In all his fiddling, he’d been focusing his eyesight more on the lenses an inch away from his face rather than the person he’d been addressing, merely distinguishing them as a smudgy figure at the peripheral of his vision to vent his frustrations to. It was only once he’d irritably butt them back into place again using the flat of his palm that he was able to drink in the grit-in-a-fresh-cut sight of Saskia, just the soft pang in his chest at the familiarity of her features enough to metaphorically squeeze a fistful of lemon into his already souring temperament. “Sweet. Always had a Kerouac kink, guess it’s all worked out and now I can peacefully drop dead.” Albeit a tad melodramatic, Jude stuck to his guns and didn’t bother offering a lighthearted retraction. Instead, he merely flipped over the page of his textbook, restlessly rapping the freshly sharpened end of his pencil against the thread thin paper. A few more seconds passed with him sitting like that before he abruptly pushed back from his chair, scooping up the book and glaring at a student nearby who cast him a curious glance. “Getting another book. That fucking allowed?” came as he snapped it shut, clenching it in a limp fist by his side before he started towards a nearby aisle with only a barely audible mutter below his breath padding out the space where the stranger might have answered. “Jesus.”
After Jude spoke, finally acknowledging her existence, Saskia looked back down at her textbook, biting her already cracked lip. She tasted a bit of blood leaking from it, her nervous habit leaving a metallic taste in her mouth. She wasn’t shaken by much, normally, but seeing Jude this angry was a different sight for her. Saskia looked down, trying to look at the words on the page, nothing sinking in for the girl. Her hair was falling in her face, so she brushed the dark locks off of her shoulders and gathered them up into a ponytail, hands fidgeting and searching for anything to do as she tried not to look back up at him to watch his reaction. It was torturous, trying not to look like he had finally shaken her. That night in general had shaken her. She liked Jude, or a part of her did, but not in the same way that he felt about her. Breaking his heart was never an intention of hers, even though she still wasn’t sure what she wanted from him. Seeing him get up and give a younger student a withering glare, she snapped up behind him, clomping along in her combat boots down the aisle after the boy. “Hey,” she said, hands gripping the sleeves of her too-big, too-long zip up hoodie. “I know you’re mad at me but I’m gonna talk to you,” she started, her voice low and hoarse from chain-smoking cigarettes that morning. Her eyebrows knitted together in concern, she looked at the books surrounding them, blue hues drifting over the leather bound titles. “I’m sorry, I guess i should say. I really am. It’s probably hard to believe but I didn’t want to hurt you at that stupid party,” she said with a sigh, moving a hand up to rake it through her curls before remembering that she had put her hair up, and then awkwardly dropping it back at her side. “I keep thinking I don’t give a shit about you, but then I hurt you and... I guess I do give a shit after all,” she said with a small, nervous chuckle, daring to look over at his face to see his reaction.
jacobvanloon
