Running with Scissors (14 page)

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strict about everything, and freaked the fuck out over safety.

And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but rules and warnings

are the fastest way to make Connor rebel.”

A laugh burst out of A.J. “Oh my God. You don’t say.”

Jude chuckled. “So you
have
noticed, eh?”

“Ya think?”

They exchanged glances, and both laughed.

A.J. smirked. “So you’re serious. The name is literal.”

“It’s literal. You ever seen Connor without his shirt on?”

A.J. quickly sobered. “Uh . . . is that a trick question?”

“No, no. But, I mean, he takes it off onstage sometimes,

and you guys have roomed together, so . . .”

“Right. Yeah, I’ve seen him. But not like—”

“It’s okay.” Jude smiled. “Relax. I wasn’t making any

accusations.” Though now he was suddenly imagining Connor

and A.J. together, and that mental image was definitely one

he’d have to save for later. He cleared his throat. “Have you

seen his scar?” He tapped just below his rib cage on the left

side. “Right there?”

A.J. snorted. “Oh my God.”

“He was being a little shit in class one day, just to mess

with our teacher, and grabbed a pair of those huge scissors

off her desk. He started running around the room and

taunting her.”

“Let me guess—he tripped?”

“Twelve stitches later . . .”

A.J. grimaced. “Ouch.”

“It was pretty nasty. So from then on, anytime one of us

thought about doing something stupid, the rest would warn

them against running with scissors. Drove Connor crazy for

a while, but . . .” He shrugged. “He got in on it too. Then in

high school, when we started the band, we couldn’t think of a

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name, but one night, Vanessa did . . . something. I don’t even

remember now. And Richie was like, ‘Damn it, Vanessa. Stop

running with scissors.’ And we all just kind of paused and

looked at each other, and we started laughing, and that was

that. We never even considered another name.”

“What did Connor think?”

“He thought it was hilarious. And I guess it was until

it . . .” His humor faded. “Until it kind of became a self-

fulfilling prophecy. Connor and I are both especially good at

doing stupid shit and, well . . .”

“You know this doesn’t even count as running with scissors,
right?”
Shiloh’s voice echoed in the back of his mind from the night he’d walked out.
“This is taking the fucking scissors and
straight up stabbing yourself in the foot.”

“Or stabbing the rest of us,”
Vanessa had added coldly.

He shook himself. “Anyway. Yeah. That’s where we got

our name.”

A.J. watched him for a moment, as if he could see

through to the guilty conscience and those memories. “Well,

everybody grows up eventually, right?”

Jude pulled out another cigarette. “One can hope.”

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was somewhere between asleep and awake when

a.j.movement beneath his bunk brought him all the

way back into reality.

Directly below him, Jude’s mattress creaked softly. A.J.

heard a crinkle, and then bare feet padding on the fake

linoleum. A moment later, the bus door opened, and the

change in air pressure jolted him.

That was weird. Aside from that first night in the motel

back in whatever city Jude had joined them in, he didn’t

usually get up in the middle of the night to smoke. Not unless

he and Connor had been at each other’s throats or something.

The evening had been pretty peaceful, but Jude had been

quiet ever since their conversation about the band name and

his past with Connor. Shit. Maybe A.J. had touched a nerve

or two.

He eased himself down onto the floor, careful not to wake

Richie or Connor.

As he made his way out of the sleeping area, he told

himself he only wanted to make sure Jude was all right.

On some level, he might’ve even believed that was why he

was heading out, and that it wasn’t an excuse to have another

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moment alone with Jude. Because God knew he needed to

tempt himself like that.

Before he could talk himself out of it—not that he really

tried—he slipped on his shoes and stepped off the bus.

As A.J. quietly shut the door behind him, Jude looked up.

Eyes fixed on A.J., he turned his head and blew out a cloud of

smoke. “Oh, hey. Coming to keep me company again?”

Wishing we could keep each other company in—

“Just couldn’t sleep.”

“I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“Not really.” He hugged himself against the desert chill. “I

don’t sleep very well on the road.”

“I know the feeling.” Jude put the cigarette between his

lips, and the end glowed orange as he took a drag. Goose

bumps prickled A.J.’s neck. God, those lips . . .

He shook himself and looked away. This was definitely

a bad idea. Jude was nothing but walking temptation, and

indulging in these stolen moments alone and staring at Jude’s

mouth or his hands or his eyes did nothing to keep him from

wanting to take that temptation further.

He cleared his throat. “I just needed some air anyway,

I guess.” As soon as he said it, he cringed. “Sorry . . .”

Jude laughed. “Don’t worry about it. Connor isn’t the

only one who needs some fresh air once in a while.” He held

up his cigarette. “Maybe not as fresh as you’d hoped, right?”

“It’s all right. I’m upwind.”

“Fair enough.” Jude put the cigarette between his lips

again. “I really should give these things up, but . . .”

“Easier said than done?”

“When you’re in a bus full of people who can’t stand

you?” Jude held up the cigarette like he was offering a toast.

“You’d better believe it.”

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A.J. shifted his weight. “That’s a bit of a stretch, don’t you

think?”

“Not really, no.” He tapped the cigarette and watched

the glowing coals drift down toward the pavement. “It’ll get

better, though. Hopefully.” He glanced at A.J. “I’m doing

what I can.”

“It’s not you that’s the problem.”

Jude held his gaze and then chuckled as he brought his

cigarette back up. “Let me guess—Connor?”

“Ya think?”

“Surprise, surprise.” Bitterness laced Jude’s tone.

A.J. cocked his head. “It’s hard to picture the two of you

dating.”

Jude took a long drag, and as he let out the smoke, he

shrugged. “Tell me about it. But we did, off and on. And off.

And on.” He waved his hand, sending a few sparks flying from

the cigarette. “And off again.”

