18. Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
Hudson
Football season is in full swing and Halloween is right around the corner—not that it means much to me other than having to go to my mother’s house to help her pass out candy.
When people think about the holidays, they usually start at Thanksgiving.
Halloween doesn’t really fit into the cheery holidays, considering it’s the opposite, but for my mother, the holidays start at Halloween, which means I am forced to spend time with her and my step-family at least one day a month for the next three months.
I swear she just uses this as an excuse to make me visit her, but whatever. I fight her the rest of the year. The least I can do is this… I guess.
“Mail!” Jason announces, coming in my office and handing me a few large inter-office envelopes. I double check that they’re addressed to me, because I’ve opened others many times before.
One is a certificate for a training I did because apparently we still need hard copies of these things even though everything is digital now.
The other is a letter envelope with two tickets to a Wolves game. I snap a photo of them to send to my father. It’s his Christmas present this year. I swore I would take him to a game last year, but we didn’t get to it.
Well, he did, but I didn’t go with him. This time I am.
Do I want to sit through a game? No, not really, especially since I’ll have to look at it all over again when I’m analyzing the data.
I do that a lot—watch parts of the games to understand why things happen to help me figure out the probability of them happening again.
It’s not always just numbers; it’s what’s going on too.
Not just weather, but other players. Distractions.
It could be anything. I like to take note of all these things, and I swear it’s my over-dedication that makes me good at my job…
which is the reason I will one day have the VP position.
My phone alerts me of a text. It’s from Trey, so I check it.
Trey
Call me when you get out of work. I have news.
Me
Okay.
We talk every day, just little texts here and there, like a continuous conversation. I’ve never had a texting relationship like this with anyone. Usually, texts are for a quick thing you need to say that isn’t worth a call.
Not with Trey and me. We go back and forth constantly. It’s not that I have an issue with it, it’s just new.
Which fits for Trey and me, I guess, because there are a lot of new things when it comes to him.
Like my sexual attraction, and the fact my dick gets all kinds of hard now when I think about him and what we’ve done.
I’m not complaining. It’s nice to have something to do other than work, because yes, I’m that boring.
Jerking off is my hobby now. I even almost sent him a picture once, but I work with computers and know that stuff is never private, so I didn’t risk it.
All I need is for that to get out and my work to find out.
I get through the rest of the day fairly smoothly, and when I’m in my car, I call Trey on the Bluetooth.
“How was work?” he asks.
“Same as always,” I say as I back out of my spot and drive toward the exit.
“You know, I don’t know how you sit at a desk all day. I’d get really bored.”
“The numbers are actually very fascinating when you dig into them.”
He grunts. “Numbers are numbers. They never change.”
“Exactly the point.” I roll my eyes and turn out of the lot. “What is your news?”
He’s learned that I don’t like surprises… so, now when he has something important to tell me, it’s news.
“I’m not sure I should tell you this while you’re driving.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know if you’re going to be happy or upset.”
“There are many things between happy and so blindingly angry that I crash my car,” I say sarcastically.
He huffs a laugh. “Good point. Well, Man—uh, I mean, Amanda, invited me there for Thanksgiving.”
I can’t help but tense at the way he wants to call her Mandy all the time, but stops himself .
It’s so personal. The only person who calls her Mandy is my stepdad.
Trey told me a couple months ago that they work together.
I knew she worked in the same field, but didn’t think anything of it, since she works for a different company than he does.
But I guess being in the same field means they see each other frequently.
I’m still not sure how I feel about that.
He seemed shocked that I wasn’t aware of this, but why would I be?
I’m not close with her, and he does know that.
In fact, she’s more friendly with him than she is with me.
“Here, as in—”
“Your mom’s house.”
“Wow,” is what comes out of my mouth. “That’s…”
“If you don’t want me to go, I won’t.” It’s the way he says the words. So matter of fact. Like all it would take is just one word and he wouldn’t even question me. He’d just not show up.
Sometimes that’s a relief, but other times, it makes me feel conflicted.
So, I don’t say anything right away, needing to think about this.
The idea of him being there doesn’t bother me, exactly, but it does feel weird that Amanda is inviting him to something like this, being as it’s usually just the four of us.
Though, the more I think about it, I guess it’s not much weirder than I normally feel about going to my mother’s house.
And maybe there’s a part of me that feels a little bit relieved at the idea, too.
It’s been months since I’ve seen him, and though we talk every day, and sometimes even Facetime, it’s not the same.
“Yeah, uh… maybe it’ll be nice having you there.”
“Maybe?” I hear the smile in his voice.
“Come on. You know how my relationship is with my family, Trey.”
His voice softens. “Yeah, I know. I just, uh… well, it would be nice to see you.”
He tries to sound nonchalant about it, but he doesn’t quite succeed.
And I’m not mad about it. My cheeks heat, and I’m glad I’m not on Facetime right now, because there would be no hiding that and I’d have to find something to blame it on.
I let out a sigh, knowing there’s no way I can refute him. Not when I hear the thinly veiled excitement in his voice.
“It will be nice to see you too, Trey.”
He lets out a sound of contentment and I can imagine him smirking.
“So… you want me to come, then?” he asks, and the tone is equal parts humorous and sexy.
But it’s not his tone that resonates with me. It’s how direct he is.
Trey doesn’t beat around the bush. He’s direct and deliberate with what he says, and that makes our discussions a lot easier, less stressful. I don’t have to analyze what he says the way I usually have to with other people.
“Just don’t have any expectations for my mood,” I warn him.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m my worst self when I have to be with them. So don’t take it personally if I’m… grumpy.”
It’s not untrue. I am different around my family. But I’m also different around Trey. What will happen and who will I be when they are both in the same room? Almost as if he can sense my anxiety, he speaks.
“Pretty sure I can handle anything after the office fiasco over the summer.”
I laugh. That’s what we call it now, and thankfully…
we laugh about it often. I can’t explain why I was so angry with him for showing up, other than it being a shock, and I hate that, but I can’t say I regret it either.
What happened at the hotel after was hot as hell, and I think about it all the time.
Though, we don’t talk about that either. Just like last time, it’s as if it didn’t happen. Another secret to add to the mountain.
“Fair point. Why aren’t you going to be with your mother?”
He groans. “She’s going to visit my aunt in Maine for the winter. She’s on this new kick where she loves the snow and wants to ski.”
“Your mother? The same one you told me was wearing a sweater in the dead of summer in Florida?”
“One and the same.”
“Hey, well… everyone changes, right?” I say.
“Anyway…” Trey breathes. “Since I will not be with her for any of the holidays this year, and Mandy overheard our conversation, I’ve been officially invited to partake in the holiday merriment at your mother’s.”
“Cool.” I try my best to sound indifferent, though the more I think about it, the more excited I feel. I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend over for the holidays, even when my parents were together.
“At least it’s Thanksgiving and not Christmas. By then, I’m fed up and hardly say a word.”
There’s a pause, and I think the call might’ve dropped, but he breaks the silence with a soft, even tone.
“Can I… uh, ask why you hate going there so much?”
“It’s… complicated,” is what I say.
It’s the perfect opportunity to tell him about my diagnosis and how my mother babies the hell out of me, but of course I go silent instead.
I’ve considered telling him plenty of times, even though I swore I would never tell anyone.
But he’s Trey. My best friend. My very attractive best friend, who has a really nice dick.
Yeah, he doesn’t need to know about my neurological makeup.