Bad Boy Judah

t w e n t y t w o

A cloud of smoke freezes in time, floating above my head. If I could move, I would. I roll onto my back and try to count the days.

Judah sits at the edge of the bed, smoking restlessly. His thumbs text rapidly on his phone. I want to ask the question, but my lips are sewn shut. He knows I'm awake, but he doesn't pay me any attention. So, I jump off the bed and walk into the bathroom for a long shower.

I begin to think of how long I've been with him.

My reflection looks messy. Before I can pull the screen and turn on the hot water, Judah walks in.

My shoulders lock into place. He makes me feel so many ways—I can never get used to him.

"What?" I voice, faintly.

"How about Hawaii?" he asks.

I don't understand. He walks in and steps in my bubble.

"Hawaii what?" I knit my brows together.

"You want to go, right?" he says, popping a toothbrush into his mouth.

"Why—are we going... What?" I stutter.

I stare at Judah brush his teeth and rinse his mouth. He runs his hand through his hair and looks at me with a growing smirk. My mouth hangs open, not knowing what to respond.

"Hurry up," he throws, threatening to bite me with his pearl white teeth. "Flight's in two hours."

♠♠♠

How are we walking in the airport—on our way to Hawaii? I'll never know. Judah has my hand, pressing my knuckles like their buttons with different functions. I stare at the polished floors and polished people walking about it. The big TV screens with green writing of departure times strike my eyes.

We walk to the check in desk and in a quick move, the lady hands us tickets. There's a tinge of excitement in my throat. With this guy, anything is possible. Anything.

Judah says we don't need to bring anything. Yet, the clothes he got me are from high end brands. I still packed little things in a red Yves Saint Laurent shoulder bag. I wear Michael Kors flip-flops and grey jersey dress with pockets—I ignore the brand.

I like Judah in his baggy sweat pants and his black t-shirt. I watch him brush his hair back with his fingers. I notice a tattoo behind his ear for the first time, though I can't read it. It reminds me how I still don't know who he is. But, whatever I do know hypnotizes me completely.

He takes such long strides that I have to jog by his side.

People with eyes see a small girl with good intentions next to a tall unforgiving man with no cares for life and a rebellious shadow. They must think—how could this little angel child be with the devil's spawn? Poor child, she doesn't know what she's gotten herself into? We should save her from this model monster!

Judah and I get to the waiting area fifteen minutes before boarding. As we sit, Judah leans his shoulder onto mine. I get the chance to take his passport from his hand. I quickly open it, expecting to find treasure in it.

I see his face from two years ago or so. His hair was much shorter. I giggle at his bland pale face staring back. Judah scowls, trying to snatch it back, but I prevail.

"Wait," I tell him, reading his name over and over.

Judah Alexander McAuthor. Date of birth says January 21, 1992. He's travelled to many countries, numerous times.