The second thing I notice is how clean it is. It’s spotless, reminding me of one of those “for show only” apartments.
There are a few simple paintings hung about and a big black sofa with red throw pillows sitting opposite a huge TV that takes up almost the entire front wall. You can tell the place lacks that special feminine touch, but it’s still lived-in. It’s warm, inviting, and friendly, and I can easily see Hudson spending his nights here.
“Now that you have sufficiently checked out my humble abode from the front door, would you like the grand tour?” Hudson teases.
“I’m not sure that will be necessary,” I deadpan.
“Good point.” He sweeps his arm dramatically over the room. “Welcome. This is my home away from mother’s. I know it’s not much, but it’s getting me by until the repairs on the house get done.”
“It’s cute. It fits you.”
He clutches his chest. “Cute? You mean manly. That must be what you mean. We’re pretending you said manly.”
I laugh. “Yes, manly indeed.”
Suddenly, a medium-sized black Lab comes barreling out of what I assume is the bedroom. The dog lets out one solid bark and stands itself up on my legs, begging to be pet.
“Rocky, down!”
I reach out and ruffle the hair behind the dog’s ears. “It’s okay, Hudson. Rocky’s just curious about the hot chick in your apartment. He’s not used to you bringing home such attractive dates,” I say, shooting Hudson a look, just asking him to tell me differently.
That stupid sexy smirk takes over his face again. “He’s definitely not.”
“Good answer.” I continue to get to know Rocky while Hudson heads into the kitchen.
“You want something to drink, Rae? I have Dr. Pepper, tea, apple juice, beer—no root—and water.”
As weird as I think it is for a grown, single man to have apple juice, I ask for it anyway. “Apple juice is fine.”
“Coming right up,” he says happily.
A minute later, he brings the cup of juice into the living room, taking a seat on the couch. I stand up from petting Rocky and sit down next to him.
“Rae, I have a confession to make.”
My face drops. Oh crap, here it comes. He’s married or some shit. I knew it was too good to be true!
“I can’t cook.”
I don’t remember the last time I had such an urge to punch someone, other than Clarissa on her bitchy days. I take a deep breath, exhaling sharply, and do something I don’t often manage to do: I think before I speak.
Now, I’m going to be candid here. Just because I think before I speak does not mean that whatever comes out of my mouth is going to be some profound, eloquent shit. More often than not, it won’t be. That’s not who I am, and I’m mostly okay with that.
“Asshat!” I shriek as that stupid sexy smirk covers his face again. “You had me worried for a minute. I thought you were going to tell me you were married or something, which would be rude since I totally proposed to you the other night, and since this is a date.”
I can tell he’s trying to hold in the laughter caused by my outburst. “Sorry, no, I’m not married. I think you’d secretly enjoy the sneaking around, though.”
“No way.”
“Anyway, I called some pizzas in at about five ’til. I have pepperoni, sausage, and black olives on one and plain cheese on the other. I wasn’t sure what you like.”
“I hate pizza,” I tell him with a straight face. “No, fuck. I can’t even say that in a joking manner. It feels wrong. I love pizza. I could live off it.”
“Thank God. This date was about to be over as quick as it began.”
“Glad I saved it.” I wink. “So, other than us devouring two pizzas—because I fully plan on having at least five pieces to myself—what did you have in mind for tonight?”
“Movie?”
“Ah, keeping it simple and classy. I can dig it. What movie?”
He eyes me warily. “Well, I was hoping to let you pick. That way, if you pick something horrible, I can find an excuse to get you to leave before the pizza arrives so there’s more for me while I drown my sorrows over what could have been.”
“I can see ending this date quickly is a thing for you. You that scared?”
“Nervous is more like it. I mean, what if you suck, Rae?”
I snort out a laugh. “What if you suck, Hudson?”
“I don’t think I do.”
“Well I don’t think I do either.”
“Pick a movie and we’ll see.”
