“There is no ‘our relationship’, Hudson” She snaps, looking fierce and adorable at the same time.
“Yeah, no shit, Princess.”
I see her eyes blaze at me, and she opens her mouth to say something but then stops herself and shakes her head instead; “We’re late for the next appearance today, let’s go.” She says curtly, before turning on her heel and storming away, leaving me standing there watching her walk away. I want to kick myself for saying shit like that to her, but really, I know why I do it. I push her away like that because I can’t let her get close; not with the shit that I’m carrying around. Fuck; I saw hell on Earth in the desert, so why the fuck can’t I deal with this girl?
13
Hudson
P A S T
“What are you drinking?” Reagan’s been giving me this weird look from across the room for the past fifteen minutes while I’ve been giving my condolences to the rest of her family. I’ve finally extricated myself from Bryce and Logan, and some Aunt who I’ve never met before, and made my way over to where she’s sitting on the bottom step of the curved staircase in the foyer.
“I’m not.”
She frowns at me as she sips on the cup of what looks like coke but smells suspiciously like something else; “Well, it’s a funeral, you probably should be.” She clearly has been, as she leans into me and holds my gaze in that slightly glazed way a good couple of drinks will do to you. She sighs and looks into her cup; “Sorry, I forg- It’s just sort of weird being back here without him, even if he was barely every here anyways.”
I nod, intimately knowing the feeling she’s describing, since it’s how I feel about everything, every day I wake up after coming back from what I did; “Yeah, I know the feeling.” She’s still staring into her cup, so I try and change the subject; “Hey so how’s art history going?”
“Renaissance Art, and I switched to Political Science.”
I can’t help but grin, knowing how much the Old Man would have smirked at that one; “Hey, that’s pretty coo-”
“Do you want to go for a walk?” She’s looking up at me with that same look on her face that I can’t quite read, thought I can see a flare of wildness there that always manages to drag me into her.
“Uh, sure?” No, bad idea, bad fucking idea asshole! I’ve been around enough girls in this exact same precursor to a mistake to know what “do you want to go for a walk” means. But when she stands and offers her hand, I’m still grabbing ahold and getting up to following her as she leads us away from the crowd. I follow her up the staircase and down the hallways, and I almost want to say some quip about ‘interesting walk, up here where your bedroom probably is’ but I don’t because that would be crass, and that’s something I’m working on.
But we don’t go to her room anyways. We end up in the huge second floor library that’s practically two stories in itself. She’s running her fingers over the spines of leather books, almost wistfully, and when she looks back over her shoulder at me and smiles, I’m lost. She opens the double doors at the end of the room to the private stone terrace and steps out.
Idiot; you fucking asshole idiot this is such a dumb fucking move.
I need to leave. What I should be doing is turning right around and heading right back to that crowd of mourners downstairs morning my friend and her Father. But instead, I follow her out into the night air.
She takes a deep breath and lets her head drop back as she stares up at the stars, and she’s so fucking beautiful and so fucking sad standing there that I want to put my arms around her and tell her I’m here, but I know I can’t and shouldn’t do that; not here, not now, not ever.
“It’s nice out here; nice and quiet.” She turns and smiles at me; “Sorry, I just couldn’t be in there anymore.”
I shrug; “I don’t really do crowds either.”
She smiles and turns, and walks over to the stone balcony on the edge of the terrace. I’m tongue tied; me, for the first time ever at a loss of what to say; “He was a great-”
“I don’t really want to talk about my Father right now.”
She turns, her hands behind her as she leans back on the balcony, looking perfectly broken and like the perfect fix all tossed into one beautiful package. She smiles at me and bites her lip in this sexy, innocent way as she slowly raises one of her hands from behind her and starts to beckon me with one finger.
No. Stop. Stop it.
But I’m ignoring that voice inside my head as I walk in slow motion towards her. It’s like I’m walking underwater, in a dream, as I put one foot in front of the other, and before I know it I’m standing right in front of her. Her eyes are huge, and blue, and looking up at me with such sadness and such determination, and I can smell the lavender of her shampoo in her hair, and before the world can move another inch across it’s starry path, I’m kissing her. It’s fire, and passion, and it’s everything I’ve ever imagined kissing someone who matters feels like, and it’s like my whole life gets hit with a reset button; like I know after this I can start clean.