He grabs his suitcase wordlessly, his gaze holding mine in challenge.
I pass him a key and he takes it.
“Room thirteen,” I say with a smirk. “Your lucky number, right?”
Hudson sighs as he takes it from my hand. “Yeah.”
I ease a fraction, hearing his voice as I lead us toward room thirteen.
Chapter Twelve
Hudson
It’s been a horrible day but I can only take us ending up in room thirteen as a sign. Silly, maybe, but sometimes it’s the little things that help me calm down.
Thirteen was my jersey number in college. Everyone told me it was bad luck, meaning I was bad luck, but I proved them wrong. I was the best safety the team had.
I will also say not being alone, for once, helps. Typically being alone makes me feel better because I don’t have to worry about what someone else might do or say, but in this situation? I’d rather not be alone. I have no idea where the hell we are, and this hotel looks like it was the inspiration forPsycho.
So yeah, I’ll take comfort in being with Trey.
Trey lets us into the room after fighting with the key since it wouldn’t budge once in the lock. I thought he’d have to go back to the office, but he figured it out. That would have been a mental break for me right this moment.
Trey groans as he enters the room, and I step in after him, prepared to see roaches or blood on the walls.
Surprisingly, the room is nice. Updated and clean. The issue, and what I assume he’s groaning about, is the fact that there’s only one bed.
He turns to look at me with a frown. “Well, it won’t be the first time we’ve shared a bed.”
“I was drunk the last time.”
“Does that matter?”
“I guess not.”
I drop my bag on the floor by the chair and take a seat.
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a quick shower,” he says.
I shoo him with my hand, letting my eyes fall closed. I need a moment or two so I can get myself together.
I listen to Trey digging through his bag, muttering to himself. Then the bathroom door shuts with a soft click. The shower turns on. The curtain pulls back. Closes again. I hear the difference in the water as he stands under it, and find myself imagining him washing himself. He was always a bit leaner in build than the rest of us, but still toned and trim in all the right places. Part of me wonders if he’s still sporting that definition or if he’s backed off. If his once defined hips are softer now. I shake my head to dispel the thoughts.
I take deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves as I listen to Trey in the shower. After a few moments, I’m feeling well enough that I’m able to get up and look through my suitcase for something to change into. I grab the first pair of sweats I find and change quickly before Trey walks out. Not that we haven’t seen each other naked before, but the circumstances are different.
That’s stuff college kids do because they don’t care, but not adults. Adults have boundaries.
I get onto the bed, crossing my ankles, and grab the remote from the end table to turn on the TV. I skim through the channels for something to watch, but find nothing of interest, so I click on something at random and close my eyes.
It’s still early, but I could sleep. After the stress of the day, maybe sleeping would be my best bet.
The bathroom door opens, and I glance that way. Trey walks out dressed in black sweatpants and a white t-shirt, steam billowing out after him.
“Shower pressure sucks, but the water is hot,” he comments. He gets into the bed on the opposite side, lying similarly to the way I am. “What are we watching?”
“No clue.” I hand him the remote.
The bed is a full, meaning it’s small as hell, so we’re practically on top of each other. There’s no point in complaining or telling him to ask for another room, because it’s just not that big of a deal. It’s one night. And if Trey cared, he’d handle it.
