“I missed you, Row,” he grinned crookedly and planted a kiss on my cheek.
“You saw me yesterday,” I replied, running my fingers through my hair after he’d set me down.
“So? I still missed you,” he smirked, striding beside me.
“I didn’t miss you,” I looked up at him, fighting a smile.
“What?” He gasped, putting a hand to his chest. “How could you not miss me? Most women wished I missed them, and here you are wounding me for professing my feelings. Nice, Rowan. Real nice.”
“Oh please,” I laughed, adjusting the straps of my backpack as we crossed from the parking lot onto the sidewalk. “We both know you were banging some girls brains out last night.”
“True,” he winked. “Could’ve been you,” he chuckled.
I pretended to gag. “No thanks.”
“Are you a lesbian or something?” He joked. “I’ve never met a straight female that didn’t want to hop on this and take a ride,” he stopped walking and rolled his hips in a vulgar manner.
“Not a lesbian,” I shook my head, “just not into man whores.”
“Baby, for you I’d change my ways,” he threw an arm over my shoulder and hugged me against him. A girl passed us and glared at me. She had to be one of Jude’s many conquests.
“And ruin our wonderful friendship? I think not,” I removed his arm from my shoulders.
“That’s true,” he scratched his stubbled jaw. “I really value our friendship.”
“Sure you do,” I rolled my eyes, heading into the building.
“I do,” he assured me, his voice suddenly serious.
We headed into the same classroom and he sat down in the seat beside me. It amazed me that Jude—womanizer, playboy, Jude—was studying to be a nurse. I’d think he’d be too selfish for that. But while I might joke about his slutty ways, Jude was a nice guy…to me at least. He was also caring and compassionate. Once, when we’d been working at a hospice, I’d seen him spend an hour just talking to one of the older ladies.
Jude propped his legs on the empty chair in front of him, crossing his legs at the ankle. Our classrooms were auditorium style, which I hated because that meant that the table attached to my chair was less than adequate workspace.
“Professor Hamilton is going to be pissed if he comes in here and sees your shoes on the seat,” I warned.
“I don’t give a fuck,” he shrugged, eyeing one of the girls in the classroom. When she caught his gaze he licked his lips suggestively.
I kicked the legs of his chair and he glared at me. “What the fuck, Rowan?”
“Sorry, I couldn’t control myself,” I shrugged innocently. “I have muscle spasms.”
“Yeah, right,” he rolled his eyes and let his feet drop to the ground. “You disturbed my mojo.”
“Your mojo?” I raised a brow.
“Yeah,” he grinned. “Are you jealous or something?”
“Hardly,” I propped my head on my hand, wishing the professor would hurry up and get here already, “I was trying not to throw up in my mouth.”
He leaned back in the chair, his eyes sparkling with barely contained laughter. “You amuse me.”
“Is that why you keep me around?” I replied. I was used to this banter with Jude. It’s how our strange friendship worked.
“I keep you around because you’re hot and it makes other guys think I’m not checking out their girlfriends,” he said with a straight face and I knew he was being serious.
“Thanks, that makes me feel really good,” I shook my head, trying not to laugh.
“Aw, Row,” he brushed my long hair over my shoulder, “you know I love you.”