Kiss Me Like You Never Left

Jude Queens hated going to these things. High school parties had been bad enough, but college parties? They were a whole new type of terrible. The air was thick with mingling scents of sweat, cheap cologne, and spilled alcohol. There was no way to make it to the bathroom, and if you did, it was worse than disgusting—sticky floors, overflowing trash cans, and unmentionable substances on all surfaces. Missing these gatherings was his MO, but they'd just won a game tonight, and Yon and Klaus just would not let him stay home. It was not like he was any fun at them, anyway. He didn't drink, didn't smoke, and did not have any intentions on getting involved with anyone. And yet here he was, holding a red cup of what was probably stale beer. He sniffed it; yeah, beer.

"Can you at least try to look like you aren't in hell right now, Jud? For me?" Yon asked, leaning close to be heard over the pounding bass.

Jude Queens shot him a look that could have withered a houseplant. He shifted his weight, trying to find a patch of floor that wasn't coated in a mysterious, tacky film. "You said I could go home after one drink. That was the deal."

"You haven't even touched it! It’s been an hour, and I haven’t seen you take a single sip. Please, just one," Yon coaxed, gesturing to the red plastic cup Jude was holding like it contained radioactive waste.

Jude sighed, the sound lost in the roar of the party. He hated these things. High school parties had been a chore, but college gatherings were a special brand of misery. The air was a thick soup of sweat, cheap cologne, and the sour tang of spilled beer. He didn't drink, he didn't smoke, and he certainly didn't want to be gyrating against a stranger under a flickering neon light. But they’d won the tournament tonight—his first big win as a freshman on a sports scholarship—and Yon and Klaus had basically dragged him here by his ankles.

He brought the cup to his lips and took a cautious sip. The stale, bitter liquid hit his tongue, and he immediately made a face like he’d swallowed a lemon.

"God, that’s disgusting," Jude gagged.

Yon burst into laughter, nearly spilling his own drink. "Did he actually try it?" Klaus asked, appearing from the crowd with a flushed face and a lopsided grin.

"I did. One sip. Now I’m leaving," Jude announced, turning toward the door.

"Wait, wait! We’re celebrating!" Yon grabbed his arm, his expression turning pleading. "We won, Jud! You won! Don’t you think we’re entitled to one night where you don't act like a grumpy old man?"

Jude rolled his eyes, but he stayed put. He surveyed the room again—the disorienting strobe lights, the people screaming lyrics to a song he didn't know, the heat radiating from too many bodies in too small a space. "I’m happy we won, Yon. I just don't see how getting a headache in a basement is a reward."

"Come on, a big swallow this time," Klaus urged, reaching out to tilt the bottom of Jude’s cup upward.

Jude was forced to gulp down a mouthful to avoid wearing it. He coughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I liked you better when you were scared of me, Klaus."

"I was never scared of you. I just didn't realize you were such a softie under all that glaring," Klaus shot back. He was clearly a few beers deep, his usual sophomore swagger amplified by the alcohol.

"We have to be at the gym tomorrow morning," Jude reminded him sternly.

"Gym is for tomorrow-Klaus. Tonight-Klaus wants to party," Klaus replied, waving a hand dismissively.

Yon and Klaus were a year older, sophomores who had played volleyball with Jude back in high school. They’d taken it upon themselves to be Jude’s self-appointed guardians since he’d arrived on campus three months ago. Jude knew he wasn't the easiest person to befriend—he was quiet, intense, and had a permanent scowl that most people mistook for malice. But the volleyball court was his life, and these guys were his team.

In a rare moment of surrender, Jude took another long drink without being prompted. Yon and Klaus froze, their eyes widening in shock before breaking into identical grins of pure glee.

"I’m so proud of you," Yon cheered, clapping Jude on the shoulder.

Klaus clutched his hand to his heart, mocking a tearful parent. "Our little Juddy is growing up."

"Don't make me regret this," Jude muttered, though he felt a small, reluctant tug of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

The moment was interrupted when a girl, clearly swaying on her feet, stumbled into Jude’s side. She bounced off him, turned around to apologize, and gave him a bright, flirtatious smile. When Jude simply stared back with his usual unreadable expression, her smile faltered into a confused, slightly spooked look before she scurried away toward the bathroom.

"He's not mean! It's just his face!" Klaus yelled after her.

Jude winced, feeling a flush of heat in his cheeks. "Could you maybe not do that?"

