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NOTE:
The gorgeous cover above was created by my amazing friend siremay. Let's just take a minute and appreciate its beauty. I hope you enjoy this edited chapter and don't forget to vote, comment, and share. Point out any errors and leave your thoughts so far.

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0 2 | Until There Was You

When Jude returned home he found himself grabbing his phone and stalking his ex-girlfriend's Instagram page with eagerness. His heart swelled as he lay sprawled across his sofa. There was this churning sensation consuming his stomach. It was telling him not to. He knew how wrong it was to look back at their history. He knew it would hurt even more when he remembered and recalled those bittersweet memories. He knew he was setting himself up for sadness and more heartache. But what did he really have to lose? What more could a broken heart endure in spite of a few old memories?

It didn't take long for that fragility to dawn upon him. His eyes were analyzing every picture and holding onto every moment. He knew that in a heartbeat it would be gone. He knew that all of it was gone. His thoughts seemed intolerable, rereading the cheesiness and cliches of the captions beneath the images. There were so many pictures of the two of them, it nearly overcrowded the page.

Jude's thoughts lingered and those demeaning notions scratched frantically in his mind; she didn't love him as much as he had loved her. The pictures on her page weren't evident, it seemed, her profile portrayed the exact opposite. Maybe it had all been for show. Some kind of publicity stunt then.

He stared at a picture, his favorite, where they were on the beach. It was summer vacation and Beverly's hair was frazzled from the heat. Still, she looked beautiful. Jude had his arms encircled around her waist, his lips in the crook of her neck, and Beverly was smiling brightly. Seth loitered in the background with a cup raised to the sky, talking to Bridget, someone that was in their friend group. Jude even remembered who had taken the picture that day. Lincoln. Suddenly, Jude felt nauseated with those sporadic happenings and the uneventful mishaps that occurred to him in the course of twenty-four hours. Why did this have to happen to him?

If it were up to Jude he would have flung Seth off a cliff into an abyss filled with utter darkness. If it were up to Jude he wouldn't be in this predicament at all, but as always, fate had other plans. If it was even that or Jude simply being oblivious from the start.

He tossed his phone aside, sighing into the air that was as hot as he was when he lunged for Seth. Eventually though, Jude got up and decided to go into his room and sleep for the rest of the day. It was clear he had lost all energy to do anything that day. That was all he could really do, until his parents came home, scolding him for what he had done. They'd take away his car keys or worse his cellphone privileges.

Jude collided head first onto his mattress, allowing the ground below his feet to shake. Fucking hell, he thought. He sat there, deprived of his sleeping abilities before he finally gave in. He finally let his memories vanish away for a bit. For a moment he could forget any of it ever happened. And for a while, as he slept, he believed it didn't. However, when he woke up again, his eyes flashed with the memories of his former friends and the way he was drowned in the black holes of sorrow.

He rested there, eyes trained on the blackness above him, hair unkempt with a throbbing head. There was hardly a minute that went by where Beverly didn't tumble into his mind, sliding in like clouds in the sky. She was stuck there, much like everything that made him himself. She was as close to his heart as his passion for football and as close as his (now crumbling) reputation. He tried ignoring her presence completely, but that thought ceased to exist. He told himself that if he ignored her the pain would wither. If he ignored her he wouldn't love her as much. If he ignored her...

He stopped himself. His heart was being stepped on, yanked, and tugged into a jungle of infinite realities. He gazed at the ceiling, remembering many times where him and Beverly laid under it in fascination. Jude's arms were wrapped around her delicate frame, and he could still hear the bubbly pitch of her laughter, filling like musical keys in his ears.

What they had was gone, and would be gone forever. Jude didn't know how to continue without the person that made him most happy.

There seemed to be this new form of vulnerability to Jude. He wanted to punch something. He wanted his hands to bleed and to endure the pain far worse than the feeling this gave him. He was always told that men shouldn't cry. It meant that you were weak and Jude always tried to be the opposite. He never let the tears fall, and Jude promised himself that he never would. And just as suddenly his door swung open, footsteps following. He was greeted with the perplexed expressions of his parents, fingers ready to discourage him and showcase their disappointment. First came the lectures. Then, the comparisons. Finally, the punishment.

He tried to look calm, as if he had undergone this process a million times, but inside he was utter angst and apprehension. He sat up, legs casually resting over his bedside, eyes trailing to meet his fuming parents. Their expressions were resentful, full of venom, laced with coldness that shivered down Jude's spine.

When Jude looked at his mother, whose features were as identical as his, he saw the disappointment in her expression. It made him feel worse. He saw the looks of accusations and failed success. The eyes that once told him stories of how the monsters under his bed were friends. The same eyes that told him that she would be leaving for a business trip in a few months. The eyes that reminded him of his very own hard bitter truth. Jude hated it. And when he saw his father's expression there was nothing.

And all Jude could think was how much of a fuck up he was. He was a failure in their eyes.

"What the hell were you thinking, Judah?" his mother said, throwing her arms in the air for emphasis. Jude flinched as a result, still attempting to hold his ground.

"How did you get suspended?" his father asked calmly, but his face read anything but calm. Jude looked down, watching the ground in concentration. He wanted to avoid this question badly, dodging the obstacles like the plague. He wanted to prevent the truth from coming out by splattering it with untold realities and fearful lies. How could he answer it? How could he tell his parents that his girlfriend had cheated on him with his best friend? The story itself felt heavy in weight, emotionally and mentally. So, Jude decided to give out half the truth.

