Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
Cullen
Prom was an absolute blast. Everyone let go of any drama and just had fun. We danced in a huge group most of the time, except when a slow song came on, then people paired off until the beat picked back up and we all piled in again.
Ella even pulled me into a slow dance with her and Hudson.
Hud and I exchanged a surprised glance, but she just smirked and said, “Enjoy the moment, boys.” She grabbed my hand, hooked one arm around my shoulder and the other around Hudson’s waist, creating a full-on throuple dance.
We weren’t the only ones doing it either, so we didn’t totally stand out.
I don't know if Ella realized it or not, but the gesture meant a lot.
Unsurprisingly, Hadley won prom queen, and Archer won prom king.
They did their obligatory slow dance under the spotlight, and when the emcee suggested they finish it with their dates, Hadley hesitated.
She’d come as a fifth wheel with Maggie, Katie, and their dates, and if we hadn’t broken up, I would’ve been there with her.
I made a split-second decision and walked over, holding out my hand. I halfway expected her to tell me to fuck off, but she surprised the hell out of me when she took my hand with a grateful smile on her face.
We danced next to Archer and Theo, who didn’t give a single fuck that they were the only same-sex couple there. They got catcalls and cheers from the crowd, which made me happy. It gave me hope that maybe when Hud and I go public, we’ll get the same kind of support.
When the song ended, Hadley thanked me for stepping in to dance with her and left it at that. I can’t say that she forgives me yet, but I can see that maybe we will eventually get there.
Now it’s Monday, and we’re all sitting at lunch, still buzzing from prom. Exams start in a few days, so we’re trying to ride the fun a little longer before the stress hits.
I’m halfway zoned out, reliving prom highlights, when Ella’s laugh brings me back. “I tried to tell her the cupcake was too much, but she wouldn’t listen when we were dress shopping,” she remarks, pointing at something on Hudson’s phone.
They must be looking through prom pics. I’ve looked at the ones my mom took a dozen times already.
She caught a candid of Hudson pinning on my boutonniere, his face scrunched with concentration.
It instantly became my favorite. So much so that I made it my home screen.
Risky move, but seeing Archer and Theo be so open is making me itch to do the same.
I think it’s time Hud and I talk about telling Hadley.
“Hudson Daniels?” The entire table goes quiet at the front office clerk’s voice. My heartrate picks up, wondering why Hud is being singled out.
“Yes, ma’am?” Hud replies.
“You’re wanted in Principal Ward’s office for a quick meeting.”
Hud goes pale, his bouncing knee vibrating the table. “Am I in trouble?”
“I’m just the messenger, dear. Now if you’ll follow me…” She turns and walks away.
Hud reluctantly stands up and follows. I quickly shoot him a text, hoping he’ll see it before next period, if he’s even out of the meeting by then.
“I wonder what that’s about,” I mutter.
Ella’s voice cuts in, loud. “Probably has something to do with all those notes Hudson got last week.” She looks up from the orange she was peeling, oblivious to the word vomit she just spewed.
My stomach drops, and the table goes dead silent, all eyes swinging to me.
“What notes?” Matt asks, his light brows drawing together as he looks at Ella.
I try to catch her eye, willing her to shut up, but she barrels ahead. “Someone has been putting threatening notes in Hudson’s, mine, and Cullen’s lockers. I haven’t gotten any more, but Hudson has. He said he thought about telling Principal Ward. I guess he finally did.”
My hand tightens around my soda bottle, rage simmering just under my skin. So much for no more secrets between Hud and me.
I’ll deal with him later.
But right now? Ella better pray I don’t climb across this table and wring her neck.
“What did the notes say?” Archer asks me.
“Nothing that concerns anyone here,” I snap.
Archer throws his hands up in surrender and turns back to his lunch.
“I’ll see y’all later,” I grumble, pushing up from the table and heading out of the cafeteria. My phone buzzes. It’s a thumbs up from Hud, replying to my message.
The bell rings, so I make my way to my locker and swap out books for anatomy and physiology.
“You didn’t know about the other notes?”
I grit my teeth at Ella’s voice behind me. I turn to find her standing there, arms crossed and eyes red-rimmed.
“Are you high? Is that why you can’t keep your mouth shut?” I shoot back.
She just shrugs. “Maybe you should think about why he confided in me and not you.” Then she walks off, leaving a trail of smugness in her wake.
