“We were?” I mean it is closer to ten than nine at this point, but still a bit early.
Hudson nods. “You can make me watch your horrible reality TV in the bedroom.”
Alex snorts. “She’s still watching that trash?” He laughs around the question.
“Every night,” Hudson returns, implying he knows me well. Maybe he does.
I scowl at both of them with my arms crossed against my chest and walk to my bedroom.
It isn’t until I’m in the small room with the door closed I realize I have to spend the rest of the evening cooped up in this tiny space with Hudson. My annoying brother might not be so bad.
“So, we’re going to sleep?” I chirp at Hudson when he comes in the room closing the door behind him.
“Yup, unless there’s something else you want to do?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.
It’s cute seeing his playful side come out from time to time. If only he’d let it out more and not when I’m stressed.
And if my brother wasn’t sitting a few feet away from the door, I might be tempted to say yes.
Hudson’s sighs. “I don’t know if you’re scared of me or I intimidate you or you don’t like me as much as I thought, but I promise I won’t bite, Amanda. We will lie nicely beside one another and watch TV.”
“That’s it?”
He tips his eyebrow high again. “Unless you decide there’s more you want and, in that case, I am open.”
Hudson is open? To me wanting more than to watch TV in bed? Why are men so confusing? If he likes me, why doesn’t he say, “Hey, I like you.” What is this push and pull, back and forth where I’m supposed to read an imaginary cue? I’m not good at reading anyone’s cues. There’s no way someone tall and sexy and gorgeous and wonderful and funny and handsome as Hudson could be hitting on me. I’m just me. I’m not dramatic like Aspen, or super pretty like Clare, or sarcastic like Marissa, or even as sweet as Simone. I play Animal Snatch and Dragons Reborn. There’s more than one graphic novel on my bookshelf. I don’t care if Hans shot first. He’s still a hero in my eyes.
I quickly change into pajamas in my big walk-in closet and stop in front of the full-length mirror before I walk out. Dying my hair and going back to my original brown color does seem to help bring out my eyes, but I’m still me — a girl who works with dogs for a living. There’s nothing special happening here. I’m quite sure Hudson is joking. Some guys don’t know how not to make sexual innuendos. And when he’s as handsome as he is, it’s probably second nature.
I repeat that mantra one more time before I steal my shoulders and walk back into the tiny bedroom. Hudson stretches over to the side of the small bed and I crawl in beside him. Our bodies are so close it’s all I can do not to be reminded of what happened between us on New Year’s Eve. Neither one of us have mentioned it since, which only led me to believe he regrets his momentary lapse in judgment.
Hudson turns on the television and it’s already on the correct channel. “Are you sure I can’t interest you in a nice World War II documentary on the History Channel?” he asks, acting as if he’s about to switch the channel.
“The History Channel plays history shows?” I thought they moved over to reality TV as well. People going through garages full of junk and looking for stuff to sell. The guys who fix up cars. I’m not sure how any of those shows are classified as history.
Hudson laughs. “Probably not.” He leans back getting comfortable. One of his arms lies loosely behind his head, the muscles stretching until I lick my top lip wanting to run my hand down them. The memories of New Year’s Eve flood my memory.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks.
Damn him always noticing things.
“I’m not looking at you,” I say quickly turning my attention back to the television.
“You most definitely were.”
“I most definitely was not.”
Hudson smirks. “Trust me. I see everything. I read most people easily, except you.”
“What do you mean?” I’m the least secretive person except lately.
“Well,” he turns in my direction. “You act as if you like me when I’m not looking. I catch glimpses here and there. Plus, New Year’s Eve. I already told you I want you, but I can’t decide if you like me or if you’re sorry something happened for other reasons.”
“You like me?”
“Of course,” he says his eyes narrowed like he considers me a complete moron. “I’ve told you that.”
“I didn’t believe you.” I’m not sure I do now.
