Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
ELLIE
One Month Later
I exhale a long sigh of relief as I unlock the front door and slip inside the cool, quiet house.
My Thursday evening study session was cancelled at the last minute, and after a half hour of attempting to focus in the library by myself, I decided my Advanced Anatomy homework would have to wait until tomorrow.
When I’m studying in a group setting—learning through conversation and visual aid—I have no problem focusing on the task at hand, but when I’m doing so alone, my ADHD causes me to get distracted by my environment far too easily.
Even with noise-cancelling headphones and my deep focus playlist, it’s difficult for me to pay attention.
If even one thing is out of place, or if there are people moving in my periphery or a flickering light, I can’t concentrate. When I’m at home, I can control the lighting, the noise, the organization of the space around me, so it’s where I get the most done.
Though, my living situation serves its own kind of distraction.
The first time I laid eyes on Hudson Grant, I thought he was a Westgate hockey player.
He was thirty-five then—young for the head coach of a Division I university athletic team.
With his tall, broad, toned body, his electric blue eyes, and full head of dark hair—the kind that looks soft and thick, exactly what you want to run your fingers through—he perfectly resembled one of the athletes.
He was also clean-shaven at the time, so it wasn’t difficult to mistake him for a student himself.
Even after discovering he was sixteen years my senior and a faculty member, it was difficult to let the budding crush fade.
I loved to watch him on the ice, loved watching how steady and commanding he was with his players. He’s a force.
Then, he married my mother.
I wish I could understand why, what he saw in her.
I figured my mother was attracted to him because he was good looking, of course, but also because he was younger than her.
I don’t like to think too deeply about my mother’s motives, but I’d assume she goes after younger men because it makes her feel better about herself.
I’d assume she got bored with marriage, and the validation from Hudson’s admiration was no longer enough, so she set her sights on my boyfriend instead.
After she married Hudson, I mostly stayed away.
I moved into the dorms at the start of my freshman year—housing expenses paid for, since what my mother had saved to cover my tuition over the course of my childhood was being supplemented because of Hudson’s faculty status.
I could only live in the dorms for the first two years of undergrad, and then my plan was to move in with my mother and Hudson so I could continue having my tuition covered—a requirement of the policy was to either reside on campus or in residence with a faculty member.
I was sure my crush on Hudson would diminish by the time I was supposed to move in with them, especially as I began dating Bodhi.
The small amount of time I did spend around Hudson still erupted butterflies in my stomach, sparks of heat in my veins, and I felt guilty about it.
I had a boyfriend, and he was technically my step-father.
So, I kept as much distance as I could manage.
Then, I caught my mother fucking Bodhi.
I haven’t spoken to my mom in nearly a year, not since I walked in on the two of them together after stopping at my mom’s house to grab something.
I can’t even remember what it was. After I saw them, his hips between hers, my mother’s legs in the air, hearing the same heavy breath Bodhi would let out when he was inside me—I shudder at the memory—I took off, body coiling with rage, coated in disgust. I ran straight for Hudson.
I immediately told him everything, and when I broke down in his arms, I think it was the first time we touched.
I remember the way he smelled, how steady he felt when he wrapped me in a hug, apologized, and said it would be okay.
He’d just found out his wife was cheating on him with one of his players, and my comfort was his top priority.
My mother didn’t try as hard as I thought she would to apologize or justify the situation. She called a few times, and after ignoring her completely for about a week, I sent her a text telling her not to contact me again. She told me to take the time I needed, and I’ve not heard from her since.
Bodhi, on the other hand…he still hasn’t given up.
Even after transferring to Bayside, our conference rival an hour’s drive north of Westgate, he calls or texts me on a regular basis—attempting to apologize and begging me to meet with him. I’ve never responded to him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he and my mother are still seeing each other.
I wonder how they’d react if they found out about me moving in with Hudson—I’m certain my mother would be furious, but it’s her fault I’m in this situation.
She left me no other choice. With her divorce from Hudson, my tuition was no longer going to be covered, and after I told her to stop speaking to me, the monthly allowances she wired into my bank account stopped coming too.
There would be no way for me to pay for housing, tuition, and continue to play hockey.
I think my mom knows this, and I think she assumed I’d come running back when I needed the money.
Luckily, Natalia stepped in and spoke to Hudson for me.
She’s the best friend I’ve ever had—I think she might be my soulmate.
I don’t know what I’d do without Natalia.
She’s fierce and protective and unapologetically authentic.
She’s the only person in the world who has ever cracked my shell, and sometimes, I think, because of her, I’m able to discover who I truly am.
Sometimes, I get irrationally jealous of her friendships with the other girls on the figure skating team—her roommates.
I know a couple of them have been more than just friends, though her relationships have never gone beyond a casual hook-up.
I don’t know why the thought of her dating another girl sometimes makes me bristle—I guess it’s because I don’t want to lose her as a best friend.
I don’t want to share her with anyone, even if that thought kind of makes me sound insane.
I guess after losing everyone else in my life, I’m possessive over her—I hate the thought of her dating a man, too.
But she’s beautiful and outgoing and wild.
Everyone who meets her falls in love with her, and I can’t blame them.
Luckily for me, she doesn’t like her connections to go beyond casual flings, because she says spending too much time around the same person gets tedious and annoying for her—I’m the one exception.
If I have nothing else, I know I’ll always have Nat.
And Hudson…he’s kind and selfless. He’s been accommodating and supportive while I’ve been living here—always keeping the fridge stocked, switching out my laundry when I’m in class, never complaining about the frequency with which Nat sleeps over.
