12. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Hudson
It’s been a horrible day but I can only take us ending up in room thirteen as a sign. Silly, maybe, but sometimes it’s the little things that help me calm down.
Thirteen was my jersey number in college. Everyone told me it was bad luck, meaning I was bad luck, but I proved them wrong. I was the best safety the team had.
I will also say not being alone, for once, helps.
Typically being alone makes me feel better because I don’t have to worry about what someone else might do or say, but in this situation?
I’d rather not be alone. I have no idea where the hell we are, and this hotel looks like it was the inspiration for Psycho .
So yeah, I’ll take comfort in being with Trey.
Trey lets us into the room after fighting with the key since it wouldn’t budge once in the lock. I thought he’d have to go back to the office, but he figured it out. That would have been a mental break for me right this moment.
Trey groans as he enters the room, and I step in after him, prepared to see roaches or blood on the walls.
Surprisingly, the room is nice. Updated and clean. The issue, and what I assume he’s groaning about, is the fact that there’s only one bed.
He turns to look at me with a frown. “Well, it won’t be the first time we’ve shared a bed.”
“I was drunk the last time.”
“Does that matter?”
“I guess not.”
I drop my bag on the floor by the chair and take a seat.
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a quick shower,” he says.
I shoo him with my hand, letting my eyes fall closed. I need a moment or two so I can get myself together.
I listen to Trey digging through his bag, muttering to himself.
Then the bathroom door shuts with a soft click.
The shower turns on. The curtain pulls back.
Closes again. I hear the difference in the water as he stands under it, and find myself imagining him washing himself.
He was always a bit leaner in build than the rest of us, but still toned and trim in all the right places.
Part of me wonders if he’s still sporting that definition or if he’s backed off.
If his once defined hips are softer now. I shake my head to dispel the thoughts.
I take deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves as I listen to Trey in the shower.
After a few moments, I’m feeling well enough that I’m able to get up and look through my suitcase for something to change into.
I grab the first pair of sweats I find and change quickly before Trey walks out.
Not that we haven’t seen each other naked before, but the circumstances are different.
That’s stuff college kids do because they don’t care, but not adults. Adults have boundaries.
I get onto the bed, crossing my ankles, and grab the remote from the end table to turn on the TV. I skim through the channels for something to watch, but find nothing of interest, so I click on something at random and close my eyes.
It’s still early, but I could sleep. After the stress of the day, maybe sleeping would be my best bet.
The bathroom door opens, and I glance that way. Trey walks out dressed in black sweatpants and a white t-shirt, steam billowing out after him.
“Shower pressure sucks, but the water is hot,” he comments. He gets into the bed on the opposite side, lying similarly to the way I am. “What are we watching?”
“No clue.” I hand him the remote.
The bed is a full, meaning it’s small as hell, so we’re practically on top of each other. There’s no point in complaining or telling him to ask for another room, because it’s just not that big of a deal. It’s one night. And if Trey cared, he’d handle it.
He goes through the channels and chooses something I don’t recognize. I don’t watch a lot of TV or movies. Never really have.
The warmth from his skin emanates off him, heating my side.
It’s kind of nice. I hadn’t realized how cold and clammy my skin still is from the trek in the rain.
The light from the TV shines back on him, making his wet, dark, messy hair stand out all the more.
His eyebrows narrow as he focuses on the TV, and I get a good look at his side profile.
Trey was always a good-looking guy. I swear everywhere we went, all he had to do was blink at a girl or two, and they’d come running.
In so many ways, he looks exactly the same, but then there are moments, like right now, when he looks like someone else.
Older. Rougher. Maybe a little tired, though I guess this kind of fucked-up day will do that to a person. I turn my attention back to the TV, not wanting to make him feel weird with my staring at him like he’s a science experiment.
“You think anyone will deliver right now?” he asks as he clicks the remote.
I can’t help but laugh at his question. I look at him and find him smirking at me. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah, I’m starving.”
“Honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised if they were, despite the warnings.”
Trey pulls out his phone and looks through it, so I go back to staring at the ceiling and dreaming of sleep. Problem is if I sleep now, I’ll be up at 2:00 am and unable to go back to sleep.
My phone vibrates a few times, so I grab it from the nightstand.
“Hey, my flight was delayed,” I say.
Trey laughs. “Is there an option to switch it for something tomorrow?”
“I’ll check.” I go through all the options and don’t see anything for that, but I think if it’s delayed a certain amount of time, I can change it myself and get reimbursed for this. I don’t really care about the money. I just want to go home.
“Fuck yes!” Trey says excitedly. “There’s a pizza place that says it’s still delivering. You want something?”
“Damn right I do.” I smirk at Trey.
He hands me the phone. “Put in whatever you want, but I am paying for it.”
I roll my eyes and take the phone, adding in a plain cheese pizza and fries.
“Nothing to drink?” he asks when he takes his phone back.
“Good point. Water, please.”
He does a few things on his phone, then says, “Says it’ll be here in thirty minutes, but I’m going to say that’s inaccurate.”
I huff a laugh, put my phone down, and rest my hands behind my head.
“You feeling better?” Trey asks, his tone soft.
“A little,” I admit. “Thank you for coming to save me.”
“Any time, Huds. That’s what friends are for.”
My chest aches at the word, and I can’t help myself. I roll back to face him.
“You still consider us friends?”
His brows furrow. “Of course I do. Don’t you?”
I shrug. “I mean, I guess. But… we’re different people now. How do we know we still like each other?”
“Well, for starters—” He turns toward me on his side, meeting my gaze.
“We had fun together this weekend. Hanging out at the bar, the bookstore, the drive… I mean, until it got all apocalyptic out there.” I huff a laugh as he grins.
