18. Faith
Sunday was basically a surreal daze.
I woke up to purring and a warm presence tucked up against my side.
Afraid to disturb my new pet in fear that it might claw my face off if I upset it, I opened my eyes and made sure not to move a muscle as I glanced down at the ball of black fur cuddled on my blankets.
I knew I should be pissed. Cat hair was going to be on my bed, my clothes, my furniture, everywhere. I’d have to clean a freaking litter box now. Daily. And feed the damn thing. And probably get it some toys so it didn’t claw my shit to shreds. I didn’t want this kind of responsibility thrust on me like this.
And yet, deep inside, I knew I really wasn’t moving because I didn’t want it to get up and leave. I liked waking up to someone nearby, keeping me company.
My fingers tingled with the urge to reach down and just sink my fingers in fur.
Fuck it. Wasn’t like the mangy feline was actually going to stay. As soon as I talked to Hudson again, I was going to make him take it away. Why did I have to try to make it like me?
Except I still held my breath, hoping it didn’t leave, as my hand hesitantly lifted before hovering over the cat. After a quick glance to my left where the napkin flower Hudson had made me was sitting on my nightstand, I lowered my fingers. The warm body under my touch jumped in surprise before it lifted its head. Its purr intensified as I stroked it, and it laid its face back down, letting me gently stroke my way along its back.
And I pretty much fell in love on the spot.
A trembling smile lit my lips. “Hey…there,” I greeted. “I don’t know if you actually want to stay with me, but if you do…” I bit my lip, feeling like a moron for the lame invitation. “I guess I won’t kick you out.”
The cat didn’t get up and run off, so we stayed that way for nearly an hour, just chilling together, enjoying a lazy Sunday morning, where neither of us had to be anywhere specific for the entire day.
By the time I finally got out of bed, I’d nearly forgotten I hadn’t found everything Hudson had done to my apartment until I opened my underwear drawer, and…
“What the hell?”
It took me a moment to realize what had happened, but I knew immediately something was off. After registering the shock of wrongness, I finally spotted the Post-it note.
And could I just pause to say that I still wasn’t sure what to think about Hudson using my own vice of sticky note writing against me. Was he making fun of my odd little habit of leaving them everywhere to remind myself of things? Or did he think it’d be cute to carry on the tradition? I wasn’t really sure.
But going through my underwear drawer and just…changing my order. That had to be crossing some kind of line. Right?
I snagged the note and read it greedily.
“I’m sorry, Stalker. I really am. But I can’t let you be one of those people who organizes her panties in rainbow order. I just can’t. One day, you’ll thank me for this. So I’m just going to answer that future gratitude right now with YOU’RE WELCOME.”
I scowled at the same time that a strange warmth spread through my chest.
He’d been neat—I couldn’t fault him for making any kind of mess—but there was no rhyme or reason to the color scheme he’d established, and a part of me wanted to put it all back the way I’d had it, while another part…
I mean, holy shit. Hudson Ivey had put his hands on my panties. The guy I’d been daydreaming about for the past two years had shown interest in my underwear drawer.
The invasion was wrong. Totally wrong. But still…
Gah.
When I saw the corner of yet another sticky note poking up from between a pair of white silk and lace, I yanked it up so fast I’m surprised I didn’t tear the paper in half. And then I read what else he had to say.
“These are by far my favorite.”
My hormones clenched deep in my stomach. Tingles spread up my thighs like a rash and my breasts went heavy and tight.
He really, really shouldn’t have told me that. I slid his favorite pair free to check them out. They weren’t all that scandalous, not a skimpy thong, or crotchless, or anything like that, just a little high cut in the thigh and made of pristine white cloth with a lacy overlay.
They were classy and timeless, and Hudson’s preference for them made me like him all that much more.
I carried them into the bathroom with me as I prepared to shower, and after I was cleaned and dry, that was the pair I slid on.
Back in the front room, Hudson’s changes made sure I wasn’t going to forget about him any time soon. And in the kitchen, I had the Jennifer Anniston salad he’d made for breakfast, eating it from one of the meal-planning containers he’d stored it in.
I’d been planning to head to the library for last-minute study time before my finals started, but the heavy presence of Hudson looming in my apartment coaxed me to stay and just study here. Besides, when the cat stopped exploring and curled up on my lap, it felt pretty damn awesome to be exactly where I was.
We had bonded, and I’d even given her a new name by the time eight o’clock that evening rolled around. I was still camped out on the couch with my stockinged feet up on the coffee table, watching a little Love Actually to get into the holiday spirit, and polishing off a container full of broccoli and cheddar quiches when my phone buzzed with an incoming text.
