21. Chapter Twenty-One #2
I half expect him to push me away, but he doesn’t. His body shakes under my touch, and I squeeze his hip.
He doesn’t look at me.
“It doesn’t change anything,” he says, the pain evident in his voice. “I’m still me. I’m still the same person.”
I turn his face toward me.
His amber eyes find me with a look of guilt and remorse. I hate it. I hate seeing him like this.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, tears trailing down his cheeks.
“Like what?” I ask, my voice soft. Steady.
“Like you don’t know how to act around me. Like you feel sorry for me.”
“No…” I slide my hand around his neck. My fingers find the edges of his hair, and I look into his warm brown eyes. His golden-brown hair, which is slightly mussed from his run in here. At his perfectly-shaped mouth and the way it’s parted just slightly as he sucks in deep breaths.
I don’t see it.
I don’t see what he thinks I see.
All I see is Hudson, my best friend, who I can laugh with. The man I can’t stop thinking about when he’s not around. The person whose voice I look forward to hearing every day. The person I want to kiss right now—right this very second.
Hudson closes his eyes, turning from me, and I don’t think twice about turning his face toward mine and crushing my lips against his.
Hudson startles, pressing his palms on my chest, but he doesn’t push me. His fingers grasp onto my shirt until they become fists, and his tension can be felt like it’s an extension of myself.
I kiss him softly, needing him to understand what I can’t seem to find the words to say.
When Hudson breaks away, the words fall out of my mouth without warning.
“I think I like you,” I say.
Hudson laughs, but it’s strained, sarcastic, and somewhat sad.
“You think,” he says. “You don’t know if you like me anymore?” The anger and disappointment in his voice is irrefutable. “Don’t know if you want to be friends with me anymore?”
That’s not what I meant. Fuck . That came out wrong.
“No, that’s—” I close my eyes, trying to find the words, but my brain is scrambled and nothing is making sense.
I know he’s referencing our conversation from New York, but I don’t think he understands.
How do I make him understand? How do I explain what I barely understand myself?
A lump forms in my throat as his eyes stare up at me like he’s worried I’m going to tell him I hate him or that we can’t be friends anymore.
The truth hits me square in the chest, beneath where his hands are. Right in my fucking heart.
He’s right. I don’t want to be friends.
Not anymore.
“What I mean is…” I close my eyes as the truth forces its way out of my throat. “I think I like you.” I let out a heavy breath.
Hudson’s fists flex against my chest, and for a moment all that can be heard is our heavy breaths and my rapid heartbeat.
I feel the ache in his body as his shoulders tense, as his fists twist in my shirt.
“Oh.” He opens his fist, and I look down at him.
“As… more.” My voice is barely a whisper, the words heavy in the air between us.
I don’t know how long we stand there, his hands on my chest, my hands on his hips.
Can he feel how fast my heart is beating? Does he understand that it’s because of him ?
Hudson swallows, his fingers flexing as he opens his fists, his palms sliding down my chest slowly.
I pull him closer until he’s pressed against me.
Until my hands on his hips find their home around his back.
I nod, leaning down just an inch. I find his gaze; his amber eyes searching mine for something I can’t quite explain.
He stares at me, his hands slipping down to my hips.
He doesn’t say anything. Just looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time.
Like I’m someone he knows, but doesn’t.
One hand travels up my chest until he finds my neck. His fingers curl around the back, his thumb resting right over my throbbing vein.
“More?” he asks, his voice low. “Than a… friend?”
“Yes.” The word comes without hesitation. The truth hangs in the air between us, settling in me for the first time.
There are a lot of things I don’t know. I don’t know how to be with a guy, for one. In so many ways, I’m out of my league here.
“I like you, ” I say. “You’re smart and funny, and hot as hell, and…
” The words rush out of me like a flood.
“I think I’ve liked you for a while, actually.
So if I’ve been looking at you any type of way, that’s why.
It has nothing to do with…” I swallow. “The autism.” I let out a sigh.
“I don’t know how to do this with a guy, and it’s a little scary, but I—”
The words die in my throat as Hudson kisses me so hard it rocks my entire body, and I stumble backward and nearly fall over, but I right myself.
I don’t let go. I can’t.
I wrap my arms tighter around him. His cologne fills my lungs, and his warmth blankets me as I open my mouth for him without hesitation.
When he breaks away, I look down at him, and the words take on a life of their own.
“I think I want to like… be with you.”
Hudson’s grip on my neck tightens, and I can’t help myself. I lean down and kiss him softly. Needing him to understand what I can barely articulate.
“I don’t know how to do this either,” he says carefully. His head falls against my chest as he sucks in a deep breath. I keep my arms tight around him, relishing in the feel of his body against mine. His warmth, his scent. Him.
It feels good, and I don’t want to let go, so I don’t.
“But I want to,” he adds.
Relief floods me as silence builds between us, but it isn’t uncomfortable.
We just stand there, in his bedroom, arms wrapped around each other, and I think about how good it feels. To be here. With him. To feel him like this—in my arms.
“Maybe we just do what feels good.” I rub my hands up and down his back as his fingers toy with the hair at the nape of my neck. “Whatever works for us, and that’s it. If something doesn’t feel right, we don’t do it.”
Hudson lets out a shaky breath.
“Okay,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.
“Okay?” I ask, my entire body thrumming from his grip, his touch, his breath on my skin.
He nods.
He’s agreeing… to do this with me.