The sight makes his blue eyes twinkle, and for a second I swear it feels like no time has passed at all.
He twists his lips, dropping his gaze to the sliver of space between us before he speaks.
“Isn’t that enough for you? It’s enough for me.”
“Maybe not us . We’re different,” I admit.
“Yeah, I guess so.” He looks back up at me, and I see a flash of something in his gaze. Sadness? Guilt? I can’t be sure.
“But what about everyone else?” I ask.
“What about everyone else?” He shifts his weight, likely trying to get comfortable on this lumpy bed, but the motion pushes him closer to me, invading the last sliver of open space. His knuckles brush the back of my wrist, and my first instinct is to pull away, but…
His skin is warm. Smooth.
Calming. So I let it go.
“How do we know we are all still friends? I mean, yeah, we have the group chat, but it’s not like we talk all the time or anything. Just random birthday and holiday texts, or dumb shit Alex sends once in a while.”
He sighs, chewing on his lip as he thinks over what to say.
“I think it’s different because of that. Because we don’t see each other all the time. It's safe to say we’re still friends because we can pretend we’re still the same. Like a time capsule.”
“But that’s a lie.”
“Life is full of lies.” He looks down between us. I shift my weight, leaning in just a little closer, because he almost looks sad.
“I don’t know. You’re… very different, but a lot the same,” I say.
His deep, sapphire eyes find my gaze, and I am acutely aware of the rise and fall of his chest. The space between us is warm. Like a cozy fire.
“So are you.”
His gaze dips between us, as if he’s nervous. Maybe I should change the subject. Or roll over and try to catch some sleep like I planned. But I can’t move.
All I can do is focus on him. On the way the edges of his wet hair are starting to curl a bit. On his dimples and his faint five o’clock shadow and the shape of his jaw.
His mouth.
His eyes flash back up to meet mine. He licks his lips. A knock on the door makes me nearly jump off the bed, and Trey curses. Another knock sounds, and he clears his throat.
“I’ll get that,” he says, nearly sprinting to the door.
One glance at my phone tells me the food is ten minutes late. I guess we lost track of time.
What exactly were we doing? I know we were talking, but our talk didn’t feel like the other times we’ve talked.
Something felt different, though I can’t put my finger on it.
Trey gives the delivery driver a huge tip.
They laugh about the shelter in place, the guy makes a comment about it being worth it for the tips.
We put the food on the bed, sit cross-legged, and eat. It’s a tight fit and his knees brush against mine, the large box of pizza, fries, and dipping sauces spread out in front of us.
Trey talks a mile a minute, bringing up a ton of memories from college that I forgot about.
Like the bar we went to all the time. The twins. The parties. The basketball coach that got fired because he was caught with one of the students.
“You remember a lot of stupid shit, Trey,” I say with a laugh.
“It’s not stupid if it’s making you smile.” He tosses a fry at me, and I lunge, trying to catch it but miss. It lands on my thigh. I pick it up and toss it back at him. He just laughs.
We devour the food, then lie in bed unable to move from being so stuffed.
“What the hell are we watching?” I ask.
“Dude Where’s My Car. I can’t believe you haven’t seen it.”
“I don’t have time for movies.”
“Don’t have time for much, do you?” he asks.
“No, not really. Work takes up a lot of my time.”
He eases into the pillows, his movement making his head fall onto my pillow. Though he doesn’t look at me, just closes his eyes and lets out a heavy breath.
“I know the feeling.”
I’m tempted to shift him off my pillow. This bed isn’t that big and I barely have enough space as is, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
Not when I see the tension loosen in his shoulders as he lets out that sigh.
He opens his eyes, looking up at me, and I am frozen.
A statue, my entire body stiff as a board.
“What?” I ask, my voice darker, lower than it should be.
“You know… we really should see each other more. Maybe just talk more.”
I wrinkle my eyebrows. “Talk? About—”
Trey shrugs. “Anything. Stupid shit. You can tell me anything, you know.”
I consider his words. Part of me wants to believe he’s right. The part of me that wants to tell him the truth, anyway. But I don’t think he means it the way I want him to.
He shifts, his body brushing mine as he slips into my space a little more. Any further, and he’s going to push me off this bed all together. But I don’t shove him or push him back.
“I mean, texting me isn’t so bad, is it?”
I laugh again. “No, it’s not bad. I think that would be a good idea.
” The rain echoes outside, and the light of the room is low, casting shadows across his face, making his dimples stand out more.
Could I tell him my secrets? Would he really want to hear them?
His eyebrows furrow and a look of concern graces his face. “What?”
I’m not sure I can tell him about my diagnosis, or about how the last few years have been a struggle, or that the closest thing I have to a friend is my therapist, and that in itself is concerning. So I just say, “I don’t really have… friends.”
“Yeah, I he—I mean, yeah. With work, I’m sure it’s tough.
” His gaze flashes to my mouth, or at least I think it does.
I can’t be sure because it happens so fast. Maybe he was just looking between us.
Or maybe there was something in his eye; I don’t know.
But whatever it is, I brush it off because there’s a strange sense of déjà vu.
“But we can be long-distance buddies. Totally.”
“I’d like that.” It’s not a lie; the idea of talking to Trey, even if it’s just over text… is nice.
“Unless, of course, you decide you don’t like me anymore,” he says sarcastically.
That earns him a shove, and he laughs.
“Fuck you, Kelly.”
He shoves me back, but it’s light, dare I say, playful.
I give him another shove, scooting so I can get as much of myself on this bed as possible, but all that does is position me closer to him.
My shoulders loosen as my eyes get heavy, and I yawn.
“Yeah, probably a good idea,” he says, echoing a yawn of his own in return.