I hold his gaze, taking a deep breath of my own, and Hudson does the same. He lets it out slowly.
“Good. A few more times.”
Nodding, he does as I say and looks slightly better after a few moments.
“Okay,” he says. “Alex and Mack were fucking in the office.”
I raise my eyebrow.
“Shit, you’re serious?”
“Yes. Positive. I heard it, and… justyes.”
I shake my head, trying to wrap my head around the idea of Alex and Mack. I know Alex is bi, he’s never hidden that, and his crush on Mack back in college wasn’t exactly a secret, butMackis another story. I catch a glimpse of Austen and Cameron across the room. Smiling. Laughing. Cameron kisses his head, and Austen lights up like a damn star.
“Must be something in the water around here,” I say.
“Huh?” Hudson blinks.
I nod toward Austen and Cameron.
“Austen. Cameron…”
Hudson shakes his head. “Right. I knew that…”
I watch them for a moment, unable to pull my gaze away. Austen wraps his arms around Cameron, and when they look at each other, I can’t help but feel like that’sallthey see.
Each other.
I wish I had that.
“He looks so fucking happy,” I say, and even I hear the bitterness in my voice.
Hudson doesn’t say anything. Warmth enters my space as his arm brushes mine again.
“It doesn’t really matter, you know.”
“Hm?” I ask, glancing at Hudson.
“That they’re together now. That they’re guys. Alex and Mack either.”
“Well, I know that, it’s just a surprise.”
“As you get older, you learn things about yourself. Or maybe you just learn to accept them. I don’t know—haven’t figured that part out.” He pauses, then adds, “As long as they’re happy, we should support them.”
“I mean… he deserves to be happy.” I stare at my beer bottle. My stomach flips and I think I should stop here, before I say something I really don’t want to. The urge to spill out my feelings—mytruefeelings—is too tempting.
Something tells me if I told Hudson about my shitty love life—or lack thereof—he wouldn’t judge me.
But I don’t want to spend the little time I have with my friends bitching about my perpetual bachelorhood and the fact I’m probablynevergoing to find a love like Austen did. Or Andre… or… like my parents.
And that’s probably why we’ve all reverted to our old selves: it’s easier than dealing with all this adult shit.
“We all deserve to be happy,” I say, shoving my beer bottle away. I don’t want to finish it.
Hudson’s voice drops an octave.
“I mean,technicallyhappiness doesn’t exist,” he says carefully.
