Mostly I keep going back to the conversations I had with Trey where I got all deep… why do I keep doing that? First, it was this rant about everyone changing. Then it’s how love isn’t real. Why do I have to be so damn awkward all the time?
I grab my phone, unplug it, and open up Trey’s text thread.
Me
I’m sorry if I’m being weird.
I stare at the screen, hoping he’s going to answer, even if I know he likely won’t because it’s late.
A few minutes pass, so I plug my phone back in, roll over to try to sleep, and wonder if I shouldn’t have sent that message. I don’t want to look like an idiot.
Trey is confident, knows what he’s doing all the time. He’s just himself. I bet he doesn’t stay awake at night replaying conversations and encounters with people the way I do. The only time I feel truly confident is at work. I know my stuff. I know what the expectations are and what I am supposed to do. Social situations are unpredictable, numbers aren’t, and sometimes I wish I could go back to the immature college guy who didn’t care as much.
I guess it doesn’t matter though, because tomorrow I’ll be back home in my apartment with a full week to do whatever the hell I want, which in some ways is great, and in other ways… not so much. Going back to work is going to be difficult because there will be extra work waiting for me, and my whole schedule will be off.
But with a week off, after taking a day or two to recover from this, I should be able to visit some of the places I’ve been wanting to go and maybe even catch a football game with Dad. He’s been asking me to go and I keep saying I don’t have time, but I have time now, so maybe I can do that. I know he’d appreciate it.
We’ll see how the days go… you never know what’s going to happen.
Chapter Nine
Trey
The minute I walk through the suite doors, it’s like a switch inside of me is flipped. Like going from a noisy arena to a woodland retreat. Sharp, obvious.
Silence never used to bother me, not like it is at the moment, anyway. Maybe it’s because I’d gotten used to it, being alone most of the time, that now that I’ve been around people—friends—I realize how empty the space is when it’s not filled with laughter and conversation. Not to mention, it’s cold as a witch’s tit in here. Seriously, what is this air set to? Arctic blast? It’s still cold outside, for fuck’s sake.
I take a look around the room as I head to the thermostat to turn up the heat, noticing how pristine and put-together everything is. Untouched, unlived in. It’s nice. Luxurious, even.
But all I can think about is that little cozy bookstore that smelled like coffee and sugar with the too-high stacks of books and Hudson’s bright-eyes and wide grin.
I keep thinking about Mandy’s words, too.Hudson could use a friend.
He said he doesn’t talk to her much, so I’d wager he doesn’t know we know each other. Part of me wants to tell him, but there’s also a part of me that doesn’t. Not because I don’t think it matters, but because it does.
That part of me just wants to keep whateverfriendshipI have with Hudson free of outside interference. Stupidly, I just want my best friend to be, well, mine, I guess. Which is kind of dumb, considering we just spent the weekend withour friends.
I also can’t stop thinking about that weird exchange earlier in the bookstore with Hudson. When my dick decided to awaken at the worst possible moment. It’s not that I’membarrassedby any means, I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve neglected my needs and suffered the consequences, but it’s definitely the first time I felt self-conscious about it. Like if Hudson knew what was happening, he might get weirded out and think it was because of him, which…
It’s not.
Obviously.
I mean, if I was into guys, I think I’d know by now. I’m twenty-nine, I’m around guys constantly—good looking athletes and corporate jocks alike, not to mention the gym is always bursting at the seams with shirtless men and gym rats in sweaty athletic wear, and not once have I ever looked at a guy and feltthat.
My mind wanders back to Hudson—again—and his reaction at Austen’s opening. How he’d been freaked out over possiblyhearing Alex and Mack, nearly going into a damn panic attack. But then when he looked at Austen and Cameron, when he responded to my bitterness…
He’d said it shouldn’t matter that they’re guys.
It shouldn’t, and I don’t really think it does; it’s just… surprising, I guess. You think you know someone, and then they throw a curveball you never expect. I meant what I said about them deserving happiness.
It’s just… seeing couples—happycouples—feels like a sharp stab from the universe sometimes. All the self-help books tout happiness as a mindset; reminding me I need tochooseto be happy and see the positive things, but I am starting to believe those things just aren’t meant for me, period. Maybe I need to accept that. Accept that this is my life. I stare at my suitcase—or more accurately my life-in-a-box. The clothes I’d dumped on the floor previously are carefully folded and laid on my bed. Most of the time hotel staff don’t bother with that sort of thing, but when you stay in the more expensive suites and penthouses, the service is better and plenty of staff go above and beyond hoping for a decent sized tip. Which I’ll give, because I know firsthand how these big companies pay their employees, considering my mom’s housekeeping tips were solely responsible for helping me pay my way through college so I wouldn’t need loans. I open my wallet and take out two hundred and fifty dollars and toss it on the night stand while I’m thinking about it.
That’s when I notice the text on my phone.
It’s Mandy. I swipe up to see a photo of her—a selfie taken at some fancy private-looking pool.
She’s smiling and her text makes me smirk.
