Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
Presley
" W here did you go on Saturday night?" Reagan's voice cut through the noise of the hallway, casual but curious.
She fell into step beside me as I headed toward my locker, her eyes flicking over my face for any sign of a story.
"Evan... we had a fight," I muttered, keeping my voice low. "I told him it was over."
I didn’t offer details—Reagan didn’t need to know about Hudson Evert. She didn’t need to know I spent the night tangled in old memories with someone I once loved instead of looking after my drunk boyfriend. That was my secret, and I intended to keep it that way.
Reagan raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a smirk. "So, what changed since I saw him practically glued to your face this morning before homeroom?"
I spun the dial on my locker, avoiding her gaze. "He apologized," I said, pulling the door open. "Brought me flowers on Sunday."
She crouched beside her backpack, rummaging for something, completely unaware of the folded paper that fluttered from the top shelf of my locker to the floor. My heart skipped. Quickly, I snatched it up, shoving it into my pocket before she could notice. There was no writing on the outside of the note—just a plain, mysterious fold—and I had no idea who had left it.
"What kind of flowers?" Reagan asked, handing me a stick of gum without looking up.
"Roses," I replied, sliding the gum into my palm. "Red ones. They were beautiful."
She sighed, a dreamy expression crossing her face, and for a moment, I wondered if anyone had ever given her flowers. Reagan had a habit of burning through relationships before they had the chance to develop. That’s why most guys didn’t take her seriously. Me? I believed in making someone work for it. Except for Deke, of course.
I glanced sideways at her as she popped her gum. Deke had been different—years of quiet infatuation, followed by two days of heavy flirting, a few beers for courage, and then we slept together. I hadn’t expected declarations of love or promises of forever, and that was fine. But Evan? That was a different story. After I found his notebook, he was going to work for it, and hard. He would have to prove he deserved me.
"Everything’s good, then?" Reagan asked, standing up and slinging her bag over her shoulder.
I kept my hand in my pocket, my fingers brushing the edge of the note, wondering who had left it and what it meant. "Yeah. Good."
Reagan shoved a piece of gum into her mouth just as the first bell rang. I glanced at the clock. I should have headed to class, but the bathroom felt like a better idea right now. I’d probably be late for calculus, but it wasn’t a big deal. Mr. Basile was always slow to start, and I knew he liked me—I'd aced his trig class last year.
"You coming?" Reagan asked, already halfway down the hall.
"Bathroom," I called over my shoulder, turning toward the restroom.
Inside, I checked under the stalls—empty. Perfect. My pulse quickened as I pulled the note from my pocket, my fingers trembling slightly. There was something about it—the way the letters were blocked, the faint scent of cigarette smoke mixed with cologne that I recognized from Saturday night. Hudson’s cologne.
It had to be him.
I unfolded the paper, my eyes scanning the two short lines. To be prideful is to be full of sin.
I frowned, rubbing my forehead as the second bell rang. What the hell was Hudson talking about? Prideful? Me? I didn’t think I held myself in high regard. I wasn’t special. So why send me this?
The third bell was already ringing by the time I slid into my seat, the note safely tucked back in my pocket. Hudson’s message swirled in my mind, and I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that something was coming. Something I wasn’t ready for.
"Fuck that guy," Evan growled, glaring across the cafeteria. "How can he just fall in with our group like that?"
"Dude, he knows people from when he lived here before," Randy said, trying to calm him down.
I kept my mouth shut, my eyes flicking over to Hudson as Reagan fed him a potato chip, her giggle too loud, too forced. Evan had no idea I’d spent Saturday night with Hudson, and now that he was acting all self-righteous, I planned to avoid him. But still, seeing Reagan practically draped over him sent a twinge of jealousy through me. Hudson knew exactly what he was doing.
Evan’s arm slipped around my waist, pulling me closer. I leaned into him, pressing my breasts against his side, playing the part he expected. He grinned, lowering his voice to a whisper that sent a hot breath against my ear.