That diminished attraction I felt for him, those budding butterflies, seem to flap louder and harder the longer I spend beneath his roof, and the way he looks at me sometimes has me wondering if he feels the same way, though I’m sure I’m imagining it.
I’m no more than his ex-wife’s daughter who he tolerates out of pity—though I can allow myself to daydream about something more.
The way he looks when he steps out of a shower, nothing but a towel slung around his hips and beads of water cascading down his bare chest. The firm muscles in his back and the way they move when he lifts something.
The bob in his throat when his eyes linger on my favorite pair of silk pajama shorts as they ride up my thighs.
Sometimes, I let myself imagine what his skin tastes like, how that force and strength would feel when entirely focused on me, the calloused caress of his rough hands, what kind of words may flow from the deep, gruff voice of his.
But they’re merely fantasies, nothing I’d ever act upon.
I slip my shoes off in the entryway before trudging up the stairs to get started on my homework—or read the newest release from my favorite romance author. I’m undecided.
I startle when I reach the second floor landing—a soft moan clatters off the walls. It’s dark, the only light a faint illumination from Hudson’s door, which is slightly ajar.
Fuck.
I didn’t think about the fact that he expected me to be out tonight so he may have someone over. I bite down the pang of jealousy that squeezes my stomach, dashing toward my own bedroom door, but I halt, palm on the handle, when I hear, “Yeah, just like that,” in an all-too-familiar voice.
My chest seizes as every conceivable emotion rushes over me at once.
Shock. Betrayal. Envy… Curiosity?
There is no doubt in my mind that voice belonged to my best friend, and there are only so many things she can be doing in my step-father’s bedroom that would result in that.
My immediate thought is: why does this keep happening to me?
But a secondary, more primal urge overcomes me, and I physically can’t stop myself from tiptoeing across the landing, concealing my body behind Hudson’s door.
I peek through the sliver of light that shines between it and the wall, offering myself a glimpse of what’s going on inside.
I want to be hurt and angry, but an intense feeling of intrigue settles over my skin. I can’t stop myself from taking in the sight that greets me.
Natalia’s completely naked, propped up in the lounge chair beside Hudson’s bed with her head thrown back, long, dark hair cascading around her shoulders.
Her legs are bent in half and resting atop Hudson’s shoulders, and he kneels on the floor, head buried between her thighs.
He’s shirtless, and those back muscles I love to admire move with a vigor as he appears to be thrusting his fingers in and out of her.
There is a glow of sweat complimenting Nat’s golden skin, and her plush lips are parted in a perfect “O”, her face screwed in pure ecstasy.
Heat erupts at the base of my spine, spreading like wildfire through my blood, and I can’t look away.
I’ve seen Nat naked before, but I’ve never allowed myself to look at her—mostly because I’ve been terrified of feeling exactly the way I do right now: allured and enticed and aflame for my best friend’s raw beauty and flawless body.
A guttural groan leaves Hudson’s mouth, and Nat’s entire body tightens at the sound.
I can only imagine how it must feel vibrating against her center.
The noise was both pleasure and praise, and I'm trembling at the vision of him making those noises about me.
My thighs clamp together, arousal flooding my core.
Later, I might feel rage, but at this moment, all I can muster is lust and envy.
The worst part is, I can’t decide what it is I’m envious of.
There’s the look on Nat’s face as Hudson’s fingers move inside her, as his tongue buries itself between her thighs, what it must feel like to be pleasured by him.
At the same time, my mouth begins to salivate at the thought of what she tastes like, how it must feel for him to have her writhing against his mouth and tugging on his hair, how good it must feel to make Natalia weak like that, to have her praising his movements, to have her moaning his name.
I’ve never felt like this before, and I know it’s wrong, but I can’t stop my eyes from fluttering closed, from imagining what it would feel like to find myself between them, drawing my own rapture from each of theirs, being worshipped by them the way they seem to be worshipping each other.
Its crass and obscene, the way my hand finds itself slipping beneath the waistband of my leggings, and my fingers gently brush over my clit, wet with need and arousal.
I know it’s fucked up to be doing this right now, to be watching them, to be enjoying it, but it’s been so long since anything has made me feel this way.
Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before.
I’ve never experienced a desire so strong and vital. It’s an ache—a physical need.
My eyes grow heavy as I chase ecstasy of my own, but I force them open to watch Natalia’s grip on Hudson’s head grow tighter, her legs tremble uncontrollably, and his movements become chaotic and fierce.
She’s chanting his name, telling him how good it feels, how close she is, and when she finally breaks, he whimpers again, like her climax is the most delectable taste he’s ever experienced.
Watching her cry out for him causes me to careen off the cliff of pleasure right along with her, my own orgasm barreling through me at the sound of their mixed moans and the sight of my step-dad kneeling between my best friend’s legs.
With my eyes screwed shut, I catch my breath as I float back down from the high.
When I open them again, whatever trance had overcome me seems to be broken, and as I watch Hudson crawl his way up Natalia’s body, planting his lips on hers in a slow and intimate kiss, I come to the harsh realization of what I’ve just witnessed and what I’ve just done.
My face flushes with humiliation as I spin, moving as quickly as can be done in silence. I run back down the stairs—I’m always running, it feels—and out the front door before either of them can realize I was home in the first place, unsure of where the fuck to go.
I can only hope they didn’t see or hear me, and regardless, I don’t know how I’ll look either of them in the eye ever again.