Until There Was You

nineteen

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1 9 | Until There Was You

Jude didn't count the amount of times he wished he could stay like that; warped in a silent elude of freedom. Where the stars sunk near the windshield, the ground vibrated under the soles of his shoes, and the soberness slithered from the perishing disaster he hid from. Waverly smiled, the kind that made Jude smile too.

Lincoln held three bottles of beer, listening to them clink against the softness of the grass. They were currently in the backyard of an abandoned house, one of Waverly's infamous hideouts, admiring the silence that blanketed them.

Jude was sitting next to Waverly. Their arms brushed briefly. Lincoln was on the other side of Waverly, passing the beers down. When the beer made its way in Jude's direction he told himself that a little sip wouldn't hurt anyone. He had to be semi-safe if he was the designated driver.

"So, what made you call us up?" Lincoln questioned, then his mouth covered the top of his beer, downing a sip. He peered a glance in Jude's direction, but Jude kept his gaze ahead.

"I was bored," he replied.

"Sure you were," Lincoln said. "Or this was your excuse to hang out with Waverly."

Jude was on the urge of reaching over Waverly and smacking Lincoln with his glass bottle, but instead Waverly handled it herself.

"You're still angry because I beat you in the pool," she pointed out. Lincoln cleared his throat and attempted to adjust the crinkles in his shirt.

"You wish," Lincoln uttered. "You're always at my throat, Waverly, damn. Let me breathe."

"I will when you admit you cheated in that other game."

"What? You're still pissed about that? Jude, tell her I didn't cheat. I swear to God. Come on, Jude."

"I'm not in this debate," Jude tossed out.

"Some friend you are. What happened to bros before—"

Waverly glared at him.

"Finish that sentence. I dare you," she demanded. Lincoln didn't finish it and pulled at a piece of his hair, stretching it and letting it reform back to its state. After a moment, Lincoln stood up and made his way to Jude's car. "I'll be in the car. Pass me your keys."

Jude tossed them in Lincoln's direction. He watched as he unlocked the door and turned on the radio. The music was drowned out from Jude's perspective, but still audible. A perfect solution for their eerie night, dazzling in the background and basking over the spirit of nostalgia. Lincoln stayed in the front seat for the rest of the time. And for some awkward reason, it was harder to be around Waverly. He took a swallow of his beer, thinking of a way to start a conversation.

"When I was seven years old," he started, catching Waverly's attention. He knew she was looking at him, letting his words sink in like a poem. He continued. "I saw you fall from the monkey bars at that playground in elementary school."

He didn't have to look to know Waverly's face held confusion. "What are you getting at, Lockhart?"

"Shh. Let me finish," he dismissed. "You didn't cry. You didn't tell anyone. You kept it to yourself. Most seven year olds would have ran to a teacher crying, but you didn't. You looked up and said that everything would be okay and brushed it off. Now, I get it," he added and turned toward her.