25. Chapter Twenty-Five #2
I slide my phone in my pocket and head for my bedroom, setting my phone on the nightstand when I get in so I can undress myself and crawl into bed. I’m just closing my eyes when I hear the chime of a text. I open my eyes wide, grabbing for the phone and my heart stops when I see the text.
Huds
I don’t hate you.
I debate answering him, because clearly I’m not in the best shape to be discussing my feelings or my stupidity. But of course, I can’t help myself. Knowing he’s awake, knowing he’s on the other end of the phone…
I breathe a sigh of relief at his text. And then another comes in.
Huds
But I get if you don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t touch you in public or call you baby or take you out on romantic dates and who can’t handle the store.
Me
I still want to be with you. I’m just being honest with you because I don’t want you to think I don’t want you. I want you so fucking bad, Hudson, I don’t think you know.
Things take time, and that’s all I’m asking for, Huds. Time. We don’t have to rush.
Huds
I just need you to know that none of those things have to do with you being a guy. They’re just me things. The way it all happened… it sucked. It made me feel like shit, but I guess maybe we need to talk about it more.
Me
Can I make it up to you?
I wait for him to answer, and when he doesn’t, I assume he’s gone to sleep, so that’s what I try to do.
When I wake up, it’s nearly 8:00 am, and though I slept like a damn log, I still feel tired.
I have a mild headache, though I’m not sure if it’s because I overslept or because of the drinking.
Maybe both. I make my way to the shower and take my time, soaking up the hot water.
It helps soothe my muscles. I check my phone, but there are no texts from Hudson.
Then again, I’m sure he’s at work right now, and though I know he has no problem texting me from work, I figure it’s best to leave him be for now.
I still feel like shit, more so because reading back my drunk, desperate texts makes me feel like more of an idiot, but I know there’s no point in apologizing now.
What’s said is said, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel some sort of relief having said what I did.
Besides, Hudson and I have known each other for a long time, so the word vomit is nothing new to him, it’s just new that it’s about him.
I spend the day trying to keep busy around the house.
I’d ordered a bunch of stuff for Hudson to the house, though we didn’t discuss getting each other gifts or anything, I didn’t want to show up to his parents’ place on Christmas without something for them, and of course, him, so I check my app to make sure they’re arriving on time, and sure enough they are out for delivery.
Hopefully, I won’t have to return any of this stuff.
I try not to think about that, though. I try to remain positive that Hudson will call me or text me, or something…
It’s hard to resist the urge to text or call him, but I manage to keep myself busy so I can give him the space he needs. The space I should have given him last night, like he asked.
I do a load of laundry. I watch Netflix, make lunch, and put my at-home gym to the test. I lose myself in my run, barely noticing it’s been an hour and a half until I hear the doorbell ring. Must be the packages I ordered.
I stop the treadmill, catching my breath. I reach for a towel to pat my face dry and head to the door. The doorbell rings again.
“Coming, coming,” I say, and I throw open the door, my breath stilling as I lay eyes on Hudson—who looks dressier than usual in a pair of khakis and a dark blue button-down shirt beneath his large coat.
But it’s not him that my gaze falls on, but rather what he’s holding.
A bouquet of a dozen red roses and a small bag.
“Hudson—” I blink, unsure if I’ve hit some delirious level of runner’s high.
“Can I, uh… come in?” he asks, twisting his lips. He looks nervous, slightly uncomfortable, and the chill from the air bites at my sweat-slicked chest.
“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat. “Of course, come in.”
He doesn’t look at me as he comes inside. I shut the door and turn to see him standing in my living room, coat still on, his amber gaze wide like a deer in the headlights. I hold it for a moment before I move toward him.
“Are you—”
“These are for you,” he says solidly, shoving the flowers at me, but holding on to the bag. The plastic slides against my chest and I grab them. I raise an eyebrow.
“You brought me… flowers?” I ask in confusion.
He shakes out of his coat and drops it over the side of the chair so I can see him fully dressed. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, making his thick forearms and fair complexion stand out. Some brownish blonde hair falls in front of his eyes and he awkwardly pushes it away.
“Yes,” he says. “To… apologize.”
“Apologize? To me? Why? You didn’t do anything wrong,” I say, leaning down to sniff the roses. They smell good, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like them.
I mean, no one but my mother has ever bought me flowers, and the last time she did that was when I graduated college.
“Actually, I did,” he says carefully.
“I, uh… I’m going to put these in a glass,” I say, clearing my throat as I walk past him to the kitchen.