"Would you maybe not look like you're plotting a mass casualty event?" Klaus countered, taking a massive gulp of his beer. "Give us a smile. A real one."

Jude gave him a terrifyingly fake, toothy grin.

"Oh, so cute! I could just pinch you!" Klaus reached out for Jude’s cheek.

Jude slapped his hand away with a sharp thud. "Touch me and you lose the finger."

Yon suddenly straightened up, his eyes locking on someone across the room. He shouted a name that Jude didn't catch and started weaving through the crowd to talk to a guy who was passing by.

"Drink up. I'm getting you another one," Klaus said, pointing at Jude’s half-empty cup.

"One drink, Klaus. That was the deal."

"Oh, stop being such a baby. It's just light beer," Klaus muttered, turning to scan the room for the keg.

Jude took another sip, his eyes drifting over to where Yon was standing. He wanted to see if Yon was ready to call it a night, but as his gaze landed on the man Yon was talking to, he actually choked. He sputtered, the bitter beer burning his throat as he doubled over.

"Whoa, you okay?" Klaus asked, thumping him hard on the back.

Jude waved him off, coughing until his eyes watered. He swallowed hard, his heart suddenly hammering against his ribs for a reason that had nothing to do with volleyball or stale alcohol.

"I'm... I'm fine," Jude managed, but he wasn't fine at all.

Yon was still talking to the guy, and Jude couldn't stop looking. He had never experienced anything like it—this sudden, jarring hit of attraction that felt like being spiked in the chest. The stranger was a little shorter than Jude, standing with a casual, easy confidence. He had dark brown hair that was a complete mess, falling over his forehead in a way that looked effortlessly disheveled.

As Jude watched, the guy licked his lips and broke into a wide, brilliant smile at something Yon said. It was a perfect smile. He had thick, dark eyebrows that slanted downward in a way that made him look perpetually earnest, and the light stubble along his jaw gave him a sharp, masculine edge. From this distance, Jude couldn't tell what color his eyes were, but he could see a tiny beauty mark perched high on his cheekbone.

"Earth to Jude? You still in there?" Klaus asked with a laugh.

Jude snapped his head back to Klaus, his mind racing. He realized with a jolt of panic that he’d been staring for way too long.

"What were you looking at?" Klaus asked, his eyes narrowing with sudden, sharp amusement. "Wait... who were you looking at?"

Jude felt the blood drain from his face. He hadn't told anyone at school about this. It wasn't that he was ashamed, but the volleyball team was a hyper-masculine environment, and he’d only been there three months. He wasn't ready to announce he was gay over a game of beer pong.

"No one," Jude said quickly, his voice a pitch too high.

Klaus’s gaze followed the line of where Jude had been looking. He saw Yon, and then he saw the dark-haired stranger. His eyebrows shot toward his hairline. Jude started shaking his head frantically, his heart in his throat.

"Holy fuck, Jud," Klaus whispered, a massive, delighted grin spreading across his face. "I had no idea."

"It's not—it isn't what you think," Jude argued, his hands starting to sweat.

"It's not? You were literally drooling," Klaus said, leaning in and dropping his voice so the people nearby couldn't hear. "You like the messy-hair guy, don't you?"

Jude clamped his mouth shut, the silence being the loudest admission he could have made. He felt exposed, the noise of the party suddenly feeling like it was closing in on him.

"Relax, man," Klaus said, bumping his shoulder. "Your secret is safe with me. But damn... you’ve got good taste. That’s Caleb. He’s a junior. Art major, I think."

Caleb. The name echoed in Jude’s head.

"I'm going home," Jude said, setting his cup down on a nearby table.

"Are you kidding? Yon is literally talking to him! This is your chance!" Klaus urged.

"No. Absolutely not," Jude said, already turning to push through the crowd. He wasn't ready for this. He wasn't the kind of guy who just walked up to beautiful strangers at parties. He was the guy who stayed in the shadows, the guy who focused on his footwork and his serves.

But as he moved toward the exit, he couldn't help but steal one last glance over his shoulder. Caleb was laughing now, his head tilted back, the neon light catching the sharp line of his throat.

Jude turned away and ran into the cool night air, his heart still racing. He didn't know then that his carefully constructed world of sports and solitude was about to be turned completely upside down. He didn't know that the "messy-hair guy" was about to become the center of his universe.