15. Chapter Fifteen #2
Yes, I’m here to see Hudson, but I’m not going to waste the opportunity to stop by and network, either, especially with the roster these guys have.
And with the convention tomorrow, if I could somehow persuade someone from that roster to stop by the Nutri-Go table, well…
that’s free press, baby. All we need is someone to snap a photo of them with a Nutri-Go product, and the match is struck.
Which is why after I see Hudson and ask him to hang out, I’m headed straight to HR to drop off some sample products.
“You got this,” I tell myself. “Head in, grab your pass, and casually ask where his office is. It’s not that weird. You network with a lot of people. No one will assume anything.”
At least, that’s what I tell myself. I grab my backpack and head out toward the stadium.
It’s not a game day, so the place isn’t super busy, but there’s still a good bit of staff moving around. I find my way to the ticket windows. The woman behind the counter doesn’t even look up from her phone.
“Good afternoon,” I say in my most polished, chipper voice. She looks up at me like I’ve interrupted her fanfic. I force a smile.
“Trey Kelly, Regional Sales Manager, Nutri-Go,” I say. “Chloe called ahead for me.” My heart beats like a damn drum as she stares at me in silence. “I, uh… need my press pass.”
She blinks, and for a moment, I think I might have to call Chloe, but the woman sighs and dramatically gets up from her rolling chair. She disappears behind the door in the corner and comes back with my pass. I breathe easier.
“Thanks,” I say as she slips it through the vestibule. “Uh, one more thing…”
I swallow, nervously. This is it. Stay cool. It’s just a question. You’ve asked plenty of questions like this before. No biggie.
“Can you tell me where Hudson Daniels’ office is located?”
The woman raises an eyebrow.
“You got an appointment to visit Hudson ?”
I look back and forth, feeling slightly offended by her tone.
“Um… yeah. He’s an… old friend.”
She laughs. It’s not a sarcastic laugh, either. It’s deep like I just told her the sky is purple.
I feel hot all of a sudden, and as I open my mouth to speak, she shakes her head.
“Yeah, whatever. Second floor, make a right at concessions until you see the club entrance. His office is down the hall. You’ll see his name on the door. If you reach HR, you’ve gone too far.”
I tug on the straps of my backpack and give her the fakest smile I can muster.
“Cool. Thanks.” I toss my press pass around my neck and head off for the escalator.
I don’t know what her problem was, but that was fucking rude. Though the folks who work the desk aren’t my concern right now. My first concern is Hudson, and then the HR department.
Priorities, and all.
With every step, my heart feels like it’s going to leap out of my chest.
“Do you have plans? Do you want to go out later? Got any recommendations for a good pizza place?” I mull over the best way to ask him to hang out, because I don’t want it to sound like I’m asking him out out.
But I also don’t want to sound too nonchalant, either.
Fuck, why is this so difficult?
Maybe it’s not too late to turn around and abort this entire mission…
Except then Chloe would have busted her ass for nothing, and I could lose a commission.
Fucking hell.
I shove the nerves aside as best I can as I reach concessions and make a right. The club entrance is huge and can’t be missed, but the hallway next to it is another story. I almost walk past it entirely.
I stop for a moment, my heart in my damn throat.
“Here goes nothing,” I say as I head down the hall. There are rooms on both sides and it branches out into a bigger room with more doors.
I scan the names on the outside. A couple doors are open with guys in suits working their desks, probably browsing through dumb emails.
I note the names on the door. One of them says Karson Thompson with Vice President of Analytics beneath it.
.. I note it’s catty-corner from Hudson’s office.
The sign behind me lists two names for the Human Resources Department. M. Lowry and E. Stanley.
Lucky me. Two birds, one stone.
I pause at Hudson’s closed door, and let out my breath as I knock. Once.
No answer.
I try again. Two knocks.
Maybe he’s out to a late lunch or something.
I figure I’ll try once more, and if he doesn’t answer, I’ll stop by HR and take care of the samples and ask them when he should be back. I have enough swag in my backpack, I can piss around for a bit if I need to wait.
And I will wait, because fuck, if I don’t…
I will regret it. I know I will.
I knock three times, and the door flies open.
“I told you, I—”
His eyes widen like he’s seen a ghost. His shoulders hunch and his jaw tightens and I swear he looks like a statue.
Still, he looks good. His blondish-brown hair is a bit messy, but the navy blue polo he’s wearing showcases his biceps with how tight it is.
My gaze travels over him, taking in the sight.
The dark blue color against his fair skin, the way his khakis tighten at his thighs, and the way his belt is squeezing his thick waist. His cologne hits me hard and I breathe it in without trying, the familiar scent of rainwater invading my damn lungs.
It’s been months, but somehow I swear he’s hotter than I remember.
Fuck.
I feel my dick stiffen, and I clear my throat.
“Hey,” I say with a smirk as my gaze finds his amber eyes.
“Trey?” He blinks, the surprise evident on his face. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I lean my arm against the doorframe to shift into his space. Get another whiff of his cologne. Maybe get a little closer to him, but not so close I’ll have HR up his ass.
“I was in the neighborhood,” I say as someone moves out of the office behind me. He looks at Hudson, then at me. Then looks confused as hell.