“No!” he calls out, causing me to whip around to look at him. “Sorry, I, uh… got you a vase.”
“You got me a… vase?”
“Yes, I assumed you didn’t have one, so I bought one.”
He shoves the bag at me.
I stare at it before taking it and smiling.
I fill it with water and add the flowers to it. I don’t think twice as I head over to him and reach one hand out and rest it on his shoulder, noting the way he relaxes when I do so.
“Thank you for the flowers, and for being thoughtful.”
He runs a hand over his face and grunts in frustration.
“Flowers need a vase,” he says, but the way he says it, I have the feeling he’s not actually talking about the flowers.
My lips turn up into a smirk as I take in the sight of him like this. Slightly flustered. It’s cute.
He’s too fucking cute right now, and I can’t help the smile forming on my face.
“It doesn’t matter what you put them in, you know. Doesn’t change the fact that they’re still…” He looks up at me.
“Perfect,” I say, my voice full of awe; and I know it isn’t entirely from the flowers or the vase. Hudson steps into my space. His hand settles on my hip and I feel his hesitation. I move closer and settle my free hand on his hip and squeeze him.
“They are perfect, just the way they are,” I tell him, needing him to understand.
“I’m sorry.”
“Oh, Hudson…” I wrap my arms around him and pull him close. He startles for a moment, but then I feel his arms wrap around my sweaty midsection and I relax. “You don’t need to be sorry,” I tell him.
“I don’t—” I break away and look down at his watery eyes. “I’m a shitty boyfriend.”
“No,” I tell him, grabbing his neck with one hand. He tries to look away, but I won’t let him. “ I’m a shitty boyfriend.”
Hudson smirks, a faint laugh escaping his throat as his grip on my hip tightens and he pulls me closer without hesitation.
“Guess we have that in common,” he says, his voice tinged with humor.
“Guess so,” I say as he leans up, his lips inches from mine.
“Can we start over?” he asks carefully.
“Start over?”
My hands rove gently over his hips, settling against his back.
Hudson nods and then he lets out a breath.
“I would like to take you out on a date. Tonight.”
The smile that forms on my face is genuine.
“Tonight, huh? Hmmm, let me check my schedule,” I tease him as I lean down and kiss the spot beneath his ear. He shivers in my grasp and I chuckle.
“Let’s see… I may… have some availability in about an hour.”
“An hour?” He balks. “What the hell are you doing for the next hour?”
My lips caress his neck to his jaw, and his body loosens in my grasp. He lets out a soft moan as I find his lips and kiss him.
“Making up with my boyfriend,” I say, and this time, my voice is not a whisper. It’s clear as day, and I feel a sense of accomplishment that my voice didn’t shake.
I said it. Out loud.
And it wasn’t as terrifying as I thought it would be because he’s here.
“Oh,” he says, his voice lowering just a fraction. He leans up and kisses me, slow and sweet.
My mouth opens without hesitation as he says, “Good thing I made reservations for an hour and a half from now, then.”
“You made reservations?” I ask, the surprise in my voice evident.
Hudson nods, his breath warm on my skin.
“Uh huh. I hear that’s what romantic boyfriends do. Well read —I didn’t hear it. I read it.”
When I look down at him, I can’t help but grin, my heart beating a million miles a minute.
“So,” he says, carefully pushing me away with a warm palm against my sweaty chest. “How exactly do you plan on making up with your boyfriend?”
“Well, first…” I lick my lips. “I’m going to show him how sorry I am,” I say, my voice dropping low. I push him against the back of the counter and he lets out a grunt. One hand travels down his chest until I find his belt. I single-handedly unlatch it.
“Is that so?” he asks, his voice dark and raspy.
I kiss him as I fumble with his zipper. I take his bottom lip between my teeth and nip him until he lets out a grunt.
“Mhmm.”
I slide down his front until I am on my knees, looking up at him. Hudson looks down at me with blown pupils and kiss-swollen lips, all awkwardness gone.
“Then when I’m done telling him how sorry I am with my tongue, I’m going to shower… and get ready for this amazing date we’re going on.”
I reach for his cock through his briefs, my gaze holding his with equal ferocity.
“Is this okay?” I ask carefully.
Hudson nods.
“Yes.” He reaches his hand out and runs his fingers through my hair softly. Then pushes my head toward his cock. The push isn’t harsh or hard, but it’s clear what he wants, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want it to.
“If it’s what you want,” he says, his voice smooth, sweet.