. That’s harsh, Evie. Thea deserves better than that.”
“Thea’s the only reason you’re tolerable right now,” I quip, refusing to meet his gaze.
Jude grins, leaning back in his seat. “You’re laughing. That means I’m doing something right.”
I roll my eyes again, fighting the smile tugging at my lips. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
We fall into a comfortable silence for a moment, but my mind keeps circling back to his earlier question. Don’t you want to give us another chance?
As if reading my thoughts, Jude glances at me. “You know,” he says, his tone softer now, “it’s not too late to fix your contact list. Just saying.”
I shake my head, unable to suppress a small smile this time, losing myself momentarily in those hazel eyes. I want him, the thought comes into my mind unbidden and my heart aches. He still feels mine. It’s so hard to believe he isn’t. I whisper to him, barely hiding the pain from my voice, “You’re ridiculous.”
- Writer
