Knowing Jude

It's Saturday night and I have nothing to do, having finished my book-sadly- and feeling too lazy to read on my phone. It's way into the night, and I'm beneath my blankets, phone poised above my face as I try to find something interesting to do. I could play Candy Crush, but I've been stuck on one level for close to four weeks.

I come across my Facebook app and realise I haven't visited the site for a while. I tap on it and go online, sliding through my news feed. About half an hour later, I get an idea.

I bring up the search bar and type in 'Jude Walker.'

I find myself curious and wanting to see what life he has on social media. I mean, I'll be spending considerable time with him so I should probably know what sort of a person I'm dealing with, right?

Yeah, okay, so that's just an excuse to try and justify my stalking but who cares.

The results show up, and I immediately see him, and oh my god of all that's beautiful do my eyes widen.

His profile picture is a shot of him in bed, shirtless, his face half-hidden behind a pillow, his blond hair messy and his blue eyes glinting.

I can't cope...

I...

I lay the phone on my chest and take deep breaths.

I have always known he's hot but...

I lift my phone and click on the picture so that it can bring up his timeline.

This is a new scale of hot.

I can now see the image clearly, his eyes looking right into me. The bed has white covers and sheets, and his lower half is hidden beneath them. He is leaning against the headboard, where I can barely see his abs because of the large white pillow obscuring the view.

Ugh.

I groan.

Some part of my mind scorns me about how it's actually past midnight, and here I am ogling some guy on Facebook, but I ignore that voice.

I'm not being a perv, am I?

I scroll down, coming to the next photo. I'm not his friend on Facebook, so I'm glad he has them visible to the public.

Oh, wait. No, I don't care.

My eyes widen and my cheeks flush.

My heart.

This time, I place my phone beside my pillow and gaze up at my ceiling.

No wonder he always has a girl on his arm.

I've seen pictures of this kind before, but I've never seen one of a guy I actually know, so this has more impact on me.

It's a mirror selfie. He's in a bathroom, shirtless, wet and dripping, in only a pair of shorts, his wet hair tousled as he smiles at the camera.

I think that's what takes it to another level.

The smile.

It could have been a smirk or a smug smile, but no, it's just a regular smile that brings some cuteness into the hotness and...

Am I making any sense?

Probably not because the image of those abs and the forbidden v line is still stuck to my mind, and I don't think it'll ever leave. I don't want it to.

I pick up my phone again, ready to move on to the next photo.

This one is a little merciful in the fact that it doesn't cause another pause of my heart.

It's basically Cole, his tongue poked out with a crazy grin on his face, with Jude in the background, uh, with his middle finger on display.

This time he's thankfully dressed but in a sleeveless undershirt. Cole is standing behind the couch that he is sitting on so I can only see his back, and I of course recognise his hair.

I hope I don't sound like I'm analysing a movie. Stalking him is pathetic enough.

The picture has 1435 likes. Come on, people. It's just Cole doing a silly face! I scroll up, and the other two have upwards of four thousand likes.

I could be on Facebook for my entire life and never get that number, I'm sure.

I click on the comments on the first one and I'm assaulted by an array of kissy emoji and heart eyes and... Marry me??

Okay, girls, chill.

I want your babies, another comment says.

I groan and get out of there, scrolling downwards again.

The next is of him at training, juggling a ball. His pink tongue is slightly peeking out between his pink lips-is that their shade when deprived of candy?-in concentration. It says with Cole Adams and has 4652 likes. Why doesn't he just create a page? He is clearly a public figure. Which gets me thinking about Instagram. How many followers could he possibly have there?

I exit the app quickly and go to my Instagram.

Before I can search him out, however, my phone vibrates, indicating a text message. Who could possibly be texting me in the middle of the night?

I drop the notifications board, and my heart loses a beat once again.

As you reach the final pages, remember that 000005s.com is your destination for the complete story. Share the joy of reading with others and spread the word. The next chapter is just a visit away! Jude is texting me.

Shit.

Why is he texting me?

Is this some sort of sick coincidence?

A sick feeling overwhelms me as I click on his text.

Does he know I'm stalking him online? No. Facebook doesn't show you who checks your timeline, right? Or maybe some of its apps do? Or some phones? Or some other apps? Oh shit, I'm dead. Jude has only ever texted me about the tutoring sessions and never at such an ungodly hour.

His text glares at me.

Jude: Stalker much?

This time I throw my phone to the foot of my bed, grab a pillow and press it to my face.

I hate my life.

"What the fuck?" I mutter, pushing my pillow aside and glaring into the darkness.

Then I rise and crawl to the bottom of my bed, spotting my phone screen's brightness. I lay on my stomach on top of the covers and after some deliberation, type back.

I can almost hear my subconscious laughing at me, the little devil making so much noise it gets me wondering if there's a way I can flush it out of my head. Me: what are you talking about?

Pretending to be clueless is also an option, yeah? I turn off the vibration because I'm now alert and actively waiting for the next text.

Jude: Don't even bother denying it, Jo. You were just ogling me on fb.

I could have scoffed, but then he is right... Doesn't mean I'm letting him know that.

Me: Oh please. I just saw you on the people you may know list and decided to click on your timeline, nothing more.

Jude: Then why do I have a notification telling me, 'Ava Jordan searched you up on facebook.' ?

What the hell? Does this guy have spyware or some shit like that? I groan, not sure what to say.

What can I say?

What would you say?

I say nothing.

I place my phone beside my head and decide not to reply. Its screen goes off, then after a while, it lights up, and I know he has texted again. I grab it. Jude: Will you reply or should I call?

My eyes widen, and my fingers fly over the screen in a frenzy.

Me: No!

Jude: Okay, then talk to me.

Me: About?

Jude: Which photo did you like most? ;-)

I snicker.

Me: Or I can just switch my phone off and go to sleep and you can't bother me anymore.

Jude: Do that knowing on Monday me and you, same school. I'll never let you live it down, Avery.

I groan. The nerve of this guy.

Me: Yeah, right, and we'll see where you get your tutoring from.

Okay, I'm only joking, but how on earth am I going to face him again?

Jude: Okay then if you can get past Ms. Fernandez, all the best :*

He has a point, and I glare at the stupid kissy face.

Me: I hate you.

Jude: That's cool, we all go through denial at some point in life.

Cocky much?

Me: Good night, asshole.

I send that one then switch off my phone, successively blocking his arrogant ass for the night.

I

never want Monday to get here, and now I have one more reason.

Ugh.