The Plus One (A Brush With Love, #3)

by Mazey Eddings

“No lies were reported in my journal! You were bad.” “The worst,” Jude deadpanned. Indira scrunched her nose up at him. “A menace to society. And our parents wondered why we never got along.”

“What other gems are you hiding in these?” Jude asked, gingerly picking a different journal. “The inner workings of a highly profound and complicated teenage girl, I’m sure,” Indira said with a haughty sniff.

“Math isn’t real and its textbooks are consumerist propaganda. Nobody needs sixty-two watermelons … see, told you these books were full of genius.” Jude chuckled.

Indira nodded. “I’ll bring over a chair. Sit tight, peanut.” “Really don’t think the pet names are necessary.” “Does ‘my delicate pony’ work better?” Jude closed his eyes and sighed. “You’re insufferable.” “Back atcha, boo,” she said with a wink, straightening.

“How…” He cleared his throat again, a touch of color gathering at his cheeks. “I want to help you,” he whispered. “Can you tell me how?”

“Caring is kind of your thing,” Jude said at last. “I’ve known you since you were what, five? Six? Even when you were little, you cared about everyone. Everything. I imagine it’s hard to stop something that’s your nature.”

So he stayed still. Very still. And held her as she cried.

“Don’t,” he said, his other hand cupping her cheek, guiding her to fully face him, little bolts of electricity ricocheting up and down his spine at the heat of her skin. “Don’t apologize. You’re allowed to tell me—anyone—when you’re upset. You don’t have to pretend to be okay.”

“Trust me, I’m as horrified at this expression of feelings as you are. You bring out the worst in me.” Indira rolled her eyes but smiled. And Jude felt that smile.

Plus, Jude didn’t like how much he’d started to enjoy being around her even pre-make-out-that-shall-never-be-consciously-thought-about-again-(dreams-don’t-count-because-he-has-no-say-in-those).

Indira was familiar. And funny. And regularly annoying as hell. But there was something undeniably safe about being around her.

Low-key and chill. Exactly what he needed. Saturday, shockingly, was neither low-key nor chill.

“Please come,” he said suddenly, seeing only Indira. He needed her. He couldn’t do it without her. Indira looked at him, eyes wide and cautious, shoulders curved in defense. “Please,” Jude repeated, keeping his eyes locked with her. Looking at her for longer than he’d allowed himself in days. “I—” Jude swallowed. I want you. I need you. I already miss you. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Please. This time Jude mouthed the word, only for Indira.

“Okay,” she said with a resigned sigh. “I’m ready to suffer in the great outdoors.”

she thought of all the things she’d rather do than go camping: 1) Lick the needles off a cactus. 2) Cut her own bangs knowing full well the emotional turmoil that would haunt her for the next year. 3) Listen to a boomer talk about student loans.

Sit through a man playing devil’s advocate on literally any topic.

But, between being annoyed at her brother and worried about Jude, the situation was, to say the least, not fucking ideal.

“If my car suffers a single ding from this ridiculous, off-roading nightmare of a weekend, I will skin you alive, Collin.” “It’s a gravel road on flat land—I’m not having you traverse the Grand Canyon here.” “Feels like it,” Indira mumbled as the car jostled over a dip.

Did Jude just peek a millimeter out of his shell to roast Collin on her behalf?

“Thank you for coming. Thank you for … for being willing to help me.” Indira’s throat constricted, heart squeezing. “Don’t mention it,” she said with a smile. Jude smiled back. A single, small tear rolled down her cheek when Jude shut the door.

Collin, Rake, and Jude had already spent an annoyingly long time trying to start a fire the “good old-fashioned way,” by smacking sticks together. And, as each minute of failure ticked on, warmth seemed more like an elusive fantasy than a basic tool for survival. Lizzie, Jeremy, and Indira were huddled together, stuffing marshmallows in their mouths and quietly narrating their Neanderthals’ dismal survival skills like sportscasters covering a game.

“It seems as though Rake is going for the thick stick again after recently benching it for injury recovery.

Insider knowledge leads us to believe that, more than anything else, our resident himbo’s choice of fire-making tools is directly correlated to having absolutely no clue what he’s doing. Back to you.”

Indira opened her mouth to argue—mainly because arguing with Jude felt as natural as breathing

“You can’t take off into the woods in the middle of the night alone,” Jude said, crawling out of the tent and jogging to catch up. “I am a fiercely independent woman with immense survival skills and perfect night vision,” Indira lied. Jude scoffed in response.

