Flirting With Love

by Clara Stone

  I don’t know what lays ahead for Hudson and me. But at this point, I know I’m not ready to take the next step with him. Though, when I do give the one thing that’s truly mine, I know it’ll be because I want to. Mom doesn’t have to worry about that.

  With a sigh, I tiptoe back through the living room. Hudson’s still sleeping, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm. I head up to my room and directly into the bathroom. I freshen up, checking myself in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed, my hair is all kinds of tangled, and I’m grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. I brush my hair until it’s back to its normal look. I leave it down and run my hand over it, remembering how Hudson had done the same until I fell asleep last night.

  Fifteen minutes later, I step out of my bathroom, freshly showered and changed into a pair of shorts and a tank. Instead of my boots from the night before, I pull out my favorite Skechers.

  It isn’t until I’m walking down the hall, heading back to the living room, that I remember Vicki crashed in the extra room for the night. I spin around and head toward the small guest room, finding it completely empty. Panic rises through me.

  “Vicki?” I call, running downstairs to the small kitchen. “Vicki!” I yell a little louder. When I don’t hear a response, I sprint out of the house and across the street. Footsteps follow behind me, but I don’t bother to look. I know it’s Hudson.

  I bang on the chipped, wooden green door. “Open up!” I yell, but no one answers.

  “Blake. What’s going on?” Hudson is beside me, his hand on my shoulder, any trace of sleep gone.

  I ignore him. I swear to God, if Vicki came back to this place . . . . God, what am I go to do with her!

  “God damn it, Vicki!” Tears roll down my cheeks. I can’t. I just can’t watch her waste her life like this.

  Then suddenly, the door swings open. A man stands before us, having obviously just barely pulled his pants on before opening the door. His upper body is full of tattoos and a handful of scars decorate his chest, arms, and face.

  Trey.

  “Where is she?” I demand, stepping into his space.

  But he doesn’t budge. Instead, he leans against the doorframe and crosses his legs at the ankle, assessing me.

  “I don’t know who you’re looking for, sweetheart. But I bet I can make you forget all about them. I bet you’ve never been spanked before.”

  I cringe for a second, as the powerful urge to bitch-slap him comes over me. But I force myself to swallow the anger, for Vicki’s sake. Hudson’s raw energy slams into me. The way his hand hovers over my lower back, almost touching, but not, I know he wants to jump in between me and this asshat. But he doesn’t. And I respect him all the more for it.

  “What the hell did you do to her?” I’m screaming now.

  Everything from my past, the abusive relationship I went through with my own father, comes crashing into me. It took my mom more courage than I could possibly imagine to leave him, to run away and get a restraining order. I’ve been trying to tell Vicki to do the same. To tell her that I understand what it’s like to be in an abusive relationship. But she just won’t listen. She thinks it’s just a one-time thing, because her dad apologizes for her stepbrother. But it doesn’t matter. Men like my father, like her stepfather, like Trey, don’t change.

  “I didn’t do nothing she didn’t want done,” he replies.

  “I swear to God, Trey—”

  “Blake?” Vicki steps into view, coming out of the shadows at the back of the hallway.

  I don’t think twice as I cross the threshold, stepping into their home. I look at her, assessing, looking for any new wounds, or cuts, or bruises. When I don’t see anything, I relax a little. “What are you doing here?” I demand, anger and indignation filing edges I hadn’t intended into the question.

  Her eyes dart to Trey behind me, then back. They turn cold. “What the hell are you doing here?” she asks. “Didn’t I tell you to get the fuck out of my life?”

  I’m shocked. I don’t think I could have been more stunned if I’d been slapped with a bucket of ice to the face. “Vicki—”

  “Get out, Blake,” she sneers. But something in the way her lower lip trembles tells me she doesn’t want me to leave. “Get out, and don’t ever come back.”

  “I’m not going to leave you with this monster.” I fight back. “I promised, Vicki. I won’t let him hurt you anymore.”