"My parents are going away this weekend."
I nodded slightly, giving him what he wanted to see, but in truth, I wasn’t sure. He hadn’t earned it.
"We’ve got a night game at John Jay," he murmured, lips brushing my ear. "You can sleep over afterward."
A shiver ran through me, but it wasn’t from excitement. I cast a glance at Hudson. His eyes were locked on me, even as Reagan tried to climb into his lap. The daggers in his gaze didn’t go unnoticed, and the jealousy that had stirred in me moments ago came flooding back. Reagan, my best friend, was staking her claim on my middle school crush, and I hated it.
"We’ll see," I whispered, noncommittal.
Evan pulled me closer, clamping his lips over mine in a possessive kiss. He was a good kisser, sure, but his arrogance, the way he acted like I owed him something—it was suffocating. I broke the kiss, untangling myself from his grip.
"I have to pee," I said, grabbing my purse.
"Hurry up. We only have a few minutes until class."
I laughed, rolling my eyes. "Since when do you care about being late?"
"Second week, and we’ve got a quiz in English," he grumbled. "Fucking Crowder. Shouldn’t have to worry about this when we’ve got an important game on the line."
I snorted and walked away, feeling Hudson’s eyes on me as I exited the cafeteria. His stare burned into my back, and sure enough, when I stepped out of the stall in the restroom, there he was. Leaning against the furthest sink, a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips, smoke curling toward the cracked window.
"What the hell are you doing in here?" I snapped. "You do know this is the girls' room, right?"
He didn’t move, just watched me with that infuriating smirk as I washed my hands, fixing my hair in the mirror like he wasn’t there. Like he didn’t matter.
"I thought you broke up with him," he said casually, blowing out a thin stream of smoke.
"My relationship is none of your business," I shot back, drying my hands. "And what was that note in my locker about? It was insulting."
Hudson quirked an eyebrow, his smirk growing. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."
I pulled the note from my pocket, crumpling it in my fist before tossing it at him. He caught it easily, unfolding it with a deliberate slowness that grated on my nerves. He glanced at the words, a slight chuckle escaping his lips.
"Sounds about right," he said, folding it back up. "But it wasn’t from me. Looks like someone else shares my opinion."
He tossed the note back, stubbing out his cigarette against the sink before flicking it out the window. The flick of his wrist was careless, dismissive, and it made my blood boil.
"Fuck off," I snapped. "I’m not prideful."
"Aren’t you?" His voice dripped with smugness, his eyes dark and challenging.
"I don’t have to listen to this," I spat, turning to leave.
But Hudson was faster. He grabbed my arm, yanking me against his chest. The sudden closeness sent my pulse racing, but not in the way Evan ever did.
"Break it off," Hudson whispered, his lips inches from mine, his grip firm but not painful. "Before he hurts you."
I jerked away, glaring up at him. "I don’t need you to protect me."
Just then, two girls walked in, their eyes widening as they spotted Hudson standing there, cigarette still smoldering in his hand. They froze, staring.
"Ladies," Hudson said smoothly, brushing past them without a second glance, leaving the bathroom door swinging in his wake.
I stood there, heart pounding, my hands trembling with the note still crumpled in my pocket.
I avoided Hudson all week. When we passed in the halls, I kept my eyes fixed on my friends, ignoring the way his presence tugged at my nerves. He seemed content to play the same game—until Friday. It was the last class of the day, and I had cheerleading practice. When I opened my locker, a note was wedged tightly in the slots, almost hidden under the mess of papers and old books.
I stared at it, folded many times over, clearly placed there with purpose. The hallways were clearing out, students rushing for the buses or the parking lot. I waited until it was almost empty before I unfolded it.
Truth or Dare.
My heart skipped. He remembered.
It was our game from years ago. We used to pass these notes back and forth in sixth grade, always circling "dare." Most of the dares back then involved stolen kisses behind the bleachers, but that was before everything changed. Before he left.