"I got into a fight," he admitted.

"Dammit, Judah. This is just ridiculous," his mother said, putting her hands on her head, soothing her hair down in exhaustion.

"What did you do this time?" she asked.

Of course she'd blame him. It was always Jude's fault. Jude didn't reply, which resulted in his mom, leaving the room, annoyed with Jude and his childish actions. Jude felt like he let his mom down. He was left with his father, staring at him deeply with his arms crossed in dominance. Jude watched his mom leave. There was an odd pinch in his gut.

"You have to do better for yourself, son," he said. "Some things aren't worth the fight."

But Beverly was, he wanted to say. His reputation was, he wanted to defend. Instead though, he nodded, allowing the tranquility and regret of his father's words to settle in his mind. His father lingered there for a while. Finally, he sighed and turned to exit, but before he could Jude stopped him. "What about my punishment?" He asked.

"You don't need one."

Jude knew what that meant. It meant that he'd face his punishment in some other form, and he wished that his parents knew he already had. He suffered more than they would ever know. Despite that, he was glad they didn't present him with one.

Again, Jude was alone, staring at the blankness of the wall with boredom tainting his world. In that trail of time he thought about his life and the losses he experienced. He heard the front doors close downstairs and he knew that he was alone in that house once more.

He found himself picking up his phone, dialing Beverly's number. He listened to the ringing as it vibrated through his ears. Anxiously, he waited for the sound of her voice to dance between the phone lines, telling him he was okay. Then, she would come over and they'd talk and kiss and Jude would be at bay. But that was a fantasy now, far away from reality, and Jude hoped and prayed that there was a better explanation for this. He hoped what he believed wasn't true. He hoped she didn't love Seth, the way he had loved her. He hoped and hoped and hoped. Sadly, her voice never came.

"Sorry I couldn't contact you, I'm probably busy at the mo—" then there was her laugh. "Stop Jude. I'm trying to record my voice message."

There were a few muffled noises and then her laugh again. "Sorry again, but I'll contact you as soon as I can."

There were more things than he thought that reminded him of Beverly. He remembered the day she recorded it. It was when they first began dating and they were as lovesick for each other like an old couple. Jude remembered promising her how they would grow old together, laughing at those chronic memories with tears in their eyes. It felt so real and that hurt Jude even more. He could have sworn it was real in his eyes. Their relationship was so meaningful to Jude, but maybe it was meaningless to Beverly. What had he done wrong? Was she not happy with him? All the questions Jude asked himself seemed to all end the same. They all ended with a damaged guy, deprived of his well being. Heartbroken and vulnerable.

Silently, he shook the feeling off, desperate to get the brunette girl out of his head, and decided to call up the one person who probably gave zero fucks about the situation as a whole. Lincoln. He was always the neutral one in the social circle. He usually went with the flow and cruised through life like a daydream. Jude aspired to be as calm as him. On the second ring he picked up his phone. "What the hell do you want, Lockhart? You're not calling to pour your heart out over Beverly are you?"

Jude laughed—a very fake one at that. It wasn't his intention to do so, but in his mind he was folding into nothingness, melting into the crevices of darkness. Jude didn't want to reply to Lincoln's statement.

"She's one girl and we're in high school. It's not the end of the fucking world. I'm just a little shocked that you didn't see it coming," Lincoln chuckled into the phone. "I mean Seth pretty much sleeps with any girl that breathes. Beverly included."

"I didn't expect him to sleep with my girlfriend," Jude snapped.

"Calm down, lover boy," Lincoln eased. "That's what got you suspended in the first place. Your anger."

Jude didn't reply. He knew it was partially true. "So what gave you the audacity to call me as soon as I was leaving practice," Lincoln issued. There were a few muffled sounds, then the slam of a door over the line.

In honesty, Jude didn't know why he called. Out of boredom maybe. For a distraction possibly. Maybe he just wanted to talk to someone who didn't look at the situation like it was the most popular story on the news channel right now.

"You know what, don't answer that. I'll swing over in a bit," he declared and that was the end of the conversation. Jude stared at the reflecting numbers on his phone, then slipped it in his back pocket. Finally, he made his way downstairs, tugging on his shoes, slumping into his sofa. As soon as he got comfortable in his spot, there was the swing of the front door shaking Jude from his reverie.

"What the hell, Lincoln. There's this thing called knocking," Jude scolded, then stood up.

"Knocking's for bitches," Lincoln admitted, tossing his keys in his oversized hands. Lincoln was handsome. There was no doubt about that. His skin was dark and smooth, like the analogy of the dark sky. His hair curled in tight ringlets above his head. His jawline was tight and he had the most defined cheekbones. His eyes were this darkened brown, holding shades of mahogany and specks of hazel scattering the outer rim.

"Let's go," he demanded, already pivoting on his heel in the direction of the door.

"Where are we going?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Lincoln questioned and raised his eyebrows. "Helping you get over Beverly. Which for you, I know is impossible."

Jude rolled his eyes.

"Piss off," he muttered, but it was the first time a genuine smile found its way onto his face that day. And it didn't even remind him of her.

"I will when you can get an A in your Calculus class," he teased and Jude shot him a challenging glare. "Exactly. We both know that'll never happen."

And just like that Jude found himself getting into Lincoln's truck with this tinge of uncertainty telling him otherwise.

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TO BE CONTINUED

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