  The way she presses her lips together signals that she appreciates what I’m doing for her, but her eyes dart to Trey. I turn around and follow her gaze. Trey’s looking at me in a way that sends chills up my spine. A way that tells me if he ever catches me alone, I’m his to do with as he pleases.

  From the corner of my eye, I see Hudson’s hands turn into hard fists, his knuckles going white. “Blake,” he calls, his voice strong. He extends his hand, palm up, stretching toward me, silently urging me to get out of this place. But I can’t. I can’t leave Vicki.

  “We should go,” Hudson says, his chin jerking toward my house. I turn to Vicki. She looks scared shitless, but I know now isn’t the time to pick a fight, not with Trey around. I silently promise her I’ll fix this. That I won’t let her be trapped in this hellhole for long.

  Hudson takes my hand in his and starts to walk me down the steps.

  “That’s right. Move that ass, sweetheart. Tease me with it. One of these days—”

  Before I know what’s happened, Hudson has let go of me. He swivels around and rams his fist into Trey’s face. Trey falls to the ground, wailing and cursing.

  “Shut your fucking mouth, before I tear it apart and shove it up your ass,” Hudson warns. “You lay a hand on her, and I promise you, I fucking promise you, I’ll break your hands.”

  With that, he turns around, his usually calm face furious as he reaches me. I look at him, shocked. Hudson, the boy that melts my heart with words and kisses, just blew my heart to pieces.

  My knight in shining armor.

  My Hudson.

  TWO WEEKS.

  That’s how long it’s been since I saw Vicki trapped in Trey’s clutches. I thought maybe I’d be able to talk to her once I saw her at school. But she hasn’t been. When I told Hudson about wanting to go across the street again, he made me promise that I wouldn’t unless he was there. I don’t need to be asked twice. Truth be told, Trey creeps me out, the way he watches me like I’m a piece of meat he’s waiting to ripen before slaughter.

  But having Hudson with me makes me feel safe. And today’s the day. We’re about to make another trip across the street, in the hopes that Vicki might be willing to talk finally.

  “Ready?” I ask Hudson. He’s leaning against the wall next to my front door. He swings Jags’s key from his pointer finger and catches it before flipping it into the air again. It’s a telling gesture I’ve seen him do often—it means he’s about to do something he’s not one hundred percent certain about.

  I cross in front of the couch and walk over to him, running my hand up and down his arm in a soothing gesture. “What is it?”

  He closes his fist around the key and looks up. He sighs and shoves his fingers through his hair, sending his perfect locks into messy disarray. “You can’t help someone that isn’t willing to get help, Blake. Vicki—”

  I step back, dropping my hand. Hurt crosses his features, but he stands tall. I know that look. It’s his look of determination. Determination to keep me safe; I saw it the day he punched Trey in the face.

  “Don’t you think I know that?” I say, my voice small. “But I can’t. I can’t just let it go when I know the kind of things he does to her.”

  “Blake, please. You know I’d do anything for you, but . . . but I don’t want to mess up, somehow, and have you end up getting hurt.” Guilt. That’s the only thing I can think of. He isn’t angry, or disappointed, or sad. He’s feeling guilty. Because he thinks he can’t protect me.

  Oh, Hudson.

  I can’t look at him. If I don’t go to her, she’ll think
I’ve given up. And I might as well do just that if . . . .

  “I promised her I wouldn’t say anything to anyone.”

  “I know, firecracker.” He steps toward me and places his hands over my shoulders. I look up into his eyes, so full of understanding and support. “But you’ve been trying to help her for the last two weeks. All she’s done is shut the door in your face before you can even get a word out.” He pulls me into a hug. “If we don’t take other precautions . . .”

  I know what he’s saying. And I’m starting to think that he’s right. We are limited in our options. Sometimes, keeping someone safe is more important than keeping a promise.

  Hudson lets out a sigh and rubs my back, giving me the strength to talk. To tell him the things I’ve kept inside for Vicki’s sake, keeping a promise that will slowly kill her.

  “Ever since her mom died, her stepfather and stepbrother have been monsters. Well, her stepbrother more than her dad, who just gets shit-faced drunk and orders her around. When she didn’t listen, he used to throw stuff at her. One time, he starved her for two days because she refused to let him sell her mom’s ring.”