But now? We weren’t kids anymore, and the stakes felt higher. I had no idea where Hudson’s locker was now, but... I wanted to play. Despite the tension, despite the unspoken words between us, I hated the distance that had settled like a wall.
I circled dare , folded the note, and shoved it in my pocket. Whatever he had planned for me, I was ready.
As I headed for the gym, someone grabbed my arm, spinning me around. I gasped as I was yanked into the music room, the door clicking shut behind me.
Hudson stood there, his smirk already in place. "Do you have something for me?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.
He reached out, brushing his index finger down my cheek before tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch sent sparks shooting through me, igniting a warmth that pooled low in my stomach.
I swallowed, trying to keep my voice steady. "What do you think I have for you?"
His gaze held mine, dark and knowing. "You know. My locker’s number three twelve, if you haven’t made your decision yet."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "You really expect me to play our game after all this time?"
His grin widened at the sound of his old nickname slipping from my lips. "I know you want to. Don’t pretend you don’t."
"Kisses might not be part of it this time, you know. I have a boyfriend."
I reached into my pocket and handed him the folded note, feeling his fingers brush mine as he took it. The tension between us was thick, like a magnetic pull neither of us could resist.
"When can I expect my dare?" I asked, keeping my voice casual, though my heart pounded in my chest.
"As soon as I think of something." His grin was infuriatingly smug, his eyes dancing with mischief.
I pointed a finger at him, narrowing my eyes. "You can't embarrass me, Hudson. And no one can know we're playing."
He stepped closer, his thumb grazing along my jaw. "Don’t worry, princess. I promise to behave."
"Jerk," I muttered with a smile as I slipped past him, heading for the door.
He called after me, his voice full of amusement. "This is gonna be fun."
I didn’t look back, but my pulse raced as I hurried to the gym. When I walked in, everyone was already seated on the mats, listening to Coach. I slipped down beside Reagan.
Coach glanced up at me, her eyebrow raised. "Running a little late, aren’t we, Presley?"
"Sorry, Coach. Had to use the bathroom." I forced a smile.
I wasn’t in the mood for practice. In fact, I hadn’t been in the mood for a while. All summer, I’d been thinking about quitting the team. It wasn’t me anymore. The makeup, the parties, hanging out with the popular crowd—I was tired of pretending. I wanted out. College couldn’t come soon enough.
As we stood to stretch, I felt a wave of nausea hit me. I doubled over, clutching my stomach.
"Pres, you okay?" Reagan asked, her voice laced with concern.
I faked a strained breath. "My stomach..."
Everyone stared as I stumbled towards the locker room. No one followed, thankfully. Once inside, I collapsed onto the nearest bench, waiting for the dizziness to pass. The door creaked open behind me.
"Pres? Coach sent me to check on you." Reagan’s voice was soft, but I could hear the hint of suspicion.
"I’m not feeling well," I lied. "I threw up."
She wrinkled her nose. "Tuna for lunch? You probably have food poisoning."
"Yeah, maybe." I groaned dramatically, hoping she’d leave it at that.
"Want me to tell Coach you’re heading home?"
I flushed the toilet for effect and emerged from the stall. Reagan leaned against the sink, arms crossed, concern on her face—but something else flickered there too. Ambition.
"Please. I doubt I’ll make it to the game." I saw her lips twitch, the smallest hint of satisfaction crossing her face.
"That sucks. Guess you won’t be going to Evan’s this weekend either."
I shrugged, washing my hands. "He’ll survive."
"And Randy’s having another party," she added, almost as an afterthought.
"Have fun," I said, wiping my hands dry.
As we left the locker room, Reagan headed back to the gym, and I turned toward the parking lot. The drizzle outside mirrored my mood, dampening everything in its wake. When I reached my locker, another note had fallen into the clutter inside. I grabbed it, stuffing it into my pocket as I made my way out of the building.
