“Mhmm. You’re a bad influence on me, Hudson Daniels. Always have been.”
Hudson’s cheeks turn red.
“I am not. You’re just a lightweight.” He pokes me in the ribs with his free hand. The gesture is humorous, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Are you kidding? I’ve got a liver made of steel,” I say, and he smirks. A low chuckle escapes his throat.
“Maybecorrodedsteel,” he says.
For the briefest moment, he looks happy. Like whatever is going on with him has been forgotten.
And that makes me happy, too.
“You calling me rusty, Hudson?” I tease.
He shrugs. “Nope.”
“We should do breakfast tomorrow,” I say, my voice dropping to a lower octave as I hold his gaze.
“What?” His smile fades.
“You and me. Like…”
Hudson’s breath catches, and I don’t miss the frown on his face. Gone is the ease, the familiar grins and laughter, and in its place is something else. Someone else. Someone I don’t know.
“I can’t.” His answer is abrupt. Solid. Definitive.
It’s my turn to frown because the way he says it hurts more than it should.
“Come on, Huds. It’ll be like old times. Just you, me, some coffee… maybe some waffles, sans the chicken,” I plead, hating how desperate I sound. Maybe it’s the beer, or maybe it’s just being around Hudson and the guys, but whatever it is, I feel astrange sort of loneliness echoing in my chest at the thought of him leaving me. Which is weird, because I’m always alone.
Maybe that’s the problem. I’m so used to being by myself, I have forgotten what it feels like to have another person in my space. I forgot that I enjoy it.
Hudson nods, his gaze drifting from my eyes to the floor.
I lean in closer, lowering my voice, trying to be as cool as a cucumber. I don’t want him to worry.
“Or we can get you all the chicken you want. Try all the chicken and waffle joints in the city until you start clucking,” I promise. “Please…”
Hudson swallows, and I don’t miss the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he does so.
“I can’t, Trey,” he says carefully. “It’s too—I just can’t.” He looks away. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I say, even though I am severely disappointed.
“I should go,” he says, his voice far away even though he’s inches away from me. “You good?” I don’t miss the edge in his tone.
“Don’t worry about me.” I do my best to give him a reassuring smile. “I’m good, promise.”
He nods. “Okay.”
I could invite him in. Maybe we could watch a movie while I sober up. This wasn’t the plan. We were supposed to chill and be quiet and calm. Yet, here we are, and now he’s leaving.
Whatever is going on with him, I want to help, but… I don’t know how.
Maybe he just needs a good night’s sleep. You could use one of those yourself.
He had a long day today.
