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I lean closer because I just can’t fucking stop myself. I can’t stop my attraction to her. I can’t stop wanting her, even when I shouldn’t. Dropping my gaze from hers, I watch as her lips part, and she licks them, her breath quickening when she realizes that I’m staring at her lips like I want to devour her whole, like the big bad wolf.
“Hudson…” she breathes as I lean in, our lips centimeters apart, so close that I could close the distance, finally giving in and taking her mouth like I’ve been dying to since the night she left me in that fucking closet.
But I can’t.
I fucking can’t.
I have to be strong. I have to resist her, even if it fucking kills me, because she’s my coach’s daughter and she’sthirteenyears younger than me… and we’re already treading too close to hot water.
Clearing my throat, I stand and hold out my hand. “Time to get you home.”
Because it’s thegentlemanlything to do.
8
CAROLINE
“Okay, this was the best idea ever. I amsoglad we came,” I say to Tatum, who took the cowgirl theme to a whole new level with a diamond-encrusted cowboy hat. She raises her tequila shot, and we lick the salt, shoot it back, and suck the lime, both of our lips puckering from the bitter burn.
“Told you!” She grins. “This is my favorite bar on campus, and the fact that they don’t look twice at my fake ID is just a plus. I can’t believe it took us this long to get here.”
Between schoolwork picking up and the internship, I’ve been swamped. Plus, I had my sorority duties on top of that and haven’t had much time for “fun.”
So I couldn’t turn Tatum down when she said we had to come out tonight. Even if I’ll be paying for it tomorrow when I’m dragging ass. And since we’re technically not old enough to drink, the fake ID did come in clutch. We’re on our second round of shots. Or is it third? I’m not drunk… yet, but I’m definitely feeling the looseness as the alcohol courses through my body.
The bar itself is packed full to the brim, people spilling out of the booths wearing cowboy hats, chaps, and obnoxiously large belt buckles. Obviously, the students of Northwestern take these themes very seriously when it comes to two-for-one drink specials.
Honestly, it’s so fun to see everyone dress up like this, and I’m feeling good in the cutoff denim shorts Tatum let me borrow, along with the hot pink cowgirl hat.
“How about we get another drink and go dance? This song is the best!” she says, gesturing to the speakers above our heads.
Oh god.
“Is that…Jessica Simpson?” I laugh, shaking my head.
“Yep. These boots were made fordancing, baby, let’s go!” She grabs my hand and tugs me toward the dance floor, which is quickly filling up with people, the sound of boots hitting the wooden floor.
Tatum and I dance, shaking our asses to this ridiculous throwback “These Boots Are Made for Walkin,” but in our case… dancing. I twirl Tatum around, both of us giggling until my stomach hurts from laughing, and when the song fades out, we step off the dance floor, both of us holding on to each other.
“Oh my god, have I mentioned that I love you? No, seriously, I’m so thankful we ended up together as roommates,” she says.
“Not as thankful as I am. My best friend, Lena, from back home was worried I’d end up with someone who likes to go through my stuff when I’m not there or someone who was bitchy, but I got the exact opposite. The universe knew I needed a kick-ass new bestie to survive this year.”
Her face lights up as she smiles, and then her gaze flits behind me before widening. “Oh my god.”
“What? What is it?” I go to turn around to see where she’s staring, but she grabs my arm and shakes her head.
“Hudson freakin’ Rome and Noah Chaney just walked through the door.” Her voice rises an octave, and she grips my hand as she fangirls like a celebrity just walked in the door.
And I guess to most people in Chicago… he is a celebrity. But to me, he’s just… Hudson. Though I can’t ignore the swirling feeling in my stomach that fluttered at the mention of his name.
It’s been exactly four days since the night we ate fancy grilled cheese by the riverfront and talked about our lives, our fears. When he told me about his parents and how they’re the epitome of love and how he grew up in a home filled with love. How his sister is his best friend and how his friends and family make his life go round.
The night when he almost kissed me, even though I could see the war he was fighting with himself raging behind his gaze as that familiar tension hung in the air between us. I could see how close he was to giving in. And then, he cleared his throat and brought me home, dropping me down the street from the house.
Four days that I haven’t stopped thinking about him.
Even when I know I shouldn’t.
