He groans. “She’s going to visit my aunt in Maine for the winter. She’s on this new kick where she loves the snow and wants to ski.”
“Your mother? The same one you told me was wearing a sweater in the dead of summer in Florida?”
“One and the same.”
“Hey, well… everyone changes, right?” I say.
“Anyway…” Trey breathes. “Since I will not be with her for any of the holidays this year, and Mandy overheard our conversation, I’ve been officially invited to partake in the holiday merriment at your mother’s.”
“Cool.” I try my best to sound indifferent, though the more I think about it, the more excited I feel. I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend over for the holidays, even when my parents were together.
“At least it’s Thanksgiving and not Christmas. By then, I’m fed up and hardly say a word.”
There’s a pause, and I think the call might’ve dropped, but he breaks the silence with a soft, even tone.
“Can I… uh, ask why you hate going there so much?”
“It’s… complicated,” is what I say.
It’s the perfect opportunity to tell him about my diagnosis and how my mother babies the hell out of me, but of course I go silent instead. I’ve considered telling him plenty of times, even though I swore I would never tell anyone. But he’s Trey. My best friend. My very attractive best friend, who has a really nice dick. Yeah, he doesn’t need to know about my neurological makeup.
Chapter Nineteen
Trey
I hear the honking of a horn and look up immediately to see Hudson pull up in his car.
When I told him I was planning to arrive early and stay in a hotel, he told me in the most Hudson way possible—sternly and matter-of-factly—that I was staying with him and I wouldn’t need a rental because he has a car. It was kind of nice, if I’m being honest, to have someone take over. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have to book a hotel or a car. Part of me wanted to argue with him, but I also know Hudson well enough to know if he doesn’t want to do something, he won’t. It’s been three months since we’ve seen each other.
Three months since I had his dick in my mouth… and didn’t hate it. I’m not sure I’d do it again. But I’m not sure I wouldn’t, either. I think it means something, I just… don’t know what. Sometimes I wonder if Hudson thinks about those moments like I do. I wonder if he thinks about me and the moments we don’t talk about, when he’s alone with his hand wrapped around his dick, like I do.Probably not.
Which is why I need to stop thinking about all of it and just enjoy my time off with my friends this weekend. I need to relax. Work’s been so busy with this being the most intense sales quarter of the year. It’s only four days, not much at all, but I’m going to make the most of it.
When he gets out of his car, I can’t help but relax. The moment of melancholy disappears as he jogs up to me and throws his arms around me, hugging me so hard, so tight, he nearly knocks me over. I let out a chuckle as he apologizes.
“Sorry.”
I squeeze him tighter than I should because fuck, I missed this. I missed his familiar rainwater scent, his solid, warm body. I missed him.
I breathe him in, letting his scent fill my lungs. I bought a bottle of his cologne after he told me what it was, but I swear it doesn’t smell as good on me as it does on him.
“Good to see you, too, Huds,” I say as I regrettably let go to hold him out in front of me, taking a look at him.
He clears his throat, standing up straighter. The motion is almost like a switch has been flipped. He looks nervous.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, though the words are off. Stiff, maybe even a little practiced. He said the holidays put him in a weird mood, so I won’t dwell on it.
“Thanks for picking me up,” I say as he grabs my suitcase and tosses it into the trunk. “And letting me stay with you.” I head for the passenger door, but he beats me to it, pulling it open.
“Of course,” he says briskly. “That’s what friends are for.”
Something about the way he says the words feels off. Like he isn’t sure about them.
But once the car door shuts, he eases up a fraction. The whole way back to Hudson’s, we chat the same way we do on the phone every day. He talks a mile a minute. I know enough to know he rambles when he’s nervous or when he’s excited, but I can’t tell which is the reason right now, though I’m not sure it matters. I soak up his presence like it’s a damn drug, and maybe it is. Just being with him is a sort of comfort. It always was like that, but now… it’s different. I don’t know how to explain it, so I just enjoy it.
We talk about my awful flight and his job, and Austen and Cameron’s engagement—which only happened two days ago. We talk about Alex and Mack—who told us a few months ago, they aredatingand have been for awhile—and Hudson agrees Alex is worse now because of it. I laugh, and he does too. Music fills the space, and I can’t help but feel at ease. We go over the plan for tomorrow at least three times, for which Hudson apologizesfour times,that he doesn’t mean to keep repeating himself, but I don’t care. I like listening to him talk. I like hearing his voice. I’ve gotten used to hearing it every day. He goes on and on about work and his idiot boss, and some statistics issue I don’t understand whatsoever. Hudson could read me the phone book and make it interesting, I swear. I can’t help but smile as I stare at him while he keeps talking. My gaze drifts from his messy golden-brown hair over his ear to his neck.
I stare at it like a fucking vampire, hungry for blood. I know the sounds he makes when I kiss him there. But it’s not just thatspotthat I can’t stop looking at. It’s him.