“The trip up was kind of nice too,” Jude said after a few minutes. “Despite your awful driving.” Indira let out an indignant noise. “Wow. Wow. Don’t be surprised if I abandon you here. Have fun living off dirt and marshmallows.”

“I wanted to help people—especially kids—who felt everything too. Or nothing at all. Or some mixture of both. Because feelings matter. They’re chemicals mixing with experiences and some deep, unknown part of a human soul. They make us who we are and I always wanted to help people find a way to steer their ship when those feelings had them lost at sea.”

“I don’t mean it like that. I mean … I don’t know. Talk to me as a friend. Or as just a person.” “You aren’t just anything.”

But, sometime in the night, they’d both reached across it to hold hands as they slept.

“It’s cute,” she added, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at him. Jude’s eyes flicked to her face. He was certainly losing his mind. That was the only reasonable explanation for the fact that Indira’s ridiculous, shapeless mass of a “costume” was close to giving him a heart attack. But it was so fucking adorable. And cute.

Indira rolled her eyes. “Collin, when you say stuff like that, it makes me want to vandalize your yard myself.”

“That whole thing sounds like a you problem, not an us problem,” Indira said, waving a hand between herself and Jude. Something about that us made Jude’s heart flip in his chest.

“Did I win that one?” she crooned. Jude nodded appreciatively, giving her an exaggerated frown. “Expect a witty comeback text in seven to ten business days.”

She laughed so hard she started to wheeze. Jude would be damned if it wasn’t the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

Some primitive part of him wanted the exclusive right of making her smile.

“Do you still like Scooby-Doo?” Indira asked, gaze fixed on the TV. Jude swallowed and shook his head, trying to clear out the thick fog up there. “Shocking as it may be, I graduated to watching big-boy shows about ten years ago.” Indira scoffed. “Wow, Jude, so cerebral of you. Color me impressed.”

“Can I hold your hand?” Indira asked, eyes still trained on the TV. Jude looked at her. “My hand?” he echoed, slow to process what she meant. “Yes. This episode is scarier than I remember and I could use some comfort.” She scooched toward him a bit. Jude cleared his throat, the corners of his mouth ticking up. “If you must,”

Her touch made him feel … safe. Grounded. Gave him the physical anchor that allowed him to push his way through his jumbled-up thoughts and resurface as himself.

“Don’t crawl back into that brain,” she said, reaching up and gently placing her hands on his cheeks. “Don’t retreat. You’ve already come so far. Stay with me. Please. We don’t have to do anything, but don’t leave me.” She placed a kiss to the center of his forehead.

“Jude,” she said softly, moving her arms to wrap him in a hug. “Talk to me. Say anything. I promise no matter what you tell me, you can’t screw this up.”

“This is real,” Indira said, her voice level and powerful. “Whatever this is between us is real and it hurts and it’s beautiful and it matters. And I won’t let you deny that. You deserve happiness, Jude. I deserve happiness. And I think we can have that. Together.”

Because that’s what I do. I hurt people and break things and taint every single thing I touch. And I can’t do that to you, Dira. I can’t risk anything happening to you because you matter too much. You’re too important to me.”

“Because I think, what you actually want, is to grab this moment with both hands, and never let it go. I think your brain has convinced you that you don’t deserve to be cared for. Well, I’m calling bullshit. Because I care. And I’ll keep caring. I care now. I cared yesterday. I’ll care tomorrow. Every single day, I will sit outside your doorstep. And I’ll wait. I’ll wait until you need me, and I’ll be ready. Nothing you can say will change that.”

“I think I want more than just tonight.” Indira smiled, lips swollen from his kisses. “I think I do too.”

“Yes, and I’ve decided I’m jealous of every single one of them,” she said primly, spreading out her fingers so each pad touched a different mark along his arm. “Isn’t that ridiculous?” “How do you know it wasn’t you that caused them?” “You think we knew each other in a past life?” Indira said, looking at him with a hint of seriousness, like the question shouldn’t matter but it did. “You’re terrifyingly persistent. I’d bet that every alternate universe Indira has tracked me down.” Indira rolled her eyes,

Indira huffed. “While you may be rigid and stuffy, I am a woman of multitudes and have the capacity to like many things at the same time. Shocking, I’m sure … Plus, I’ll never miss a chance to be contrary toward you. It’s my love language.”

“You had one job! Protect our property from the youths!”

Jude wanted to tell Jeremy that he would pick up every fork with his teeth, buy Jeremy a new house, literally anything if he would get the ever-loving fuck out of the room.

“It’s not funny, Dira!” “It’s a little funny,” Jude said, pressing his mouth into a firm line. Indira didn’t miss the tiny quirk at its corners.