I’m not sure who she’s trying to convince harder here, me or her, but it fucking sucks either way.
“We were horny and sad and drunk and just made- well, almost made a terrible mistake.”
I’m nodding at her words, even though every single fiber of my being is raging otherwise inside.
“I- I just wanted to get that out so we can be in the same place together without biting each other’s heads off or there being this sort of-”
“Sexual tension?”
She blushes as I say the word, and it’s so cute and so fucking predictable that I’m grinning at her.
“I- I just wanted to say that now, before anything else popped up.”
“Well I’ve only got the one, you know.”
Her face goes bright red, and I can’t help but grin even wider.
“So, there’s nothing more to talk about then, right? No sexual tension or anything like that? We’re just doing our jobs and just working together without anything like that lingering?”
“Sure.” I say thinly. “Listen, Reagan, I’m out of your hair tonight anyways, so you can relax.”
“Oh, you are?” She looks quickly up at me, her expression hard to read.
“Yeah, I’ve got two guys coming over to watch you instead.”
“Wait, two strangers?” Her voice quavers for a second, her eyes looking nervous.
“They’re good guys, Reagan. I think they’ll watch you better than I c-”
“Hudson I don’t want two strangers.”
I sigh in exasperation. “Well what the hell do you want, Red? Because you don’t want these guys watching you, and it sure as shit seems like you don’t want me around-”
“I do want you-” She winces and shakes her as that adorable flush creeps up her cheeks. “I mean, I want you to stay and be the one watching me, if someone has to be doing it.”
I stare at her with a puzzled look, trying to read her face.
“Please?” Her voice is shy, naked in it’s honesty, and I find myself nodding as I open my phone to call off the two guards.
Jesus, this girl is going to be the end of me.
“Fine.”
Chapter Eleven
Reagan
P A S T
The buzzing beneath my pillow shakes me awake, and I frown as I feel sleep begin to slide away from me. I’m grumbling to myself as I pull out the offending cellphone I must have fallen asleep with, blinking at its glaringly bright screen.
The number isn’t familiar, but I do recognize the time that says it’s 3:45 in the morning, and with a muttered swear, I reject the call and shove the phone back under my head.
The buzzing starts again just as I start to drift off. “Ugh, what?” I groan out loud, grinding my teeth as I see the same unknown number illuminating my screen and wrecking my sleep a second time. I’m tempted to answer just to tell them where they can stick it, but instead I just turn my phone off entirely.
I’m yanking the covers up around me and burrowing deeper into my sleep when I hear the knock at my dorm-room door.
What the actual fuck.
“What?!” I know the disheveled, skate-punk-looking kid standing outside my door, but only through faint recognition as someone who lives on my floor on the other side of the dorm. “Can I help you?”
“There’s, uh, someone here to see you.” He takes a sip from the atypical college red plastic solo cup in his hand.
I furrow my brow at him. “Excuse me?”
“Outside, there’s some dude who wants to see you.”
“Who?”
He shrugs. He looks high, or drunk. “I dunno, some guy just gave me a hundred bucks to come knock on your door and tell you to answer your phone.” He frowns and taps a finger to his forehead which would be comical if I hadn’t just been woken up at four in the morning.
“Wait, no, that’s not it, he said to say ‘Answer your damn phone, Archer.’”
I almost smirk.
Hudson.
“A hundred dollars, huh? Just to get me outside?”
Hudson is leaning against the side of a bright red Porsche convertible, his white oxford shirt unbuttoned at the neck and his sleeves rolled up, uncharacteristically showing off his tattoos.
He grins and shrugs. “Eh, it’s the only cash I had in my wallet. Answer your damn phone next time.”
“What do you want, Hudson.”
Ok so part of me is thrilled that he’s shown up here like this at four in the morning like something out of a John Hughes movie Especially looking like that with his hair pushed back and that cocky grin and those tattoos peeking out down his forearms. The other part of me though - the sensible part of me - is wary of this for those exact reasons.