Chapter 27
CHAPTER 27
Hudson
T he faded facade of Fromby's stood defiant against the dreary October backdrop, its weathered sign proclaiming one final weekend of greasy indulgence until it was closed for the season. I sat in my truck in the far corner of the parking lot, inhaling the aroma of a triple cheeseburger and chili fries as raindrops danced across my windshield.
A sleek black Audi sliced through the downpour, catching my eye as it pulled into the lot. Even before the driver's side door swung open, I recognized Evan's car—and the familiar figure that emerged. The spoiled little fucker, never content with what he had.
Evan didn't bother with an umbrella, simply yanking up the hood of his football jacket as he bounded towards the entrance. But it wasn't until his companion leaned out that my blood began to boil. Reagan, her lips a vivid slash of crimson against the dismal gray, slapped Evan's ass playfully before pulling the door shut.
Of course she was with him. If Presley refused to put out, Evan would simply find his entertainment elsewhere. And Reagan, poor deluded thing, would keep throwing herself at him no matter how he used her.
I watched him weave through the sparse crowd huddled beneath the overhang, Evan pausing to chat while Reagan preened in front of her compact mirror in the car. Quickly, I snapped a few photos—not that Presley would need proof, but it never hurt to have evidence.
Minutes later, Evan reappeared, cradling a greasy bag and a large cup, boldly making his way back to the Audi without a care in the world. As if he didn't have a girl waiting for him at home, even if their relationship was forced. You'd think the prick would at least try to be discreet about his indiscretions.
I lingered a while longer, shoveling fries into my mouth as I scrolled Instagram. There, a new post from Presley: a picture of her in sweats, looking cozy and content. I hate rainy days , her caption read.
I hated them too and would much prefer to be in bed with her. I reasoned that she wasn’t cheating because Evan blackmailed her into dating him again. I would gladly take my punishment to save Presley from his clutches, but she wouldn’t listen to reason – all for that stupid notebook.
The rain came down harder, obscuring the parking lot in a smudge of color. I turned the truck on and hit the wipers before I backed out. With Evan here, I would stop by to see Presley and maybe help her rainy day improve. I was reluctant to get up this morning since my bed smelled of her. I wouldn’t change my sheets until it faded and I couldn’t smell her scent any longer.
I rested my hand on the waistband of Presley’s sweatpants as her tongue tangled with mine. I parked down the street, several houses away just in case Evan stopped by but since he was hanging with Reagan, I doubted he would.
“Do it,” she muttered against my lips.
I slipped inside her pants, splaying my hand until I fingered her cleft. She arched her back, egging me on to touch her and I granted her silent request, sliding my finger over her clit. She hissed as I breached her opening, sliding inside with two fingers and using the heel of my hand to work her swollen bundle of nerves.
“You are beautiful,” I whispered as I pressed a kiss to her ear.
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she panted.
I bit into her chin. “There are no other girls, there never were.”
She grabbed my wrist, gripping it hard. “Don’t stop,” she begged.
I fucked her faster with my fingers and she threw her head back, moaning my name as she hit her release. I kissed the corner of her mouth and removed my hand, licking her essence off my fingers.
“I wish you could sleep over,” Presley said.
“Me too but we got shit to figure out. Did you talk to Neil?” I asked.
“He won’t say anything. I think he’s starting to understand that Evan is using him to get to me.”
I slammed my eyebrows together. “Your brother is better off staying away from him. Tell him.”
She snuggled against my chest. “I have. Whether he listens to me is another story. He likes hanging with the older guys.”
“But he’s not older.”
She sighed. “Two more weeks and football is over. The team isn’t going anywhere in the postseason.”
I cupped her chin. “I want you to stop protecting me. I can handle it. Alex will get me a lawyer.”
She wrenched her head away. “Don’t tell me what to do. If I dump Evan, he won’t only turn you in. He’s a vindictive fuck.”
I sat up. “So, you want to continue with this?”