  Hudson’s fingers stiffen against my back for a second before he continues his soothing caress, silently encouraging me to go on.

  “But the worst has come from her stepbrother. He’s always been a troubled child, you know?” I ask, not that I expect him to respond. He does, though. He nods his head, perched on top of mine. “But after her mom died, he got worse. Much worse. He started getting physical with her, abusing her, touching her inappropriately, burning her with cigarettes.” I pull back from his hug and look up, tears ready to fall. “I saw them, the very first time I met her. The scars. She was quick to cover them up, but not quick enough. A few days later, thankfully, he got busted for petty theft, public nuisance, and fighting. I don’t know the details of it. Vicki didn’t like talking about him.

  “Anyway, when he recently left on a ‘job opportunity,’ Vicki was relieved. I never really got the chance to meet him until that day you punched him. I’d only seen him from afar, here and there. But now that he’s back, he’s gotten even more violent. All those times he broke into our house? It was just to get to her, and he didn’t care what was in the way. Vicki was so scared every time she ran over here. She’s talked about running away . . . but then, whenever I bring it up, she refuses to leave or even file a complaint. I don’t know what she’s afraid of, Hudson. Vicki promised me she’d never go back again. But then she did.”

  I’m thankful that Hudson stays quiet, listening. Surprisingly, talking about all of this helps. I feel some of the pressure weighing on me start to lift.

  “And now . . .” I sniffle, willing the tears I didn’t realize I was crying to stop. “Now, she’s with him again. What changed? What did he do or say to make her change her mind?”

  “I don’t know,” Hudson says. “I really don’t know, Blake.”

  “I wish there was a way to just click my heels and send him to Hell.”

  “You could file the complaint against him,” Hudson suggests.

  I pull back from his embrace and look up at him, confused.

  “Come here.” He takes my hand and walks me to the couch. He sits and tugs me down with him. I go willingly. He leans back against the corner of the sofa and makes room for me to snuggle into him. I take advantage, getting comfortable, my back to his chest. He wraps his arms around me, and I hug them tighter, needing to feel safe, protected. He kisses my temple.

  “So, the way I see it, you have two options. One, go to your school counselor and tell them why Vicki’s been missing from school. They’ll launch an investigation into Trey and his dad. They’re obligated to . . .”

  That’s a bad idea. I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off, continuing:

  “Or two, you can file an anonymous complaint about Trey yourself. You could pretty much accuse him with any number of things, which would at least turn the right kind of eyes on him. With that hot-headed behavior and a past like his, I’m certain he’s done something that would get him thrown back in jail. Maybe even long enough for Vicki to live in peace until she turns eighteen. Either of those options pretty much ensures that she’s safe.”

  And that she’d hate me. I scowl, grateful my back is to him and he can’t see my face. I’m so torn. I promised her I wouldn’t interfere. What does it say about me, if I break that? Even for as good a reason as saving her? I’d lose her in the process.

  “Childhood promises, made with innocent minds, can’t be always fulfilled, firecracker. If you think about it, you made that promise to keep her safe. And that’s exactly what you’d be doing.”

  He’s right. Of course, he’s right. I don’t have to dig deep to know that. I tilt my head back to look at him. I can tell from the set of his jaw and flicker in his eye that he’s hell-bent on keeping me safe, that he’d put himself in harm’s way for me.

  I roll off Hudson and get to my feet, placing my hands on my hips.

  “Okay.” I sigh. “I’ll do it. First thing Monday morning, I’ll walk into my guidance counselor’s office and tell her about Vicki.”

  He grins, a sort of pride filling his features. “Atta girl.” He pulls me back onto the sofa, planting a soft kiss on my mouth. “You’re doing the right thing.”

  I know I am. I feel it in every one of my bones. This is the right thing. But still, as all right things go, it’s a hard choice to make. Now that my mind is made up, I need something to simmer down the guilt that seems intent on clawing its way to the surface.

