“It’s okay,” I say, rubbing his back as he groans, burying his head against my shoulder.
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
A chuckle escapes my throat.
“That just means you had fun, Huds.”
He groans again, fingers fisting my shirt.
“Fun is the worst. I never want to have fun again.”
I rub his shoulders and they ease up, tension dripping off him.
“I don’t know if I’m going to make it,” he says.
The elevator dings and the doors open.
“You coming or what?”
I blink and Hudson comes into focus, standing on the other side of the door with his arm out to stop it from shutting.
“Shit, didn’t realize we were here…”
Onmyfloor.
Hudson grunts out an incoherent sound, and I move out of the elevator, expecting him to get back on and head to his floor, but he doesn’t. He walks by my side, saying nothing.
It’s awkward, but it’s also kind of nice.
“What number are you?” he asks, though his voice sounds weird. Concerned and worried.
I take out my wallet, fumbling with my key.
“2912. You?”
There’s a pause before he says, “2213.”
“Cool,” I say, sliding my hands into my pockets.
Hudson leads me around the bend, and I follow without question. Sure enough, we hit 2912 pretty quickly. Or maybe time’s just moving faster because I’m not by myself. Who knows.
When we get to my door, Hudson grabs my key out of my hands and presses it to the handle until it clicks.
“Thanks,” I say, grabbing the key from him, our fingers brushing quickly. I lean into his space and lower my voice. Hudson stiffens and looks up at me. I’ve got a couple inches on him in height still, it seems.
“Uh huh,” Hudson says, his voice low.
“If you’re worried about me, don’t be,” I tell him.
“Why would I be worried?” he asks, his voice shaking only minimally as he looks back up at me. The concern is written all over his face.
I give him a friendly smirk.
“Because I’m drunk.” I smile. “Which is entirely your fault, by the way.”
His eyebrows shoot up.
“My fault?”
