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flicked briefly my way—long enough for me to see his thick brows furrowed together across his forehead like a caterpillar.
    “Why did you help me the other night, when I was sick? You didn’t have to do that. I’m sure you had more important things to do than hold my hair back as I puked confetti.” I said the words quickly, desperate to get them out. I felt antsy since Friday night. I’d spent most of my weekend pacing my house, and when I couldn’t take that any longer I hung out at Griffin’s and got buzzed on coffee.
    He chuckled at my confetti comment but quickly sobered. “I don’t know why you hate me,” his voice softened and when his eyes briefly connected with mine I was shocked to see hurt shining so clearly in them. “I’m actually a nice guy. Yeah, yeah,” he waved a hand dismissively, “I know I’ve been with a lot of girls, and never in a relationship, but…it’s easier not to get attached.” His voice had quieted so much with the last bit that I wasn’t even sure I heard him. I really wondered what he meant by that comment, but I’d already asked my one question and I didn’t want to push my luck.
    We fell into silence for the rest of the drive to the nursing home.
    I was cursing myself for not getting something from the vending machine at the library before we left. It was already five o’clock and I was used to eating dinner at this time. I didn’t dare tell Jude I was hungry. Not even when we passed a McDonald’s and my stomach rumbled like a jumbo jet.
    “Was that—?”
    “No,” I quickly cut him off. “I don’t know what that was. Maybe a plane.” I proceeded to look out the window, totally playing up the plane thing.
    He laughed, banging his fist against the steering wheel. I was surprised tears weren’t str eaking his cheeks at this point, since he was laughing so hard. Like the kind of laughter that shakes your whole body. “I will never understand why so many girls won’t admit they’re hungry.”
    I hated being compared to anyone else, especially lumped into a category as ambiguous as girls . Honestly, what did that even mean ?
    “Fine, turn around and take me to McDonald’s so you can watch me devour a Big Mac.”
    He looked at the clock on the dashboard and shrugged lightly, immediately executing a very dangerous U-turn that had illegal written all over it. “We’ve got time,” he said when he saw my open mouthed expression.
    “You could have killed us!” I cried in shock at the Duke’s of Hazzard move he’d pulled.
    “And before you got your Big Mac?” He joked. “That would’ve been a shame. But you’re okay, so it’s all good.”
    “You infuriate me,” I seethed, glaring out the window. After Graham’s wreck I was always scared to be in a car. For a long time I wouldn’t even drive. The stunt Jude had pulled startled me. I didn’t like not being in control.
    I didn’t stay mad for long though once I saw th e McDonald’s. I was too hungry to care.
    Jude pulle d his truck around in the drive-thru and placed our order. I slid over beside him and yelled into the speaker that I wanted a Hi-C and an Oreo McFlurry. When I returned to my previous position he shook his head, a small almost boyish smile lifting his lips.
    “What?” I prompted, pushing stray pieces of hair out of my eyes. It was honestly too long now, but I refused to cut it.
    “You’re going to have a severe sugar rush in an old folks home. I’m really looking forward to watching this play out.” His smile grew wider and I was sure he was probably imagining something silly—like me singing, dancing, and spinning around in wheelchairs.
    “I’m hungry,” I responded, “and no meal is complete without desert.”
    “That doesn’t explain the Hi-C,” he countered, sitting up a bit to grab his wallet out of his back pocket. “That drink is for five years old, and doesn’t it turn your tongue blue or something?”
    “Red,” I answered, “and you’re not paying for my