I go to slam my locker—but freeze. There is a folded piece of paper wedged between two notebooks. My name is scrawled across the front in that same messy handwriting.
Does his dick taste as good as it looks? I can’t wait to sample it myself.
My vision tunnels, and my hands begin to shake. I shove the books back into my locker, slam the door, and storm out to the parking lot. I’ve got exams to study for and need those notes, but I’m too pissed off to care.
I pull out my key fob, but just as I reach my truck, I see something tucked under the windshield wiper.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I yell into the empty parking lot. I rip the paper free—another photo. This time, it’s a print of Hud and me in my front yard, posing for prom pictures, except my face has been scratched out.
Now I’m not just angry. I’m scared. Someone’s following us, and they clearly don't want me in the picture. Literally.
I fire off a new text to Hudson, canceling out my earlier one, then pull up the cop’s number from the brick incident.
I tell him I got another photo and note, and that Hudson’s been getting more, too.
He tells me they already have Hud’s notes on file and instructs me to bring mine in to add to the evidence when I get the chance.
Which is now.
I jump in the truck and call my mom, asking if she will meet me at the station. I know she has a full schedule of house showings today, and I feel guilty that I’m pulling her away for this shit.
We pull into the station at the same time. I get out, jittery and wired, scanning the lot like I’m being hunted. My head’s on a swivel, half expecting someone to pop out of the shadows with a camera.
“We’ll figure this out, sweetie.” Mom calms me, rubbing a hand up and down my back as we walk into the station.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, but I don’t need to look to know it’s Hudson. I’m still upset he lied again, so I silence it just as the officer from before walks out from behind the desk.
“Cullen, Mrs. Anderson. Good to see you again.” He welcomes us kindly, then leads us back through a door and into a drab interrogation room that smells vaguely of mildew.
“The detective will be taking over the case now that it’s escalating,” he explains, then turns and leaves us in the cold room.
We sit in silence, and my knee won’t stop bouncing, my nerves buzzing. My phone lights up on the table again, making me jump. My knee smacks the underside of the table with a loud thunk. Well, that stopped the bouncing, at least.
HUD: Where did you go? Is everything okay?
“You should answer him,” Mom encourages.
Ignoring her, I just stare at the screen, teeth clenched.
Why can’t he be honest with me? I don’t know what else I can do to prove my worth.
The door opens, and in walks a middle-aged man with a seventies porn ‘stache and the most cliche outfit I’ve ever seen. His plaid sport coat’s too big, khakis wrinkled, and I’m pretty sure that’s a coffee stain near the zipper. He looks like a shady detective straight out of some B-movie.
Fantastic.
My hopes sink straight through the floor.
“Sorry to keep you folks waiting. It’s busy when you’re the only detective in this unit,” he boasts, puffing out his chest like a badge of honor. That’s not much to brag about since our town has fewer than fifteen thousand people, and occasional graffiti tag aside, there's no crime.
“I’m Detective Whitfield. I’ll be taking over your case from the boys in blue.” He sticks out a meaty hand, dry as the Sahara, and flashes a yellowed smile.
Mom beats me to it, taking his hand gingerly. “I’m Eliza Anderson, and this is my son, Cullen.”
“Nice to meet ya.” He nods. “Officer Martinez gave me the rundown on what’s happened so far, and I can assure you, we’re going to get to the bottom of this.
Our town doesn’t tolerate hate crimes.” He punctuates it with a dramatic fist pound on the table.
“When we figure out who’s behind this, they’ll be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. ”
What does he think this is? Law and Order?
“You think this is a hate crime?” I ask, my throat suddenly dry.
“Well, given the nature of the photos and notes, it appears that way. It’s the most logical conclusion.”
“What do Hudson’s notes say?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t share details of that evidence. It was provided by the other party involved. I can tell you that some of the content was sexually explicit, others threatening.”
Mom bristles. “You think it’s a hate crime when the notes are sexually explicit?
” She leans forward, eyes sharp. “Sounds more like someone’s obsessed and you're labeling it a hate crime to serve your own political ambitions. Tell me, if Cullen were in a heterosexual relationship, would this still be considered a hate crime?”
Detective Whitfield blinks. His stunned expression lasts only a moment before he slaps on a greasy smile. “Eliza. May I call you Eliza?”