  “Hudson . . .” I say, placing my hands on his chest and pressing my lips to his, softly, before pulling back and flashing him a suggestive smirk. He laughs that boyish laugh of his as his mouth comes back to meet mine.

  BLAKE SHOVES HER fingers through my hair, using the tips of her nails to scrape. God, that feels amazing. I moan into her mouth. She’s driving me mad. I want more; I want to kiss her harder. So I do.

  Given what we just talked about, I shouldn’t be this turned on, but hell, I’m not a fucking saint. My chest rises and falls with the excitement, the charge sizzling between us, making me bolder. More greedy.

  She slowly lies back on the sofa, taking me with her, her arms wrapped tightly around my neck. Her legs fall apart, making room for me. I take the invitation to get closer and press my lower half against the apex of her thighs. I’m coiled so tightly, I can’t tell the difference between black and white. Right and wrong.

  “God, Blake.” My voice is rough, pleading almost.

  She inhales deeply through her nose and tightens her arms around me, closing the last few strands of space between us. My right hand snakes up and under her shirt, toward the outline of her bra. Instead of pulling away, she pushes up into my caress. I let my fingers play along the edge, teasingly, waiting for permission.

  “It’s okay,” she whispers between kisses, her voice hoarse. “It’s okay.”

  I pull my mouth off hers and trace my nose along her cheek, then down her jaw, following the trail of goose bumps that shiver across her perfect skin. My heart beats fast and heavy, ready to burst out of my chest. A visible shudder courses through her.

  I look up, boyish giddiness spiking as I nip at the spot that connects the curve of her neck to her jaw. Her eyes shut as a noise slips from between her lips—a deep, long moan.

  She raises her hips to meet mine and gasps, “Hudson.”

  My hand shakes nervously as I slip my fingers under her bra, curving around her right breast. I run a thumb over her nipple and cover her mouth with mine. This feeling is so new and different, like I’ve never done this before.

  “You’re so soft,” I whisper, trailing my fingertips over the smooth skin filling in my hand. “And so fucking perfect.”

  She giggles into my mouth, her shoulders shaking.

  I pull my head back and raise an eyebrow. “Did I say something funny?”

  “Oh, God.” She continues to laugh, hard. One of her legs comes up,
resting alongside my hip.

  “‘You’re so soft.’ ” She repeats my words, cracking up further.

  I peel myself off her before holding my hand out and helping her to a sitting position. I stop the sheepish smile that’s threatening to burst from creeping onto my face. It’s been a while since I made out with a girl like this, but seriously, that’s the lamest thing I’ve said in a long time. Even I know it. It’s like, when I’m with her, my brain cells dissipate and I spit out whatever comes to mind like an idiot.

  What is she doing to me?

  She wipes tears off her cheeks. “I always wondered what people say to each other when they make out.”

  I cock my eyebrow, feeling amused. “And my appreciation of your boob being soft didn’t meet your expectations?”

  She falls back and laughs even harder. “‘Boob,’ ” she mimics.

  “I’m starting to feel a little jealous, Blake,” I say, pulling my features together into a mock scowl.

  “Jealous? Of what, exactly?”

  “That someone else has had a better way of appreciating your . . .” I wave my hand over her boobs.

  “Aww, Hudson.” She pushes upright and scoots so that she’s sitting on my lap. She cups my face. “Don’t be jealous.” She presses her lips to mine.

  I wrap my arms around her, pulling her body flush against me.

  “You’re the first boy to ever make it this far. I swear.”

  “I am?”

  She nods. “Cross my heart.”

  “So, you’ve never . . .”

  “Never,” she confesses. Then nothing. She chews on her bottom lip, like she’s waiting for something from me. I’m about to explode in awe. I haven’t come across many girls that are still virgins by the time they’re seniors, let alone, never gone to second base. Hell, I’ve done more than second base myself, even though I’m still technically a virgin.

  She suddenly looks away, a deep blush pooling in her cheeks, like she’s embarrassed or afraid of what I think. But then she laughs, throwing her head back and giggling. What changed? Is she simply trying to draw the attention away from her admission?