Not—
Found him.
Hudson Millen.
There isn’t the usual posed staff photo beside his name, probably because they’ve not yet updated the data base, but someone has written a short and impersonal description beneath his name which I can’t help myself but scour.
Hudson, 25, is a personal trainer originally from Burford, in the Cotswolds, but has lived in London for the past four years.
As well as being a personal trainer, Hudson specialises in taking the time to get to know his clients and their gym goals. A catered-to-you workout regime and meal plan based on your goals, are both included in the price of his training programme.
If you’re interested in working with Hudson, please drop us an email.
Huh.
He’s a country boy.
I wouldn’t have guessed that.
Swiping away, I reopen my social media app, heading straight to the handy dandy search bar and keying in Hudson’s full name.
He’s the first suggested profile to pop up.
Hundreds of perfectly squared images, sitting in aesthetically pleasing rows of three, load up on my feed. Each of them is filled with an attractive shock of dark brown hair, green eyes, ethereally high cheeks bones and a myriad of tattoos dotted around his muscular body.
I feel my nipples bead up again. A pleasant ache beginning to stir awake in the pretty space between my thighs.
My god.
In over half of them, he’s at the gym, posing with a protein shake encased in a familiar green bottle. The teeny tiny AD in the corner lets me know it’s a paid sponsorship; meaning for every person who buys one of the bottles Hudson is advertising, he gets paid a small commission.
Good for him.
Vehemently ignoring the rather high number of followers beside his name, I scroll down Hudson’s profile with unsteady hands, careful not to accidentally double tap any of his photos, lest he become aware that I’m snooping on him.
According to one of the photographs, he took up running last summer in Kensington Palace Gardens. Or, at least, that’s the location he tagged.
For someone who just finished a run, it’s a good picture of him, I’ve got to admit; face flushed red with a new rush of blood, mouth set into a closed lipped smile, hair slicked back from his forehead with sweat. At the bottom of the photo, a hint of his toned abs peeks out from the loose fitting tank top he’s lifting up with his free hand.
I click on the comments without a second thought.
Thousands of comments flood beneath his selfie. Over ninety percent are from beautiful women. From what I can see of their profile pictures, their faces are all smooth, pore less and wrinkle free. Some wear makeup, some don’t. Some have visible filler on their faces, others don’t. One,Evelyn_Rossi, according to her username, is even posed in her bikini.
They’re all beautiful in their own way, and they all think Hudson is attractive.
I’d be a fool to think he doesn’t follow a few of them back; the feeling of attraction mutual. He’s certainly spoken to a few of them over private message, if his replying comments of ‘DM me’ are anything to go by.
Something unpleasant wriggles in my chest at the thought.
Flying back to the top of his profile, I press on his latest photo.
Sandwiched between three other men and one curvy brunette, Hudson smiles broadly towards the camera, showcasing his straight, white teeth. It’s the only photo in his entire feed that I’ve seen him smiling like that. This photo, and his others, are a stark contrast. It doesn’t even feel like the same person.
One of these people is the real Hudson Millen.
The other, is a fake phony.
But which one is which?
