Blake and Jude Ep 4 | TeenInk

Blake and Jude Ep 4

April 17, 2010
By JayeMizzles GOLD, Paris, Other
JayeMizzles GOLD, Paris, Other
12 articles 0 photos 13 comments

Favorite Quote:
Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much.- Oscar Wilde

He said this would be fun. He said he would teach me how to create a spontaneous identity. But, like he always was, Jude was being mysterious and arrogant with his familiar smirk on his gorgeous face. Trust me; he had said while he threw my amber, floor sweeping ball gown at me, you will enjoy this. After all, you like showing off, don’t you?
He never told me where we were going, but as the taxi pulled up to the Ritz Carlton, I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that it would be a great opportunity for me to embarrass myself to no end and for him to have a great laugh at me.
“No.” I said, elongating the word.
“Oh, yes, sweetheart. The Rogue Ball. I told you that you were going to enjoy this. Absolutely everyone will be here, including you, Ms. Rubin.” His smirk grew and his Emerald green eyes twinkled in my direction. The emerald eyes that I always stumbled into, the emerald eyes that I wanted to gauge out for bringing me here.
“What the hell? My name is not Ms. Rubin. What kind of sick game are you pulling here, Jude?” As he placed his arm around my waist, I jerked away, even though I wanted to lean into him and bask in the vanilla and cinnamon scent of his cologne.
“It’s called learning. You should try it sometime.” He looked deep into my eyes as if he was searching for something deep in my irises, his eyebrows scrunched and nose crinkled. There was that look again… The same look that he gave me when he showed an interest in me, like he not just my teacher, but something else.
“What?” I asked as the look never vanished. My smoky voice shattered the moment.
“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about the many possible ways that you can embarrass yourself. So far, I’m at 39.” The smirk was back and he winked at me. “Okay. Let’s get serious, now. This is spontaneous identity. You were given at most a name and a home city. You are Amelia Rubin from Seattle. I won’t be with you to help. Unlike you, I am here to have fun. Now will you excuse me, Ms. Rubin, I have social life to live.” He walked toward the champagne carriers.
“Jude, don’t leave-” I started, but Jude cut me off by putting his hand on my wrist and squeezing hard enough to almost break it.
“Shut your mouth. Right here, right now, that is not my name,” he whispered harshly into my ear.
“What is your name?” I asked skeptically.
“Well,” he said in a very impressive English accent, “you’ll just have to find out.”
Time had trickled by as slow as it possibly could and I did not learn anything. He had disappeared, his best move, and I wasted every second of my life searching for him.
“Champagne?” said a voice behind me. I spun around. I recognized his face, but not his voice. Jude. I did not want to be chastised for my ‘enthusiastic-ness’ to a subject I wanted to learn, so I slipped into someone I did not want to be.
“Yes, thank you,” I said in my sweetest voice. I extended my polished hand so that he could shake it. “Amelia Rubin.” He bent down to place a tender kiss on my knuckles.
“Ross Lazarus. A pleasure to meet you Ms. Rubin.”
“Call me Amelia,” I purred, which, I noticed, surprised him.
“Alright then, Amelia. How do you find yourself here, so far away from home- or do you live here?” He took a step towards me.
“I live in Seattle, but I am actually from right at the heart of this city. I’m a newspaper reporter back in Seattle with my partner, but I don't know where he’s run off to. And you? I can hear a hint of an English accent. What brings you all the way from England?”
I was slipping into Amelia Rubin like I was actually her. Apparently, she was a 25 year old newspaper reporter here to write a column about the Rogue Ball. He was Ross Lazarus, a 32 year old businessman here with his wife from Scotland who was here to celebrate his 15th anniversary.
“Well, I must get back to the party; mustn’t you get back to your wife?” I raised one eyebrow.
“But I want to continue talking to you, sweetheart. You are ever so charming, and after all, I can only meet an attractive reporter once in a blue moon.” He took a step. Another. He wrapped his muscular arms around my waist, making creases on my ball gown. I gave him a feisty look and grabbed one of his hands from the small of my back.
I led him to a quiet courtyard, a ways away from the ball room and the Ritz Carlton. A fountain full of coins spewed fresh, clear water. There was a couple kissing on a love bench, facing the fountain. I saw a cherry red thong cascading over a hedge and I heard boisterous laughter coming from a bush close by. Jude and I sat on the edge of the fountain, me praying for some alone time with him, him with a smirk on his gorgeous face and a twinkle in his gorgeous emerald green eyes. The eyes that I couldn’t help but drown in. The eyes that were the proof that he had more than one emotion. His smirk shed off his face and the amazed look was again plastered in its place. The look that I had rarely seen in the last five years.
“What?” I whispered in my smoky voice. He brought his hand up and brushed a stray hair behind my ear. Usually, when I spoke the word, the look vanished, but this time it didn’t.
“You look beautiful, tonight, sweetheart.” He leaned forward. “You are the most beautiful person I have seen in a long time, Blake. I take advantage of you. You care about me so much, I can tell. The way you look at me, the way you talk to me. And all I am to you is a teacher, and not a good one either.” He leaned even closer and cradled my face with his rough palm. Our breaths mingled and I inhaled his vanilla and cinnamon scent. “There is one thing that I have never ever told you to your face when you were conscious.” He tilted his head to one side and put a hand of the back of my neck. This was it. Something I had wished for since I was a child. I knew he had more feelings for me than ‘student- off limits’. Our eyes were fixed on each other.”
“And what’s that?” I asked, softly, hoping not to destroy this moment.
“I am so hammered! You have no idea! Sweetheart, here are the keys. Run home and get the car.” And there goes my moment. His eyes glazed over. He tried to stand, but he was shaky on his legs.
I was completely furious with him. The one and probably only time he had shown any emotion in God knows how long. “You know what? Do it yourself. I am not your slave.” I stood up and lashed out at him at pushed him in the fountain. Bad move, because he held onto my wrist and pulled me in too. How I could be attracted to a jacka**, I did not know…

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