“Don’t stall. You didn’t answer my question.” Hudson tosses another piece of popcorn in my direction but this time I put a hand up in time to stop it.
“I’m making you vacuum this up,” I say smiling.
“So, they aren’t having a New Year’s Eve party?” he pries.
I shrug, trying to play it off like I’m not sure why my group of friends didn’t get together on New Year’s Eve, maybe one of the most important nights of the year.
The truth is, they are together. San Francisco doesn’t do anything major on TV, but we have one of the best fireworks displays in the entire country. People come from miles to watch our fireworks over the water. I would be there right now. It’s one time of the year even the biggest introverts get out.
“It is odd, Amanda. Especially since they get together to celebrate it being Wednesday.”
I snort. Hudson hasn’t been here long, but even he’s figured out their issues. In Aspen’s defense I’m sure there are many celebrations between Christmas and New Year’s.
Aspen knows normally I stay home at least every other day. I want a few hours to recoup and regenerate. A little alone time to watch TV, read a book, play with the guinea pigs, and do whatever else I want to do quietly by myself. We’ve reached a good trade-off in our friendship where she gets me, but even she doesn’t understand how I’m missing the fireworks.
“It’s because your friends didn’t get together tonight? That’s why we’re home rather than watching the fireworks. You decided it’d be more fun to stay here?”
I don’t respond, my eyes trying to vaporize the piece of popcorn off the carpeting. Would he trust me if I told him I had a big thing for Carson?
“Eh?”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“No,” I say watching the commercials intently on the television broadcast.
Hudson throws a handful of popcorn across the couch. The pieces scatter everywhere.
“Hey!” There will be fake butter spread over the carpet.
He shrugs. “I have to vacuum anyway, adding to the mess to get your attention works. You can tell me, Amanda.” His eyes beg me to be honest.
Ugh. “I figured you wouldn’t find it safe.” There, I said it. Hudson’s so annoying. Why do I love it so much?
Most people claim their space to watch fireworks around seven o’clock at night and the streets are crowded with people. Hudson has had enough problems with security in the buildings when we’re standing in a secure room surrounded by friends. There’s no way I’d talk him into letting me stand around on a crowded street full of strangers.
He looks at me, his head cocked to the side in thought. “So you do realize there’s a threat against you.”
“Possibly.” Does he plan to make me talk now? I’m not mentally prepared to go that far yet.
What a way to ruin New Year’s Eve.
“I want to tell you you’re wrong and we could go, but you’re right. I’m sorry you’re missing New Year’s Eve with your friends but it’s a smarter choice to stay home.”
“It’s not a big deal. I am tired.” I haven’t had any alone time in days. Last night I tried going to bed at nine o’clock just so I could lie in my room by myself for quiet time. It didn’t help.
My brain is aware Hudson’s here. He may have been a room away with a door shut between us, but he’s in my space. Breathing my air. He’s always on my mind. Him and his damn well-fitting black polo shirts.
The first few days he concerned me out of annoyance. No one knew who if he could be trusted. I’m pretty sure I didn’t like him. But now the opposite is true for all those issues.
I know him too well. I want him too much. Hudson’s presence is still suffocating, but for different reasons.
“I don’t want to imagine something scary could happen. People shouldn’t live in fear.” There’s a tremendous amount of faith Ben and Hudson will keep me safe. I fully admit to taking the ostrich — head in the sand — approach to the situation. But if I worry too much, I’ll roll into a ball and lie in the corner of the room crying my eyes out. If people want me to be an even somewhat functional adult, this is how I handle it.
The crowd begins a countdown to the midnight hour in the central time zone. The cheers are loud as the New York feed switches to shots off the shoe dropping in New Orleans, but I don’t move my attention from Hudson’s light blue eyes. They’ve sucked me in until I can look nowhere else.
The air around Hudson is charged differently as if the environment knows something has happened between us. Something big is coming.
8
