“No. I’m not going to allow that to happen. You’re going to take my room, and I’m going to sleep on the couch.” He gathered together some of his clothes and a few toiletries from his bathroom and walked downstairs. I followed him. I thought about arguing with him, but I knew it wouldn’t work. He seemed pretty adamant. So, as strange as it seemed, I was going to sleep in Hudson MacMillan’s bed tonight.
What a crazy world.
I watched Hudson put his clothes away in the downstairs closet with great care. Then, he organized his toiletries in the downstairs bathroom by the order of use after a shower.
He turned around and bumped into me. “Move back, shadow.” He grabbed hold of my shoulders, turned me around, and walked me out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, all the while walking close behind me.
“This is good,” he said. “I can give you a meal prep lesson. Now that I’ve got you as my captive.”
“Are we putting stuff in Tupperware?”
“Yes. Excited?”
I was having a bad day. I had lost my home and was now homeless. It was definitely more of a pizza night than a chicken breast and broccoli night. But I didn’t want to dampen Hudson’s mood and seem ungrateful. He acted over the moon about teaching me how to do healthy meal prep.
“Everything in balance,” he started while he washed his hands in the kitchen sink. “I don’t want to preach about mindful eating, but the secret to success is having the food ready to go. That way, you won’t grab some crap. Are you getting this, Eliza?”
“Absolutely, sir.”
“Don’t call me sir,” he said, drying his hands on a kitchen towel. “Officers are called sir. I’m a First Sergeant in the Marines. I work for a living.”
“Absolutely, First Sergeant.” I did my best at saluting. I washed my hands, and we started cooking.
Hudson was in his element, teaching me how to meal prep. He was like a musclebound little boy explaining the virtues of protein to me, as we baked chicken breasts, roasted broccoli, and cooked other gross food. Hudson didn’t believe in sauces. Sauces weren’tcleanhe said. Clean food was the important thing, according to him. If I wanted to have a clean body and mind, I needed to only eat clean food.
“I’m guessing pizza isn’t clean,” I said, when we had packaged eight meals.
“Don’t joke about clean food.”
There was a knock on the front door, and Hudson went to open it. “Where is she?” I heard. The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
“Up there. Be nice,” I heard Hudson say.
The two men came up the stairs. I instantly recognized the other man. It was Peter from the bar, one of Hudson’s friends, who gave me a Blow Job and held my legs when I did a Keg Stand. He was the frat boy top with boundless energy. Today was no different. He smiled ear to ear when he saw me and wrapped me in a bear hug.
“Hello, Blow Job girl. I’m happy to see you again,” he told me.
Hudson pried him off me. “Easy there, Marine,” Hudson told him. “Don’t break the guest.”
Peter asked me to sit at the table, and I was thrilled when he sat in one of the chairs.
“So, what’s happening here?” he asked, pointing from Hudson to me and back again. “Is this a thing?”
“It’s a thing,” I said. “I moved in.”
Peter jumped up from the chair and jumped up again into the air, raising his fist high like he was about to fly through the ceiling. “Hudson has never lived with a woman. Never. He hides his chicks away from us.”
“Not this chick,” I said. “My suitcase is in his closet. Our closet.”
“Peter jumped again with glee.”
I rolled my eyes at Hudson. This was craziness. How could Peter believe that I had actually moved in with Hudson and that there was something between us?
Peter pounded the wall. “I live right on the other side of that wall in the other townhouse,” he told me. “Anytime you want me to come over and party, I’m available. Maybe Hudson will be more sociable now. Hold on, I’m going to text the guys to come over.”
“Oh, God,” Hudson moaned.
“Tell them to bring pizza,” I directed Peter.
