Back in my room, I throw on some clean clothes, toss the leftover tacos, and strip my sheets. The place reeks like tequila and cilantro, so I crack a few windows. The smell starts to fade, but the guilt still lingers.
I spot the two tablets Cull left for me on the nightstand and take those along with my daily meds, then gather up my sheets and head to the laundry room to toss them in the wash.
My body is sluggish, and my mind is no better. I can tell that my medicine is already taking effect, so I grab my cell and two pillows from my bed, then trudge downstairs to the entertainment room.
After a quick trip to the kitchen for a couple bottles of water and a bag of chips, I drop back onto the couch, letting myself go limp and blank. I scroll aimlessly through the streaming apps before landing on my favorite comfort sitcom and letting it play in the background.
I burrow into my pillows and wrap a blanket around me, trying to pretend that everything is fine. But my mind is racing,unable to focus on anything other than upsetting Cull. That dull throb in my chest just fuels the whispers in my brain.
Cullen’s words keep looping in my head.“Just me, Hud.”I don’t know why that hits harder than anything else, but it does.
My phone beeps, pulling my attention from another spiral.
UNKNOWN: What do I have to do for you to notice me?
“What the hell?” I whisper.
My pulse quickens, and my palms get clammy.Didn’t I block this creep yesterday?And what do they mean? Was Cull right about me being drugged? I try to remember my night, but it’s one big black hole. Unease settles in my stomach as I block this new number, adding to the anxiety that is pummeling me from all sides.
Who is this?
Why me?
It’s just one more thing my brain doesn’t have the capacity to process. My fingers tingle while my pulse races. I toss my phone on the coffee table, then sink into the couch, pulling the blanket over my head.
I need to block out the world before I let it suck me into the dark.
Eight
Cullen
It’s Sunday afternoon, and I’ve spent most of it staring at my phone like a desperate loser. Normally, Hud and I would hang, but we haven’t talked since I walked out yesterday. I’m still embarrassed about how I reacted when he suggested I was jealous of Ella. It hurt, and I needed to get out before I said something stupid.Like confessing my feelings.
The worst part? He was right. Ella’s hot, and she and Hud would make a great couple. It’s why she freaks me out so much.
I’m intimidated.
I hate that she makes him laugh. I hate that she can touch him in a way that can actually lead to something.
And that makes me a complete idiot.
Like I have any kind of chance with him.
I thought coming out would be the hard part. Turns out, that was easy. Figuring out how to wade through my feelings for Hudson? That’s the real minefield. They’ve hit hard and fast, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with them.
My phone buzzes next to me on the couch, Hudson’s name flashing on the screen. Butterflies swoop in my stomach, and a smile creeps across my face. I open the message, and my smile only grows.
HUD: I came to grovel. I’m sitting out front looking like a tool, holding two ice cream cones, one in each hand. Please come and put me out of my misery.
I decide to needle him a little. Just because I’ve caught feelings doesn’t mean I have to change the way I act.
ME:If you’re holding one in each hand, how are you texting me?
HUD: It’s mint chocolate chip. Do you want the ice cream or not, dickhead?
I laugh and shove off the couch, heading outside. “Why didn't you just come in?” I ask, dropping down next to him on the steps.
“I don’t know. This felt like a better ice breaker,” he tells me, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. He hands me my favorite and digs into his own, his tongue curling around his strawberry scoop.