“Hudson, I can find that notebook. He has it somewhere in his room. I could kick myself for not taking it when I first found it.”
“And when he finds out, what’s going to stop him from turning us in?”
“Because we’ll have ammunition with that notebook.”
I smirked. “What’s his nickname?”
She snorted. “VIP. Stupid dick.”
Her phone vibrated and she reached for it, swiping the screen. “Evan,” she mouthed.
I leaned against the wall while she took the call, listening to him gaslight her and make it seem like he was hanging out at home.
Fucking dick. She already knows you were screwing around with her best friend.
Presley reached for my hand, her grip tightening as she lied to Evan about her plans. Her voice was steady, but I could feel the tension in her fingers. When she finally ended the call, she tossed the phone back on her nightstand with a frustrated sigh before crawling into my lap.
“God, I hate him so much,” she muttered, burying her face in my shoulder.
“What did he want this time?” I asked, though the answer was already forming in my mind.
“He wants to have lunch tomorrow at Testa’s,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain.
I let out a low whistle. Testa’s was no ordinary spot—it was an upscale Italian restaurant, and Presley loved their chicken parmigiana. It was a place her family frequented for special occasions.
“Who’s he trying to impress now?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Me, apparently,” she replied with a bitter laugh. “His parents are back tomorrow, but I’m sure he’ll try to talk me into going back to his place.”
I kissed her temple gently, feeling the soft shiver that ran through her. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” I murmured.
She straddled me, her arms wrapping around my neck as she tucked her head under my chin. “I know,” she whispered. “I just wish it wasn’t so complicated.”
I held her close, savoring the warmth of her body against mine. The rain pattered softly against the window, creating a cocoon of intimacy around us. This was where I wanted to be, wrapped up in her on a cold, rainy day, far away from the chaos that Evan brought into her life.
Three days went by with Presley either ignoring me completely or giving me one-word answers whenever I tried to start a conversation. I racked my brain trying to figure out what I'd done wrong but came up empty.
In film class that afternoon, she strolled in just as the opening credits for Sunset Boulevard began to roll. Without so much as a glance in my direction, she plopped down in the seat directly in front of me.
I leaned forward, keeping my voice low. "Hey, what's going on with you lately?"
She stayed facing forward, not even turning her head an inch. "Nothing."
"C'mon, Pres. You've been shutting me out for days. Did I do something?"
She let out an exasperated sigh but remained stone-faced, eyes glued to the screen at the front of the room.
I pressed on, unwilling to let it go. "If I've upset you, I wish you'd just tell me. The silent treatment is killing me here."
Finally, she twisted around to face me, her eyes blazing with hurt. “I can’t talk to you right now,” she hissed.
Bewildered, I could only shake my head. Her jaw clenched and she turned back towards the front, effectively ending the conversation.
My chest tightened as I sank back in my seat, more confused and worried than ever. Whatever was eating at her, it was big – and I had no clue where to even start fixing it.
As the film continued for what was left of the fifty minutes of class, I couldn’t concentrate on the screen. I wrote her a note and tapped her shoulder, letting it go so it slid down her chest. In the dark, I heard the paper crumple in her fist, but she made no attempt to look at the note.
Mr. Bailey stopped the film five minutes early to hand out the reports we did on the Alfred Hitchcock films we viewed. I patiently waited for him to give me mine hoping to talk to Presley before she ran from class, but she was out the door before that happened.
I glanced at the floor under her chair and saw the note I gave her, the word “truth” glaring at me in blue ink. I swiped it into my hand, shoving it in my pocket. The last time she spoke to me was Saturday when we spent a couple of hours in her room, kissing and cuddling.
Now she was like a glacier.
“Very good, Mr. Evert,” Mr. Bailey said as he handed me my paper.
It was an A, but I had no doubt it would be. I nodded with a tight smile, took the report from his hand and shoved it into my backpack, hurrying from the classroom. The halls were packed with students getting ready to go home. Near the double doors leading out to the parking lot, I caught a glimpse of Presley.
