Bodhi, on the other hand…he still hasn’t given up.
Even after transferring to Bayside, our conference rival an hour’s drive north of Westgate, he calls or texts me on a regular basis—attempting to apologize and begging me to meet withhim. I’ve never responded to him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he and my mother are still seeing each other.
I wonder how they’d react if they found out about me moving in with Hudson—I’m certain my mother would be furious, but it’s her fault I’m in this situation. She left me no other choice. With her divorce from Hudson, my tuition was no longer going to be covered, and after I told her to stop speaking to me, the monthly allowances she wired into my bank account stopped coming too. There would be no way for me to pay for housing, tuition, and continue to play hockey. I think my mom knows this, and I think she assumed I’d come running back when I needed the money.
Luckily, Natalia stepped in and spoke to Hudson for me.
She’s the best friend I’ve ever had—I think she might be my soulmate.
I don’t know what I’d do without Natalia. She’s fierce and protective and unapologetically authentic. She’s the only person in the world who has ever cracked my shell, and sometimes, I think, because of her, I’m able to discover who I truly am. Sometimes, I get irrationally jealous of her friendships with the other girls on the figure skating team—her roommates. I know a couple of them have been more than just friends, though her relationships have never gone beyond a casual hook-up. I don’t know why the thought of her dating another girl sometimes makes me bristle—I guess it’s because I don’t want to lose her as a best friend. I don’t want to share her with anyone, even if that thought kind of makes me sound insane. I guess after losing everyone else in my life, I’m possessive over her—I hate the thought of her dating a man, too.
But she’s beautiful and outgoing and wild. Everyone who meets her falls in love with her, and I can’t blame them. Luckily for me, she doesn’t like her connections to go beyond casual flings, because she says spending too much time around thesame person gets tedious and annoying for her—I’m the one exception.
If I have nothing else, I know I’ll always have Nat.
And Hudson…he’s kind and selfless. He’s been accommodating and supportive while I’ve been living here—always keeping the fridge stocked, switching out my laundry when I’m in class, never complaining about the frequency with which Nat sleeps over.
That diminished attraction I felt for him, those budding butterflies, seem to flap louder and harder the longer I spend beneath his roof, and the way he looks at me sometimes has me wondering if he feels the same way, though I’m sure I’m imagining it. I’m no more than his ex-wife’s daughter who he tolerates out of pity—though Icanallow myself to daydream about something more.
The way he looks when he steps out of a shower, nothing but a towel slung around his hips and beads of water cascading down his bare chest. The firm muscles in his back and the way they move when he lifts something. The bob in his throat when his eyes linger on my favorite pair of silk pajama shorts as they ride up my thighs.
Sometimes, I let myself imagine what his skin tastes like, how that force and strength would feel when entirely focused on me, the calloused caress of his rough hands, what kind of words may flow from the deep, gruff voice of his.
But they’re merely fantasies, nothing I’d ever act upon.
I slip my shoes off in the entryway before trudging up the stairs to get started on my homework—or read the newest release from my favorite romance author. I’m undecided.
I startle when I reach the second floor landing—a soft moan clatters off the walls. It’s dark, the only light a faint illumination from Hudson’s door, which is slightly ajar.
Fuck.
I didn’t think about the fact that he expected me to be out tonight so he may have someone over. I bite down the pang of jealousy that squeezes my stomach, dashing toward my own bedroom door, but I halt, palm on the handle, when I hear, “Yeah, just like that,” in an all-too-familiar voice.
My chest seizes as every conceivable emotion rushes over me at once.
Shock. Betrayal. Envy… Curiosity?
There is no doubt in my mind that voice belonged to my best friend, and there are only so many things she can be doing in my step-father’s bedroom that would result inthat.
My immediate thought is:why does this keep happening to me?But a secondary, more primal urge overcomes me, and I physically can’t stop myself from tiptoeing across the landing, concealing my body behind Hudson’s door. I peek through the sliver of light that shines between it and the wall, offering myself a glimpse of what’s going on inside.
I want to be hurt and angry, but an intense feeling of intrigue settles over my skin. I can’t stop myself from taking in the sight that greets me.
Natalia’s completely naked, propped up in the lounge chair beside Hudson’s bed with her head thrown back, long, dark hair cascading around her shoulders. Her legs are bent in half and resting atop Hudson’s shoulders, and he kneels on the floor, head buried between her thighs. He’s shirtless, and those back muscles I love to admire move with a vigor as he appears to be thrusting his fingers in and out of her.
There is a glow of sweat complimenting Nat’s golden skin, and her plush lips are parted in a perfect “O”, her face screwed in pure ecstasy.
Heat erupts at the base of my spine, spreading like wildfire through my blood, and I can’t look away.
I’ve seen Nat naked before, but I’ve never allowed myself tolookat her—mostly because I’ve been terrified of feeling exactly the way I do right now: allured and enticed and aflame for my best friend’s raw beauty and flawless body.
A guttural groan leaves Hudson’s mouth, and Nat’s entire body tightens at the sound. I can only imagine how it must feel vibrating against her center. The noise was both pleasure and praise, and I'm trembling at the vision of him making those noises about me. My thighs clamp together, arousal flooding my core.
Later, I might feel rage, but at this moment, all I can muster is lust and envy.
The worst part is, I can’t decide what it is I’m envious of. There’s the look on Nat’s face as Hudson’s fingers move inside her, as his tongue buries itself between her thighs, what it must feel like to be pleasured by him. At the same time, my mouth begins to salivate at the thought of what she tastes like, how it must feel for him to have her writhing against his mouth and tugging on his hair, how good it must feel to make Natalia weak like that, to have her praising his movements, to have her moaning his name.
I’ve never felt like this before, and I know it’s wrong, but I can’t stop my eyes from fluttering closed, from imagining what it would feel like to find myself between them, drawing my own rapture from each of theirs, being worshipped by them the way they seem to be worshipping each other.