“That must’ve been tough. Any time I’ve seen you two in

the same room, you look like you’re ready to kill each other.”

You look like you wouldn’t mind going in there and choking him
right now.
“It’s just hard to imagine you ever even liked each other.”

Jude laughed bitterly. “I’d show you some pictures from

the old days, but it’d be about as depressing as looking at a

divorced couple’s wedding album.”

A.J. winced.

Jude’s eyebrows rose. “Sorry. Did I . . . I mean, was that . . .”

“Nothing.” A.J. gestured dismissively. “Don’t worry about

it.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know. I’m the one who

brought it up anyway. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You know how dating in high school is nonstop

drama? And everything’s a crisis?”

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A.J. nodded.

“Connor and I just . . . didn’t stop with that after

graduation.” Jude’s eyes grew distant. “He’s a good guy. He

really is. And I’m sure he’s not happy to see me every damned

day. I just hope it’ll get easier as we go. For everyone.”

“Me too.” A.J. wasn’t as optimistic about that as he

wanted to be. This thing between Connor and Jude seemed

like a powder keg. Or like one of those bombs that had fallen

during World War II and sat there festering for decades until

something came along and inadvertently set it off.

As the streetlights illuminated Jude’s dark eyes, and

as the cigarette smoldered between his long fingers, A.J.

swallowed hard. Something told him that sneaking out

in the middle of the night to spend a moment with Jude,

exchanging those looks backstage, letting his mind quietly

entertain the not-so-quiet things he’d like to do—well, he

might as well drive a bulldozer through a minefield and

hope nothing blew up.

He knew this was a bad idea. And yet, here he was.
Again
.

And as Jude put out his cigarette and lit up another, A.J.

made no move to go back inside, not even to get away from

the chilly night.

Apparently he was a better fit in this band than he’d

previously thought.

Because standing out here, letting himself indulge in

fantasies he had no business having, knowing he risked

upsetting the tenuous peace within the band . . .

So this is what running with scissors feels like.

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he New Mexico scenery whipped past. Jude sat in one of

t the armchairs, staring out the window and wondering

why the hell he couldn’t relax. He should’ve been asleep,

snoring away like Richie and Vanessa, who were racked out on

the couch. Even Connor had dozed off after they’d stopped

for lunch.

For as little sleep as Jude had gotten, and with three

people sleeping nearby, he should not have been this

wide-awake. But he was. He was restless, just like he’d been

when he’d gone out for a smoke because lying under A.J. like

that had been driving him insane. And then A.J. had
come

outside
with him, and the nicotine had stopped doing a damn bit of good. Two cigarettes later, they’d gone back inside, and he still hadn’t been able to sleep.

Good thing they weren’t playing tonight, but he’d better

be well rested tomorrow, or he was liable to nod off while they were onstage or—

Tap. Tap. Tap-tap.

Jude’s head snapped up.

Tap. Tap. Tap-tap.

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His gaze slid toward A.J.’s fingers, which were tapping

out the rhythm on the armrest. Their eyes met, and a subtle

vibration buzzed in Jude’s fingertips.

Because they weren’t tapping.

Anymore.

He glanced down at his hand, wondering how long he

must’ve been drumming without realizing it. Before he’d

stopped, anyway.

Tap. Tap. Tap-tap.

Jude relaxed, and he started tapping his fingers again,

fal ing back into a rhythm that felt familiar. Had he been

drumming this cadence before? He couldn’t remember—it

was usually an unconscious thing. Nervous energy always

seemed to come out as percussion.

Fuck. A.J. had interrupted his stress-relief cigarette last

night—clueless to the fact that he’d been the reason Jude

had needed to smoke it in the first place—and now that he’d

driven Jude to this outlet, he was joining in too.

And yet, it didn’t feel intrusive. In its own way, it was a

relief.

You’re here. You’re fucking with my blood pressure, but I can
breathe now. What the hell?

A.J. grinned. He sped up, and Jude’s rhythm adapted

naturally. Then Jude added a crescendo, tapping harder, and

A.J. complemented him effortlessly. This was one of the

things Jude loved about music—the wordless dance, the way

two musicians fed off each other, responded to each other,

built on each other’s sound with nothing to guide them but

the music itself and some sort of innate telepathy.

A.J.’s head bobbed slightly in time with the beat, and Jude

realized he was doing the same thing. They were completely

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in sync, shutting out the world around them and focusing on

sound, on tempo, on each other.

A thought nearly froze his hands in place—would he

and A.J. be this responsive and adaptable if they were in bed

together?

Oh God.

He shuddered, breaking his rhythm for a split second.

A.J. gave him such a wicked grin, Jude wondered for a second

if he’d spoken his thoughts aloud. Maybe A.J. could just read

him that well—hearing his sexual fantasies as clearly as he

heard his finger-tapping.

He changed the rhythm slightly, turning the first three

beats into a triplet and adding a couple of longer beats at the end. A.J. grinned again—
challenge accepted
—and met him

tap for tap. Jude couldn’t help grinning himself. Their eyes

locked, and their fingers moved in perfect time, and—

“For
fuck’s
sake,” Connor grumbled, shifting on the couch.

“Is that
really
necessary?”

A.J.’s hand stopped immediately, and he jerked it back as

if the armrest had suddenly turned hot. “Sorry.”

Connor muttered something Jude didn’t understand.

Jude rolled his eyes. Connor was always doing that,

talking shit under his breath as if he hoped somebody would

call him out. He’d been doing it since he was a little kid, and like everyone else in the band, Jude knew better than to take

the bait. Instead, he met A.J.’s gaze, and they both shrugged.

What can you do?

His fingertips still vibrated, and his muscles itched to

start moving again, but the moment had passed. A.J. looked