We don’t talk about the mutual masturbation shower incident at all, which I am grateful for. Because I changed my outfit five times, and this shirt is still too tight, and the socks aren’t sitting right on my feet.
Trey makes comments about the area as I drive, sings along softly to the music on the radio. I’m not even shocked that he knows all the words to Rick Astley’s “Together Forever”, but other than that, mostly it’s just a quiet, calm ride.
How does he do that? It’s almost like he senses that I need this. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.
It’s not that I don’t want to talk to him, but it’s certainly easier to not talk right now.
How does he know?
Maybe he’s nervous too, and it’s nothing about him knowing me that well at all. He can’t possibly be that tuned into me.
I pull into the half-circle driveway and park behind Tom’s Jeep.
I put the car in park and shut it off. Trey opens the door and has one foot out when I shout, “Wait!”
He jerks his head in my direction, concern written all over his face.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“I just… need a minute,” I say, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes. “Just a minute.”
I hear the door close, and then silence.
“Is there anything I can do?” he asks softly. He shifts his body next to me, his spicy-sweet scent infiltrating my senses. It’s oddly comforting, even though it shouldn’t be.
I shake my head.
Mentally prepare. That’s what I need to do. Just breathe. Relax. It’ll be fine. It’s overwhelming, but it’s not dangerous. It’s just a couple of hours. And I do love Mom’s homemade cranberry sauce…
“Okay, I’m good,” I say, nodding. I pull my hands from my eyes, turning to look at him. His eyes look darker in here, a blue so deep I swear I could drown in them.
“Are you sure?”
I open the door. “Sure.”
He gets out too, hurrying to my side. “If you need more time, I don’t mind waiting.”
“I’m fine. I can do this.”
Trey knows I have a strained relationship with my parents but doesn’t know why. He knows they’re overbearing, but I never got into the details. Because that would mean telling him my secret.
Though it’s not really a secret. It’s just… well, I don’t know. I guess itisa secret, but it feels weird calling it that. I just don’t like talking about it.
I knock on the door, and Trey and I wait for someone to open it for us.
“Hudsy!” my mother greets, throwing herself at me and almost knocking me down the stairs. “I tell you all the time, honey, not to knock on the door. Just come in. Oh, I missed you!” She squeezes me tighter, and I hug her back, even though it’s making me uncomfortable.
Finally, she lets me go, and I can breathe. Then she pulls Trey into a hug.
“Oh, hi, hello,” he says with a laugh, hugging her back.
“Trey Kelly,” he says, extending his hand, a bright smile on his face. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Hudson talks about you all the time.” He gives me a side smirk and a wink. My mother doesn’t notice, and I can’t help but feel the corners of my lips turn up.
“Oh, likewise, sweetheart! We’ve heard so much about you from Mandy! So glad you could join us.”
The house has to be well over a hundred degrees from all the cooking, but it smells amazing.
“Yeah, sucks she got called in at the last minute,” Trey says, sliding his hands into his pockets.
