Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Hudson
The apartment was quiet, the kind of peaceful silence that felt rare these days. Naomi had fallen asleep on the couch, her head resting against the cushions, her breathing soft and steady. I watched her for a moment, my chest tightening at the sight of her so relaxed, so vulnerable.
It was moments like these that reminded me how much had changed between us—how much had always been there, even when neither of us had the words to name it.
My thoughts drifted, unbidden, to a night long ago, a moment that had stayed with me like a ghost. A moment where everything could have changed, if only I’d been brave enough to let it.
We were teenagers then, still figuring out who we were and what we wanted to be. Naomi had always been a constant in my life—my best friend, my confidante, the person I trusted more than anyone. But that summer, something between us had shifted. I wasn’t sure when it had started, but by the time I noticed, it was impossible to ignore.
It was late, one of those nights when the air was warm and thick with the scent of summer. Naomi and I had been walking home after a movie, her laughter still ringing in my ears as we cut through the park to save time.
“You have to admit,” she said, her eyes bright with amusement, “the hero was completely useless. If the girl hadn’t stepped in, the whole thing would’ve fallen apart.”
“Maybe,” I said, grinning. “But he looked cool doing it.”
She rolled her eyes, nudging me with her elbow. “Cool doesn’t save the day, Hudson. Competence does.”
“Noted,” I said, laughing. “Remind me to put that on a T-shirt.”
We’d stopped near the swings, the quiet park illuminated by the faint glow of the streetlights. Naomi had sat down on one of the swings, her hands loosely gripping the chains as she swayed gently back and forth.
“Do you ever think about the future?” she asked suddenly, her voice softer.
“Sometimes,” I said, sitting on the swing beside her. “Why?”
She shrugged, her gaze fixed on the ground. “I don’t know. I guess... I just wonder where we’ll end up. If we’ll still be here. If we’ll still be us.”
The question caught me off guard, and I turned to look at her. Her face was partially hidden by her hair, but I could see the faint lines of worry around her eyes.
“We’ll always be us,” I said, my voice firm.
She glanced at me then, her lips curving into a small, wistful smile. “You can’t know that.”
“Sure I can,” I said, leaning back in the swing. “You’re stuck with me, Naomi. No getting rid of me now.”
She laughed softly, the sound warming my chest. “Good. I’d miss you if you weren’t around.”
The words were simple, but the way she said them made my pulse quicken. I stared at her, my heart pounding as a thought crept into my mind—one I’d been trying to push away for weeks.
I wanted to kiss her.
The realization hit me like a bolt of lightning, and I gripped the swing’s chains tightly, trying to steady myself. It wasn’t just a passing thought, a fleeting desire. It was something deeper, something that had been building between us for years.
“Hudson?” she said, her voice pulling me from my thoughts.
“Yeah?” I asked, my throat dry.
She tilted her head, studying me. “You’re quiet. That’s not like you.”
I shrugged, forcing a grin. “Just thinking.”
“About?” she pressed, her curiosity piqued.
“About how much you overanalyze movies,” I teased, hoping to deflect.
She rolled her eyes but smiled, her laughter soft and genuine. “You’re impossible.”
I watched her, the words I wanted to say caught in my throat. She looked so beautiful in that moment, her face lit by the faint glow of the streetlights, her hair slightly tousled from the breeze. I wanted to tell her how I felt, to close the distance between us and see if her lips tasted as sweet as they looked.
But I didn’t.
I was too scared—scared of ruining what we had, scared of losing her if she didn’t feel the same. So I stayed silent, locking the moment away in my mind like a secret I’d never share.
In the present, I sighed, running a hand through my hair as the memory faded. The ache in my chest was still there, a dull reminder of the opportunities I’d let slip through my fingers.
Naomi stirred on the couch, her head tilting slightly as she shifted in her sleep. I watched her, my heart tightening as I thought about how far we’d come, how much we’d overcome to get to this point.
I wanted her back then, but I was too much of a coward to admit it.
Never again.