I think for a second. “Step Brothers.”
“Did we just become best friends?”
My chest swells. No! No way did he just quote my favorite movie to me!
“Yep!”
“Wanna go do karate in the garage?”
“Yep!”
Hudson shakes his head, a huge grin plastered on his face. “I think it’s my turn to propose to you. I can’t believe you just did that with me!”
“Right now, I’d probably say yes. I love that movie. I think I’ve watched it at least fifty times.”
The doorbell rings, interrupting us.
“Well tonight will make fifty-one then,” he replies, walking to answer it.
His face transforms when he looks into the peephole then he swings open the door with a vibrant smile. “Gaige! What up, man? I didn’t know you were working tonight.”
Standing in the doorway is one of the guys who was at Clyde’s the night I saw Hudson there. If it wasn’t obvious at the bar, it’s obvious now—Gaige is gorgeous. I know that’s an odd description to use on a guy, but it’s true. Lit up by the hazy yellow porch light, he’s still so good-looking with his smooth features and dark hair that’s impeccably styled. Even in his pizza delivery uniform, you can tell he has solid muscle on him. It’s not overwhelming, though, and it fits his tall frame perfectly. I can’t recall what color his eyes were from the bar, but from where I’m seated they seem dark under his bushy eyebrows.
His eyes find mine over Hudson’s shoulder and he nods my way before turning back to his friend. “Yeah, I wasn’t supposed to but picked up a shift at the last minute. You know how that is. I saw your name pop up on the deliveries and snagged it. I also threw in a little discount.”
“Thanks, man. You didn’t have to, but I appreciate it,” Hudson says, setting the pizzas down on the end of the entertainment center.
He digs his wallet from his back pocket and hands some money over to Gaige. His voice is low so I can’t make out what he’s saying, but I can hear Gaige mumble “fucker” to him as he shakes his head with a scowl.
“Night, Rae. You two kids have fun,” Gaige calls over Hudson’s shoulder before he walks away.
Hudson grabs the pizzas and places them on the coffee table. He heads into the kitchen, returning quickly with plates and napkins.
“So, how do you know Gaige?” I ask, being nosy as hell.
“Next to Tucker, he’s the best friend I have. I’ve known him since we were seventeen and he started working at Jacked Up. He still works there for me and delivers pizza part-time at Harold’s for extra money,” Hudson explains as he sets up our plates and opens the pizza boxes.
I can see the love in Hudson’s eyes when he talks about Gaige. It’s sweet to see that he cares about his friends like that, a refreshing change from the men I’ve previously dated.
My most recent ex, Jared, was not one to share his feelings—with anyone. We were together for almost a year before I called it quits. He wanted all the physical attachments without the actual feelings. It worked for a while because—let’s be honest—everyone has an itch they want scratched, so I can’t say it was a total wash. I did like him a lot—more than he liked me, obviously. After several months of it, though, I felt like he was never going to reciprocate my feelings, so I broke things off about six months ago. It was an easy decision to make, and the way he just simply walked away clued me in to how little we were both invested.
&
nbsp; Hudson shows emotion, and it doesn’t seem like he’s afraid to do so. If he’s that open and honest about his relationships with his friends, I can only imagine how he is in an actual relationship. So far, he’s a catch—one I’m certain I want to hold on to.
13
Hudson
I don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful for a bathroom break in my entire life, because I desperately needed this moment to breathe.
I can’t decide if it’s cool or weird that we have the same favorite band and movie. I also can’t decide if I should be worried that we get along as well as we do, that this date is going almost too well. We click—so well that I’m certain I’m going to mess it up with the simplest thing.
I very well could. If she found out about me being a father, it could send her running for the hills. I’m not trying to hide my kid, because I’m not ashamed of being a father to a seven-year-old, but I’m not ready to tell Rae just yet. This is only our second date. What if she wants to meet her? I’m not ready for that. Joey isn’t ready for that. Joey doesn’t even know about Rae.
