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“So, what kind of … emotions did the book make you feel?” Hudson asks. Even though I’m still feeling that strange negativity over Sara thirsting over him, his awkwardness in asking that question makes my lips twitch.
Sara’s eyes flash. “Desire.”
Hudson’s big Adam’s apple works in his throat. “Oh. Uh, anything else?”
“Sympathy for what the MMC went through. He had a rough life.”
“MMC?” Hudson asks.
“Male main character. You know, the one you remind me of.” She flashes him a suggestive smile.
Hudson makes a grunt of acknowledgement. “Anything else?”
“Happiness when the main characters finally got together. A little bit of envy, too, honestly. Like, when’s my turn, you know?”
I hitch my brow and nod while taking notes. I know that feeling.
“Hm,” is all Hudson has to say. “Thanks.” With that, he pushes the chair away from the table and gets up, leaving Sara a bit taken aback with how quickly he’s disengaged and walking away.
I give Sara a sympathetic smile. “Thanks a lot for your time, Sara. It was really helpful.”
“Sure,” Sara says, sounding almost hypnotized as she stares wide-eyed at Hudson’s broad back straining against his way too small white shirt as he saunters away.
Hudson and I do two more interviews with other students, which gives us enough information to write up our report. I bring out my laptop to open a group Word document that we can both edit. We agree that I’ll write the first half and he’ll write the second half.
I nod once he confirms on his phone that he has access to the document. “Ready to call it a day?”
“Sounds good.”
Hudson and I walk out of the library together. There’s a strange, charged feeling in the air as we walk down the stairway side by side. He’s so much taller than me, so much bigger; walking by his side, knowing that he must be walking slower than normal to keep his long legs from carrying him way ahead of me, it feels … comfortable. Nice.
“Crazy that books can make people feel so much,” he says as we arrive at the first floor, his words sounding thoughtful and reflective.
“Told you so,” I say, daring to nudge him playfully in the side. He feels solid as rock against the light pressure of my elbow. “Maybe you should try cracking open a fiction book some time.”
“Maybe you’re right,” he says.
We step outside the library. It’s late afternoon, the sky still a bright and smooth blue with one fluffy white cloud gliding across the expanse.
“First day of September,” Hudson says, a musing tone in his voice.
Is Hudson actually … making conversation? I didn’t think it was something he was capable of.
I feel a little too excited at the thought.
I nod. “Summer’s almost over,” I reply.
“Don’t say that. I’m sure you’ve got at least a couple good years left in you.”
I’m silent for about two beats, my brain taking in what he just said—and then I almost double over in laughter.
Did Hudson, the grumpiest, most brooding guy I’ve ever met, really just make a dad joke?
Still laughing, I wipe a stray tear from my eye. “Hudson, I did not see that coming.”
He shrugs, his deadpan expression brightened by just the slightest—and I mean slightest—twitch on one side of his mouth. “I guess I’m full of surprises,” he says dryly.
I take a deep breath, getting my fit of laughter under control. “You were in Boston before transferring, right? That’s what the student paper said.”