I hadn’t yet changed a single thing that Hudson had altered because… Well, I didn’t want to dive into why quite yet, but I think it might also have something to do with the reason why I hadn’t felt lonely since I’d woken that morning. Which was strange since I hadn’t talked to a single human being all day.
But whatever.
I leaned over to fetch my phone, only to remember my end table wasn’t there anymore since I hadn’t put it back in its rightful place.
Hissing out a curse, I had to glance around to remember where my phone was sitting now.
I wasn’t sure why I was eager to see who it was. I didn’t have any close friends or family who would call unexpectedly. That left my prospects as work—someone who obviously needed me to come in last-minute on my day off to fill in—or someone from a study group, and with finals beginning the next day, all study partners likely would’ve contacted me way before now. So I had no reason to hurry because I really didn’t want to work tonight.
But when I saw Hudson’s name on my screen, everything inside me went into a state of chaos.
Hey, can I crash at your place tonight?
I pulled back, blinking at the message, certain it was a mistake. No way in hell would he really ask me that.
I started to reply so I could tell him he’d texted the wrong person. Because…really.
But then I paused and glanced around my front room that had been thoroughly Hudsoned, and I decided that maybe he would ask. The guy didn’t seem to know a stranger, and he clearly made himself at home wherever he went.
Why would he ask me, though? Why hadn’t he gone to one of the other six members of his oh-so-wonderful seven?
No idea. But I was too tired to guess his motives and sincerity. So I just wrote what I really wanted to answer.
I guess.
But as soon as I pressed send, another message came in from him.
Shit. Sorry. Wrong number.
Not yet used to having another F in my contacts.
“Oh, Jesus,” I muttered, feeling like a moron for giving him the idiotic answer I had. Of course, he hadn’t meant to text me. God, I was such a lost cause.
And why did I feel special for actually making it into his contact list? Not only that, but he’d labeled me under Faith. Not Stalker, the Calamity’s waitress, Key Girl, or any nickname like that. I was Faith to him. That made the butterflies in my belly flutter without mercy.
But still, I was mortified about falling for the whole mishap. So I wrote back a quick:
No worries.
And then I tossed my phone down on the couch beside me, so I could groan miserably into my hands.
The cat jumped off my lap to wander away toward the bedroom, probably thinking I was too much of a screw-up to be around anymore. With a defeated whimper, I shook my head and dragged myself off the couch so I could carry my supper remains to the kitchen area.
After cleaning up in there, I finished watching the movie and then started to prepare for the next day, making sure I had enough writing utensils and calculators, and everything I needed for my first final.
I’d just put on my pajamas, wanting to turn in early so I had plenty of sleep, when my phone rang.
Salem stopped cleaning herself abruptly and leaped off my bed to race out of the bedroom, clearly as startled by the ringtone as I was.
I edged toward my nightstand where the phone lay and caught my breath when I saw Hudson’s name blaring up at me.
Not pleased by the leap in my pulse that his name caused, I muttered, “Oh, jeez.” But what was he doing now? Butt dialing me?
“Hello?” I said tentatively as I accepted the call, prepared to hear static from his jeans pocket because he had no idea that he’d called.
But instead, his clear timbre answered, “Actually, my other prospect fell through. So can I take you up on your offer, after all?”
I blinked, not registering what he was saying for the longest moment because, oh my God, it was still just crazy that he was calling me right now. When it finally hit me that he was asking to stay the night in my apartment, my mouth fell open.
“Uh…” It had to be another misdial. I mean, no way in hell would he want to stay with me. That would just be beyond weird. “This is Faith,” I told him, hoping he’d get the hint that he’d messed up…again.
“Stalker Faith, yeah,” he said. “The waitress from Calamity’s who stole my watch and hasn’t yet murdered me for rearranging her apartment; I know.”
Oh.
Well, hell.
“And you want to stay here?” I blurted, shaking my head because none of this made sense. “Really?”
“Really, really. So what do you say?”
“You have nowhere else to go?” I pressed.
I wanted to ask about Genesis, but just…no. I didn’t like the idea of him staying over there, anyway.
“I mean…” I could hear the cringe in his voice. “I guess there are a few more places I could ask, but I don’t really want to bother them. And you already told me it was okay, so…”
“But…” I had no idea what to say after that because this felt as if it was happening outside my scope of reality. My brain couldn’t seem to compute.
“Did you change your mind?” he asked. “Because if you don’t want me?—”
“No, it’s not that!” I broke in a little too quickly because wanting him had been a two-year norm for me. But then I realized I probably shouldn’t be advertising that fact too openly. So I silently cursed and gnashed my teeth before trying to tug my foot right back out of my mouth. “I mean…”
Except I had no idea what I meant. I didn’t know what to do with this at all.
