Chapter 19 #2
Hudson leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes for a second.
“You're not going to figure it out by hiding out here." Taylor gave him a look. "Come on. Let's get you another drink. Worst case, you go home exactly as confused as when you got here. Best case, you actually enjoy yourself for five minutes."
Hudson snorted. "That's your pep talk?"
"Yes. And I’m sticking to it."
His little sister, acting like she had all the answers. "When did you get so wise?"
"I've always been wise. You just never noticed because you were too busy being full of yourself."
A guy in a mesh top—drenched in sweat and apparently unaware that personal space existed—squeezed past Taylor on his way to the bathroom. She shuttered, then turned back to Hudson. "On second thought. Pizza place down the street. Let's go."
Hudson didn’t argue.
They headed for the exit, weaving through the crowd. As they passed his booth, Derek had already moved on—same lazy lean against the table, same smile, different guy.
Hudson held the door open for Taylor. "Think he noticed we left?"
Taylor glanced back. "I think he's already forgotten your name."
"Perfect."
The cold outside was a relief after the heat of the bar. Hudson took a deep grounding breath.
"So," Taylor said as they started walking. "On a scale of one to ten, how attractive was Derek?"
"Maybe a five?"
"Could've been worse."
"Could've been better."
"Baby steps, Huds. Baby steps.”
The pizza place was called Joe's, which was about as creative as naming a bar Therapy, but at least it smelled amazing. The kind of greasy, cheese-heavy amazing that made Hudson's mouth water the second they walked through the door.
"God, I've missed real food," Hudson said, breathing in the scent of pepperoni and garlic.
"They feed you on base, right?" Taylor asked, scanning the menu board like she hadn't been here a hundred times.
"They feed us, but I wouldn't call it food."
Groups of friends filled booths, alongside a few couples and some solo diners hunched over slices at the counter. The fluorescent lighting was harsh, the floor questionable, and Hudson immediately loved the authenticity of it all.
They got in line behind a group of high school-aged kids arguing loudly about whether pineapple belonged on pizza.
"It's fruit," one of them said. "Fruit doesn’t go on pizza."
"Tomatoes are fruit," someone else countered.
"What? I thought tomatoes were vegetables."
Taylor leaned in close to Hudson. "Twenty bucks this turns into a fistfight."
"My money’s on the anti-pineapple guy," Hudson decided.
They shuffled forward in line. The guy behind the counter barely looked up—just pointed at the menu board and waited for people to decide.
"What are you getting?" Taylor asked.
"Pepperoni. Maybe sausage."
"Boring." She studied the menu. "I'm getting the white pizza with arugula."
"That's not pizza. That's salad on bread."
"It's sophisticated."
"It's a waste of cheese."
"You're a waste of cheese."
Hudson snorted. "That doesn't even make sense."
"Your face doesn't make sense."
"Are we twelve?"
"You started it."
They reached the counter. The guy gave them a welcoming smile. "What can I get you?"
Taylor ordered her salad-on-bread. Hudson ordered pepperoni and sausage. The guy wrote it down without comment, took their payment, and told them it'd be about ten minutes.
They grabbed a booth near the window, sliding in across from each other. Taylor immediately stole a handful of napkins from the dispenser and started folding them into elaborate shapes.
"What are you doing?" Hudson asked.
"It's a swan."
"It's a crumpled napkin."
"You have no vision." She held up what might have been a swan if you squinted and had a very generous imagination. "See?"
Hudson grabbed his own napkin and started folding it, determined to one-up her. Within thirty seconds he'd created something that seemed vaguely origami-adjacent.
"What is that?" Taylor asked.
"A crane."
"That's not a crane."
"Who made you the origami-expert?"
They were both laughing when someone cleared their throat.
The counter guy stood next to their booth holding two plates. The corner of his mouth pulled up. "Pepperoni and sausage?" he said, setting one plate down in front of Hudson.
"Yeah. Thanks."
"And the sophisticated salad." He set Taylor's plate down with enough emphasis on 'sophisticated' that Hudson knew he'd overheard their entire argument.
"See?" Taylor said triumphantly. "Sophisticated."
The guy chuckled, shifting his gaze to the crumpled napkins on the table, then to Hudson. "Nice crane."
"It's abstract," Hudson said.
"I can see that." He was definitely grinning now. "Very... interpretive."
"Thank you."
Up close, Hudson clocked his green eyes, scattered freckles and a dusting of flour on his forearm. He was attractive. Not in the polished, practiced way Derek had been. More... real. His expression was kind and his smile was genuine and—
Oh.
"You two need anything else?" the guy asked.
Taylor shot Hudson a look that very clearly said say something, dumbass.
Hudson's brain scrambled for words that weren't embarrassing. "Uh. Yeah. No. We're good. Thanks."
"Cool. Enjoy." The guy turned to go.
"Wait," Hudson said before he could stop himself.
He stopped. "Yeah?"
Hudson had absolutely no idea what he was going to say. His brain was providing zero helpful suggestions. Taylor stared at him with an expression of delighted anticipation.
"Is it..." Hudson stopped. Tried again. "Do you work here a lot?"
Oh my god. That was the best he could do?
But the guy didn't seem to think it was stupid. He tilted his head slightly, considering. "Most nights. Why?"
"Just wondering." Heat crawled up Hudson’s neck. "It's good pizza."
"Thanks. I didn't make it, but I'll pass that along to Joe."
Taylor’s mouth dropped open. "There's actually a Joe?"
"There's actually a Joe. He's in the back having strong opinions about pineapple." He smirked, eyes flicking back to Hudson. "I should get back," he said, gesturing toward the counter where a line was forming. "But uh. Enjoy the pizza."
"Yeah. Thanks."
He left and Hudson stared at his pizza.
"Oh my god," Taylor said the second he was out of earshot. "You were flirting."
"I wasn't flirting."
"You were absolutely flirting. Badly, but still." Taylor grinned wide enough that Hudson wanted to throw his napkin crane at her. "Did you see the way he looked at you?"
He picked up his pizza and took a bite. His pulse hadn’t quite settled. "You're reading too much into it."
Taylor leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Okay. Scale of one to ten?"
Hudson chewed his pizza, considering. "I don't know. Seven? Eight?"
"See?" Taylor sat back, looking smug. "You are into guys. It's not just Elliot."
Hudson took another bite of pizza, letting that sink in. Maybe she was right. The interest had been there—real and unprompted and slightly inconvenient.
"Okay," he said. "So maybe I am into guys."
"Groundbreaking."
"Shut up. I’m having a moment."
"What does it make you, hopelessly bisexual?"
Hudson snorted. "Hopelessly something."
"Well." Taylor leaned back, satisfied. "I’m getting you a flag."
Hudson shot her a pointed look.
"Fine." She grinned. "But I am telling mom."
Hudson dropped his head to the table with a grunt.
"Relax, I’m kidding." She picked at her arugula for a second. "But—don’t run from it, okay? Real connection is worth the risk." She didn’t look at him when she said it. "Not everyone leaves, Huds."
Hudson didn’t answer, he just stared at his pizza.
He knew she wasn’t only talking about Shaw.