And then something major hits me.
I’m on a date. An actual fucking date.
I haven’t dated in…too long, not since that one random chick who walked out on the date as soon as I mentioned being a father two or so years ago. It could be why I won’t tell Rae about Joey yet.
Then again, it could be because I haven’t been involved in anything serious since I was with Jess, Joey’s mom, and that relationship was rocky at best. It wasn’t real, never was. It was held together by a thin thread that snapped and had to be tied back together over and over until we finally ran out of string.
Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t all bad. I did get Joey out of the deal, and she’s worth all the troubles in the world, but maybe I’m so nervous because I don’t know how to date. Am I supposed to kiss her? Hold her hand? Suggest making out on the couch?
Okay, the last one is just wishful thinking, but whatever.
Just be yourself, Hudson. You can do this.
“You ready to quote the most amazing movie ever for the next hour and a half or what?” Rae asks, walking down the hall, putting a stop to my pacing.
Note to self: feel free to put another point in the “Rae is a Fucking Godsend” column on my imaginary list about how awesome she is.
Why are you still talking to yourself! T Swift that shit and shake it off, dude!
I follow my own advice. “The question is, are you ready? I know this movie forward and back so I will judge you if you miss a line.”
“Bring it.” There’s no teasing in her voice.
We spend nearly two hours sitting on the floor, chowing down pizza, and quoting the movie—or at least that’s what I will tell anyone that asks, because I so didn’t do that.
Did I eat some pizza? Sure. As much I normally would have? No. Did I quote the movie? You can’t watch Step Brothers and not quote it. Was it up to my usual standards? Nope, not even close.
The reason? The incredibly beautiful girl sitting next to me. Every time she laughed, my heart skipped. Every time her lips moved along with the words, my heart skipped. Every time she tried to look over my way nonchalantly, my fucking heart skipped.
I am so completely screwed when it comes to this girl.
The room goes dark as the credits scroll.
“You suck,” Rae tells me.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, you heard me. You. Suck. You didn’t even quote half the movie! I’m judging you, Hudson. Hard.” She’s eyeing me with what I’m sure she thinks is a fierce look. Spoiler alert: it’s not. She kind of looks like an old lady squinting at her bingo cards.
“Hey! I couldn’t concentrate because every time something even remotely funny happened, someone sitting next to me would snort like a damn pig. It was incredibly distracting.” She was distracting, but not for the reasons I’m giving her.
“Yeah, right. My snorting is dead sexy and you know it. Admit it, you’re incredibly turned on right now.”
“True.”
I swear to all things holy, the look that crosses her face is one that can never be replicated because she was not expecting that answer in a million years.
She laughs and shakes her head. “Yeah, definitely wasn’t expecting that.”
I shrug. “Guess we’re even on that lack-of-filter thing.”
“For some reason, I highly doubt that.”
“You’re probably right.” Face, meet throw pillow. “Okay, I deserved that.”
“So much.” She grows quiet, staring down at the pillow now in her lap. I study her, watching as she picks at the fuzzies. God, she’s so beautiful. And smart, and funny. She’s…
Rae jerks her head up with a grin. “Have any ice cream?”
“Of course, but first, on the count of three, say your favorite flavor of ice cream.”
“One…”
“Two…” I count. Something hits me. “Pause. No proposing this time if our favorites are the same, because I’m positive I would empty my bank account and fly us to Vegas in a heartbeat if you did.”
“Deal,” she agrees. “Three!”
“Cookies and cream!” we yell simultaneously.
“Holy shit!” she shouts, clamping her hand over her mouth.
“Don’t do it! Don’t you dare do it! I will kick you out of this apartment with no ice cream!” I threaten.
Her hand is still clamped over her mouth and she’s shaking her head back and forth like she can’t believe this is happening. I know how she’s feeling, because I can barely believe it myself.