I flash my press pass.
“Trey Kelly, Regional Sales, Nutri-Go,” I say firmly.
The guy nods. “You here to see Mick?”
I don’t know who that is, but I assume it’s M. Lowry on the sign behind me.
“Yes.”
The guy shrugs. “He should be back from lunch in five.”
“Great,” I say with another fake smile as he leaves me and Hudson.
“You gonna let me stand out here like a lost puppy, or are you going to invite me in?” I ask with a smirk, figuring it’ll make him laugh, but…
It doesn’t.
He looks like he’s about to scream.
“Or… not.” I stand up straighter. “Hudson, what’s wrong?” I ask, panic striking me hard in the chest.
He doesn’t say anything. He stares at me as his breathing quickens.
“I just thought—” I press into his space a little bit and he lets out a low sound. He holds his hand up, palm against my chest, stopping me from entering.
His touch is hard. I can feel him shaking, like he’s holding back.
“You can’t be here,” he says flatly. “I’m working.”
I blink.
“Oh, did you find five minutes in the day to work, huh?” I tease him, but he doesn’t laugh.
I shove off the weird feeling and cock my head to the side, trying to capture his gaze.
“No,” he says, his tone bitter. Like I did something wrong.
“You always text me and tell me you’re bored at work. I thought maybe… maybe, I… er… we…”
What the fuck? Why can’t I speak like a functional adult right now?
“I’m busy,” Hudson says firmly. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” I say, feeling slightly defensive.
“I don’t care. Whatever it is—no. I need you to leave.” His voice raises an octave. I move just the slightest, closer to his face, trying to get him to listen. To look at me.
“Hudson…”
“I said leave,” he grits out through his teeth.
I purse my lips. “No.”
His eyes widen and he looks like he’s going to cry. But it’s only for a moment. Soon enough, it’s replaced with fury. Anger.
“Leave, Trey,” he bites out.
“Can we just talk?” I ask. “Please…” I try. “It doesn’t have to be here. Maybe we can hang out later, grab something to eat or have a drink and—”
His hand shoves against my chest. He pushes me back with enough force that I stumble into a guy walking behind me and nearly knock him over.
“What the fuck, Hudson?” the guy says, looking between us. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Kelly, you’ll have to excuse Hudson. He doesn’t always watch where the hell he’s going. Right, Hudson?”
I look at Hudson, who looks like he’s about to go nuclear. I swear, if looks could murder, I’d be dead.
I don’t understand—Mandy said this would be better, but this doesn’t feel good.
Not one bit.
I think I fucked up.
“It’s fine,” I say as I take in his watery eyes. His balled fists.
All I want to do is comfort him. Tell him I’m sorry, but I don’t know what to apologize for.
I thought he’d be happy to see me, but he’s not.
“Are you sure?” The guy I can only assume is Mick asks, his voice stern. “Because we don’t tolerate—”
“I said it’s fine,” I say more sternly.
And that’s when I hear a darker, deeper voice.
“Is there a problem here?” I turn to see a large, burly man in a suit looking at me.
“No, Mr. Thompson. Everything’s under control,” Hudson says.
“Doesn’t look like it to me,” the big guy says.
“I just, uh… had some samples to drop off,” I say, trying to hold my resolve, but I know the minute I look in his eyes, I’m fucked. “I got lost.”
“Then drop them off and go,” the big guy says.
I do as he says and pull my backpack off, open it up and pull out an unopened box and take five steps forward to hand it to the guy.
I do my best to channel my usual persona.
Fortunately, it’s like flipping a switch and I straighten my stance, smile and hand over the box.
“Trey Kelly, Regional Sales, Nutri-Go. I’m vending tomorrow at Stars and Stripes , and thought I’d stop by to introduce myself and share some Nutri-Goodness.”
Mr. Thompson narrows his gaze at me as he takes the box.
“Those are our bestsellers, but if you’d like to stop by the convention tomorrow, I’ll have some samples of our new line that hasn’t been announced yet.” I give him the fakest smile I can muster, before I turn to look at Hudson, noticing his tight jaw.
“Thanks,” I say, and with that, I tighten my jaw, straighten my shoulders, and walk out feeling like the worst friend on the fucking planet.
When I get to my car, I hit the steering wheel and scream in frustration. The horn blares as I curse. I debate texting Hudson. Telling him I’m sorry. Asking him if he’s okay.
But I get the feeling that doing that will only make things worse.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t supposed to go like this…
I turn the key and start the car, just as my phone dings. My room is ready. My heart races a mile a minute.
I text him anyway, even though it probably won’t do any good.
Me
Sorry
He doesn’t text me back. The message sits there, idle. Delivered but not read.
My fingers hover, itching to say more.
I should have called. Are you okay? How can I help?
All of those would be good things to say to your friend when they’re upset, but it’s not what I really want to say.
I missed you and just wanted to see you. I wanted to surprise you. I wanted to spend what little time I have here with you. My best friend.
But instead, I say nothing. And as I drive back to Minneapolis, my phone never makes a sound, and I think I might’ve just fucked up everything for good. The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt Hudson, and somehow I think that’s exactly what I did.