To date, that was probably the saddest thing I’d ever heard.

“And the hat?” I understood why it was so thread bare and worn—he’d worn it every day for the past five years.

“Same reason,” he answered, sliding it over his eyebrows.

“Well that’s just all kinds of depressing,” I said, trying to think of some way to steer the conversation another direction. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Lord I hoped there wouldn’t be any heart wrenching answers to this one.

Jude shook his head. “Just me. Thank god dear old mom and dad stopped at one,” he said, looking over at me. “What about you?”

I froze. That wasn’t the dark alley I wanted the conversation to go down. “I had an older brother.”

“Had?”

I closed my eyes, trying to discuss this as neutrally as I could. “He died a few years back.”

Jude paused. “What happened?”

I bit my lip, looking up at him. “I’m not ready to dive into that one yet,” I said, trying not to sound as sad as I felt. “Especially given the whole your-mom-left-you-and-your-dad’s-in-prison thing. My depression tolerance has officially been reached.” I tried on a smile, but it didn’t fit.

“Sorry, Luce. Life is shit sometimes,” he said, giving me a squeeze. “I’m sure he was a great guy.”

“The best,” I said, studying him. “You know? Sometimes you remind me of him.”

He grinned that honest one of his. “He must have been a phenomenal guy then.”

I tried another smile, and this one worked. “He was.”

“Now we’ve got our shitty pasts out of the way, do you have anything else you’re dying to ask me?” There was a tinge of hope in his voice, hope I was done with the inquisition most likely.

No such luck.

“Tell me the real reason you didn’t call,” I said, playing with the hem of my skirt. “Do you have a girlfriend?” I didn’t know who she was or could be, but I already hated her.

Jude’s relief at the turn in questioning was visible on every plane of his face. Grinning over at me, he said, “Hell, no.”

“You don’t want one,” I stated, remembering our very first conversation.

“That used to be my MO,” he began, looking so long at my lips I felt them start to quiver, “but now I’m not so sure.”

“Okay, so you didn’t call me, not because you have a girlfriend,” I said, checking off probable explanation number one, moving on to number two. “So you decided you’re not all that into me?” I swallowed, bracing myself for whatever answer came out of his mouth.

“Luce, for such an intelligent species, you women can be really dumb sometimes.” He laughed, lifting his index finger to my chin and turning it to him. “I didn’t call because I told you, there’s nothing good that will come out of you being with me. I might not mean it to happen, but things have a way of going all to shit around me.”

“Because you’re a cancer,” I said, repeating his words, but not believing them.

“Exactly.”

I blew out a sigh of pure frustration. “Who told you that?”

  Another far off look. “Someone who used to be important.”

It seemed like all these answers should be ticking off the questions in my mind; instead they were only adding more. “Here’s the thing, Jude, everyone already thinks I’m a slut because of you, so how much worse can it get if we keep hanging out?”

“Much worse,” he muttered before his head snapped back towards me. That look of unbridled anger was back in his eyes. “Wait. You’re telling me they’re calling you a slut?”

“Um,” I stalled, familiar with Jude’s short fuse temper. “Apparently.”

Jude punched the closest locker so hard the metal caved beneath his fist. “Judgmental bastards,” he hissed, jumping up. “I’ll catch up with you soon, Luce.” He looked back at me. “I need to do something.”

“Jude,” I warned. “It’s not worth it.” Because it really wasn’t. I’d never let what others thought of me dictate what I was and I certainly wasn’t going to start now.

“Like hell it isn’t,” he answered, already striding down the hall.

A couple of guys greeted him in passing. His reply was another fist slammed into a locker.

I had fifth period PE and was next to ecstatic when Coach Ramstein told us we didn’t need to suit up because there was some sort of first day of school assembly going on.

My elevated mood took a nose dive as soon as I stepped onto the shiny gym floors. I knew everyone wasn’t staring at me, but it felt like that. Row after packed row, I was met with knowing eyes and smiles. A few were brazen enough to whisper the “s” word just loud enough so I could hear it.

Dammit, now I was getting pissed. I didn’t want to make enemies of everyone here at Southpointe, but I wasn’t ruling it out if they didn’t start shutting their traps. It didn’t seem fair a title had been forced on me without even partaking in the fun to earn such a name.

I walked to the end of the gym and sat in the bottom row of the last section of bleachers. I had the entire bench to myself.

Straightening my back, I looked up, making a point to meet every single stare pointed my way.

“Attention, please!” a tired voice spoke through a microphone. Judging from the decade old suit and shadows under his eyes, he must have been the principal. The roar in the gym didn’t lower a decibel. “Attention, please!” he repeated in an even more tired voice. This poor guy was going to have a rough year if he was already this exhausted on the first day.

I appeared to be the only student paying attention, so that’s why, when someone suddenly appeared behind the principal and snatched the microphone out of his hand, I had time to mutter a select curse word under my breath before everyone else realized what was going on.

“Shut up, you sons of bitches!” Jude’s voice vibrated the room and everyone did just as requested.

The principal attempted to retrieve the microphone, but Jude lifted it over his head, which towered a good three feet above the poor, red-faced, principal. Jude shook his head once and peaked a brow. Whatever silent words the principal picked up from that look was enough for him to back away.

Lowering the microphone, Jude looked over at me, again knowing exactly where I was in this crowd of a couple thousand. His gaze lingered on me for another second before he turned his attention elsewhere.

“I put up with you bunch of bastards because I don’t give a damn what you all think of me,” he began, walking around the podium. “But I won’t for one second put up with you trying to ruin the reputation of an innocent girl.”

I wanted to look around the room, to experience the wide-eyed faces and jaws-to-the-bleachers mouths, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Jude. He was defending my honor and, whether he was going about the right or wrong way of doing so, it was the damn sexiest, most romantic thing I’d ever had happen to me.

“Lucy Larson is a friend. A friend whose back I have, and I think everyone knows if she were some random girl I screwed, I wouldn’t be up here now.” He paused, waiting or threatening anyone to stand up and say otherwise.

I’ll be honest, gauging the look on Jude’s face, I feared whoever might have stood up to object would be leaving today’s assembly in a body bag.

“If I so much as hear a quiet thought about her being a slut,” Jude’s fist clenched, as he seemed to make eye contact with every Southpointe High student, “you better hope you don’t like your legs because I’m going to break both of them.”

Now, to match everyone else’s, my mouth fell open.

“If anyone needs any further clarification on the matter, you can take it up with me in the parking lot.” He let that not so subtle warning hang in the air another minute before holding the microphone out for the principal.

The principal motioned to another administrator to take over before looking expectantly at Jude. Chuckling, Jude followed the principal off the auditorium stairs.