I lean in closely and slowly peel her hand away from her face.
“Do. Not. Do. It,” I whisper soft and slow, keeping my eyes locked with hers. “I’m going to take your hand and we’re going to go get some ice cream now. You’re not going to propose and I’m not going to propose, because I have this sneaking suspicion neither one of us can afford that Vegas vacay right now.”
I stand and hold my hand out. Rae looks up at me with big eyes and places her hand in mine. It’s so small compared to mine, so cute and feminine.
I could get used to holding this hand.
We make our way to the tiny kitchen where Rae posts up beside the fridge. I grab two bowls and some spoons and begin scooping out the ice cream.
“So, Hudson…” Rae starts.
I look up and smirk at her. “So, Rae.”
She tries mimicking my smirk and fails miserably, but it’s still cute as hell. “Tell me about yourself.”
“Because that’s not completely cliché.”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine. Tell me three things then: your favorite thing about yourself, what your favorite memory is from your childhood, and if you could meet anyone—living, dead, or fictional—who it would be. Go.”
I’m a little thrown by the questions. They weren’t exactly what I was expecting, because if I had just told her about myself, I wouldn’t have touched on any of that. Granted, they aren’t completely out there, but the answers to the questions have potential to be…revealing.
I finish scooping out the ice cream and we sit down at the small two-person kitchen table I have. Rae’s waiting patiently, taking small bites of her ice cream. I take one and let it melt in my mouth, thinking on how to answer.
“The first answer is easy. I have a killer set of abs.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” she says, her cheeks turning a violent shade of red.
“Smart woman,” I tease. “Really, I’d have to say…my ability to adjust is my favorite thing about myself. I’ve been thrown some…curveballs, and I’ve managed to catch them every time. Quite impressive if you ask me.”
“There’s a story or two there,” she says, curiosity laced into her words.
“There is.” I nod and leave it at that.
She accepts the answer as is and takes another bite of her ice cream. “Next.”
“Probably the summer before I turned seventeen. Things were si
mple then. We took a week-long vacation in Herring Cove.”
Rae’s eyes just about pop right out of her head because it’s well known that Herring Cove is a swank place. We’re talking thousands of dollars just for the townhome we stayed in. Crazy, yes, but so beautiful.
“That’s…that’s…” she stammers.
I laugh. “I know. It was amazing. My parents saved up for a long time for that one week of pure bliss. We passed up Christmas, birthdays, and Mother’s and Father’s Day for two years just for that short vacation. It was worth every penny too.”
“Why is it your favorite memory though?”
“We were happy. Everyone was alive and smiling. It’s the last good time I had with my family and Jess—my high school sweetheart—and I’m so thankful I got it.” That was the summer before shit hit the fan, the summer before Joey happened.
Rae’s quiet, and I wonder if I broke some weird rule about mentioning an ex on a date.
“You said alive. Your dad?” she inquires, a frown creasing her brows.
I put my spoon down and nod. “Heart attack. Two and a half years ago.”
She reaches over and places her delicate hand on top of mine. “I’m so sorry, Hudson.”
I can feel her words down to my bones, the sincerity seeping into me.
“Thank you. It sucks you’ll never to get to meet him. You two would have gotten along famously. He’s not too good with the filter thing either.”
“If he was anything like you, I’m sure he was a cool dude.” She gives a gentle smile. “Okay, time to answer question three now.”
“That one is hard. I really have no idea. Living, dead, or fictional, huh? I think I may have to go with Crowley from Supernatural just so I can high-five him for all his brilliant one-liners. Cheesy, I know.”
She’s gaping at me, and I know it’s because I just came off as a huge dork.
“Okay, now you’re scaring me, Rae. Do you not know what Supernatural is?”
She scoffs. “How dare you insult my knowledge of amazing television! I’m just a little surprised you watch it. It’s one of my favorite shows. I watch it religiously.”
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