I followed, shoving my way through the crowded hall to get to her before she left but I was too late as her jeep peeled out of the parking lot, heading for the exit.
“Fuck!”
Behind me, I heard giggling. “Trouble in paradise?” Reagan asked.
I whirled around. “Mind your business,” I said.
“Are you pissed she’s back with Evan?” she asked, her words dripping with venom.
“Don’t you have cheerleading practice?”
She shook her head. “Coach is sick today, no practice. I have a free afternoon,” she said as she stepped closer to me.
I rolled my eyes. “Not interested,” I said, heading for my truck.
“She’ll never be yours again,” she called.
I shoved my backpack in my truck as she got to my door. “Stop fucking around with him. Evan is using you,” I blurted.
Her face contorted in pain. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Did you have fun with him Saturday afternoon?”
Reagan’s face went white as a ghost. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you? How was Fromby’s?”
She coughed. “We were bored.”
“Cut the crap. He’s dating Presley and fucking you on the side. Your best friend….”
I let that sink in. Her hand tightened around the strap of her purse.
“Did you ever think he was using Presley? Trying to make ME jealous,” Reagan said, jamming her finger into her chest.
I laughed sarcastically. “You’re fucking delusional. He wants the queen, not the court jester.”
She slammed her hand into my shoulder. “You’re a fucking asshole.”
“And you’re pathetic,” I said, slipping into my truck and yanking the door closed.
Reagan gave me the finger as I gunned the engine when I started up the engine. She sauntered away, meeting some girls who were clustered by a black SUV, probably her cheerleading friends.
I swung out of the parking lot and navigated toward Presley’s house. Since Evan was practicing, I didn’t expect her to be anywhere other than there but when I passed by her house, her car wasn’t in the driveway. I parked two houses down at the curb and called her, it went right to voicemail.
“I’m not sure what I did but you can’t just close me out. I love you, Presley,” I said before I hung up.
I settled into my usual spot, idly scrolling through my phone while keeping an eye on the Rossis’ driveway. Presley’s jeep was nowhere in sight. After an hour of futile waiting, frustration gnawed at me. I gave up and decided to head home.
This weekend was Halloween, and my mother had gone all out with the decorations. A huge blow-up witch loomed over our front yard, cackling mechanically when motion was detected. Several pumpkins, their faces carved into various expressions of ghoulish delight, lined the pathway to the front door. The sight of it all should have lifted my spirits, but today, it felt like a mockery of my mood.
I parked the truck and trudged up the steps, the witch’s laughter ringing in my ears. The contrast between the festive yard and the heaviness in my chest was almost too much to bear. My mom popped her head out of the kitchen, a cheerful smile on her face.
“Hey, Hudson! How was your day?”
I forced a smile. “It was fine, Mom. Just tired.”
She gave me a knowing look but didn’t press. “Well, there’s apple cider in the fridge if you want some. And I could use a hand with the finishing touches on the yard later.”
“Sure, Mom. I’ll help out in a bit,” I said, heading up to my room. The truth was, I needed some time to clear my head.
Once inside, I flopped onto my bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything. Presley’s distance, the uncertainty of it all—it weighed on me more than I wanted to admit. My phone buzzed with a text, and I grabbed it, hoping it was Presley. But it was just a group chat notification from my classmates about the upcoming Halloween party.
I sighed and tossed the phone aside, closing my eyes. The weekend loomed ahead, filled with the promise of festivities and distractions. But all I wanted was to figure things out with Presley, to understand what was going on in her head and heart.
Eventually, I dragged myself downstairs to help my mom with the decorations. As we strung fake cobwebs and positioned plastic skeletons, I tried to lose myself in the simple tasks, hoping that by keeping my hands busy, my mind might find some semblance of peace.
But as the witch let out another eerie cackle, I couldn’t help but think that the real hauntings were the unresolved feelings and unanswered questions that lingered in the shadows of my thoughts.