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With a drink in my hand, and a couple sips already down my throat, I feel more steadied when we rejoin the party.
Jasmine, a cello major who I’ve had a bunch of music classes with and with whom I’m friendly, waltzes up to us, her eyes vivid with interest.
I love Jasmine, but I know she’s a total gossip. I have no doubt she’s heard all about the kiss Hudson and I shared on campus, nor do I have any doubt that she’s been eagerly awaiting the chance to interrogate us.
“Summer!” she exclaims, greeting me with a hug before turning her eyes to Hudson. “So, introduce me to your friend.”
“Boyfriend.” Hudson corrects her without missing a beat. The butterflies flittering in my stomach rise to my throat as he gives my hand a squeeze.
I don’t know what I expected from Hudson exactly, but with how taciturn I knew him to be, I didn’t expect him to be so direct. I sure as heck can’t accuse him of not holding up his end of the bargain in selling this fake relationship.
Jasmine’s brow does a leap. “How did you two meet?”
“English class,” I say.
Luckily, Hudson and I don’t have to concoct some outlandish tale of how we met. The story is we started talking more and more while sitting together in English class, and really hit it off when we worked on that project together.
Simple, and nothing more than an embellishment of the truth. I give Jasmine the phony rundown.
Hudson angles himself towards me, his icy blue eyes holding my own. “After those great book recommendations she gave me, I knew I had to shoot my shot before someone else did.”
My throat works on a heavy swallow. He’s looking at me like I’m the only person in the room. He’s a better actor than I would have ever guessed.
I chat with Jasmine for a bit longer before she excuses herself to say hi to another friend of hers who just came in. With the way Jasmine and her friend’s eyes dart in my and Hudson’s direction, it’s not hard to guess the subject of their conversation.
Hudson dips his head towards me and whispers in a low, secretive voice, “You’re doing good.”
Instantly, my mind conjures up a scenario with Hudson very different to the one we’re in right now, but with him uttering very similar words: You’re doing so fucking good, baby, he rasps into my ear as I struggle to take his …
I quickly lift my drink to my lips and take a couple big sips.
Then I finally see him. Across the room, huddled amidst a group of his friends I know well, but clearly ignoring their conversation, his eyes tethered to me and Hudson.
Hudson unclasps his hand from mine. The absence of his touch feels cold, but it only lasts a second before his thick, muscular arm wraps around my shoulders and tugs me close to his side. The hard cut of his muscles against my arm has even more heat than before whooshing over me.
He leans down to whisper into my ear again, sending a waft of his cinnamon scent to my nose. “Should we put on another show for him?” he asks. His tone is casual, smooth, but there seems to be a slight edge of eagerness in his voice; an edge sharp enough to cut with.
The thought of Hudson claiming me with a kiss in the middle of this house, with so many people I know looking on, has me feeling like a puddle on the floor. “I don’t think we need to,” I say, even though there’s a center of primitive desire in my brain urging me to take him up on his offer. “Just seeing us here should be enough.”
“Hm.” That neutral grunt of acknowledgement I already know so well from Hudson. Do I detect a hint of disappointment in it this time?
I don’t have time to dwell on that question. Sean disengages from his group of friends walks in our direction. My nerves fray. But Hudson angles his arm to pull me even closer to him. He doesn’t feel tense at all, even though my ex-boyfriend is marching right towards us. His corded muscles are firm, but they’re relaxed and at ease.
“So,” Sean begins when he’s standing in front of us, his gaze burning on Hudson, a challenge laced in his tone, “you’re Hudson.”
Hudson makes a point of taking an unhurried sip of his drink before responding. “That’s right. You are?”
A scowl twitches on Sean’s face. “Sean. Summer’s ex. I’m sure she’s mentioned me.”
Hudson purses his lips. “Hm. Don’t think so. You said Steve, right?”
“Sean,” my ex barks back.
Sean’s used to fawning recognition wherever he goes on campus thanks to his status as a star in the music department. But Hudson’s treating him like a speck of dust floating in front of him.
Maybe it’s petty, but I can’t resist feeling a tiny bit of satisfaction at seeing him knocked down a peg. Especially after how much grief his ego’s put me through lately.
“Sean, got it,” Hudson answers before taking another unhurried drink. “Can’t recall her mentioning you. You went out with Summer?”