The smell of cigarette smoke hit me the second I stepped out.
"That was quick," Hudson’s voice drawled from behind me.
I jumped, spinning around. "Jesus, you scared me."
He took one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it onto the wet ground, stomping it out. "Smoking’s not allowed on school property, you know."
I rolled my eyes. "You think I’m going to snitch?"
His lips curled into that infuriating smirk. "Didn’t think so."
I narrowed my eyes. "I’m not in the mood, Hudson."
"Yeah, I noticed." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur.
"You’re over this place. Sick of wearing that mask, pretending to be someone you’re not."
My breath caught in my throat. "You don’t know anything about me."
"Don’t I?" He held my gaze, challenging me, his eyes daring me to deny it.
I sighed, feeling the weight of his words settle into my chest. Was I that easy to figure out? Hudson had barely been around me for years, yet he saw right through me, while my own friends and family remained oblivious.
“How would you know what I’m sick of?” I asked, my voice tight.
“Because I know you,” Hudson said, running a hand through his damp hair, slicking it back. Droplets of rain fell from his skin, glistening on his leather jacket. He looked like he belonged in this storm, all brooding and beautiful.
I snorted, trying to deflect the rising emotion. “You don’t know me. You haven’t seen me in years. No one knows me.” My throat burned, and tears welled up, threatening to spill over. I turned on my heel, making a beeline for the parking lot, but I could hear his boots splashing in the puddles behind me.
When I reached my Jeep, Hudson was already at the passenger side door, slipping in beside me. His presence was infuriatingly steady, like he belonged there. I didn’t look at him until I felt his thumb brushing away a stray tear.
“I know the real you,” he whispered. “Not the one who hides behind the mask.”
I sniffled, turning away. “Can we not do this? Not right now.”
He let out a long sigh. “What do you want to do, then?”
I pulled the crumpled note from my pocket and tossed it onto the center console. “What did you write?”
He glanced at me, an amused gleam in his eyes. “Do you want me to tell you?”
I gripped the steering wheel tightly, pulling out of the parking lot. “Just read it.”
Hudson unfolded the note slowly, smoothing it over his knee like he was savoring the moment. His voice was soft, almost teasing, as he read, “Dare—break up with Evan.”
My jaw clenched as I stopped at a red light. I whipped my head toward him. “He’s my boyfriend.”
“You told me it was over,” Hudson said, his tone firm. “He’s wrong for you, and you know it.”
“And who’s right for me? You?” I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
His eyes softened. “I was once. Do you remember?”
I swallowed hard, memories flooding back—promises made, innocent and naive, before everything got complicated. “Of course I do, but we were kids. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Hudson reached across the console, his fingers brushing mine. The warmth of his hand was familiar, and for a second, I let myself remember what it felt like to be close to him. The old flame between us hadn’t died; it was just buried. But then I pulled my hand back, breaking the connection.
“You promised me forever,” he murmured.
“And you left me,” I whispered, the hurt still fresh even after all this time.
“I didn’t have a choice.” He started chewing on his thumbnail, his gaze distant, and we drove in silence. The rain beat harder against the windshield, a rhythmic drumming that matched the tension in the air.
I pulled into Fromby’s, a burger joint that would soon close for the season. The windows were fogged, the rain turning them into a watery blur. “What do you want?” Hudson asked, his voice softer now.
“Burger with cheese. Curly fries,” I said flatly.
He smirked. “Hungry?”
“I didn’t eat much for lunch,” I replied, my eyes narrowing at his teasing.
“This pretending thing is exhausting, isn’t it?” Hudson said, his tone sharp.
I shot him a look. “I said no.”
He held up his hands in surrender, running a hand through his wet hair before popping the door open. As he stepped out, he pulled his jacket collar up, shielding himself from the rain. I watched him for a moment, feeling the tug of old feelings that I wasn’t sure I could handle anymore.