“It’s not that complicated, Stalker,” he told me, starting to sound amused as if the bastard enjoyed tying my emotions into little, awkward knots. “I can’t go home tonight, and all I need is a place to lay my head until morning. So do you have a problem with me doing that in your apartment or not? I’m not going to hate you either way.”
Well, when he said it like that, I couldn’t just let him stay stuck out on the streets all night.
“Oh, alright. Yes, you can come here,” I said before adding a reluctant, “I guess,” so he wouldn’t know how eager I was to see him again.
“Really?” Relief flooded his voice. “Oh fuck. Thank you. You have no idea how much I appreciate this. And don’t worry. I’m not a cover hog at all, plus no one’s ever told me I snore.”
Cover hog?
“Oh my God!” I cried in dismay. “No. You’re not staying in bed with me! You can have the couch!”
He laughed. “Of course, I know that. Damn, Stalker. I’m not that kind of boy. Don’t go gettin’ frisky ideas on me now.”
I scowled because I knew he’d misled me on purpose, so I felt the vengeful need to add, “And the cushions are lumpy as hell.”
“Hey, if they’re more comfortable than bunking with Chastity, I’ll take it.”
“Chastity?” I asked, my jealousy immediately skyrocketing at the mention of some other girl.
But Hudson only answered, “Yeah. My car.”
I immediately exhaled, feeling like a fool for the flare of envy I hadn’t been able to contain, and then I snorted. “You named your car?”
He sounded just as shocked when he retorted, “You didn’t?”
“Let me guess,” I said dryly. “You call it Chastity because you can’t seem to get laid in it.”
“Hell, no,” he told me proudly. “She’s seen plenty of action. I just like irony.”
“Oh God,” I groaned.
“Yeah,” he bragged. “She’s definitely heard that screamed a time or two in her back seat.”
“Wow. Funny,” I deadpanned to make him think I was disgusted. But I don’t think I really was. He was so completely open and unashamed about his sluttiness, and even though it made me want to scratch out the eyes of all the lucky bitches who’d gotten to be with him—Genesis obviously being number one on my list—there was just something incredibly charming about his frank, oblivious honesty. He didn’t hide anything, just laid it all out there, and I appreciated that.
“So are you home now, or do I need to wait until you get off work or something?”
With a capitulating sigh, I said, “I’m home now.”
“Great. I’ll be there in a minute. And hey, do you have some Tylenol I could borrow?”
“Tylenol?” Immediate fear plopped into the base of my stomach.
Suddenly, everything came rushing back to me: Hudson still drunk at Calamity’s and showing me his scarred wrists, confessing the return of the pressure; Robin researching all the reasons he may be feeling off; and me wanting to find out more about his past in order to get to the bottom of this.
But every time I’d been around him since Robin had put the whole ghost possession idea in my head, I’d completely forgotten about his headaches and suicidal tendencies. Hudson Ivey was just so full of life; it was hard to imagine him slumping low enough to want to end it.
“Is the pressure bothering you again?” I asked without thinking.
There was a significant pause before he carefully repeated, “Again?”
Crap. I bit my lip and winced before admitting, “You told me about it the other night at the bar when you were drunk.”
After another silence, he said, “I did?”
It was obvious he wasn’t a big fan of me knowing something like that about him. So I cleared my throat and tried to make it sound like not a big deal. “Yeah. That’s why you took your watch off, to begin with. To show me your wrists.”
“I showed you my wrists?”
The disbelief in his voice told me that wasn’t something he commonly did.
Hoping he didn’t accuse me of wheedling information from him when he’d been drunk, I cleared my throat and vaguely mumbled, “Mm-hmm.”
“Well, that’s just…interesting,” he murmured, and I could tell how much learning what he’d revealed to me had thrown him. “I had no idea I was such a chatty drunk.”
“You were trying to convince me how good of friends your buddies were.”
I could almost hear him shake his head. “That makes absolutely no sense at all.”
With a shrug, I answered, “Well, you were wasted. I don’t know what to tell you.”
“I guess,” he agreed slowly.
“I’m, uh, actually glad I have a minute to talk to you,” I started in before I could stop myself. “Because I did a little research on the symptoms you mentioned to me?—”
“Wait. You…” He huffed out an exasperated sound before rasping, “I mentioned my symptoms to you?”
“A little bit, yes.”
“And so you just went out and researched them? Are you fucking serious?”
I bit my lip. “Was that bad?”
“No,” he said without hesitation. “Not at all. It’s kind of sweet, actually. And flattering. Fuck, I’m not sure what to call it. So did you find out what’s wrong with me?”
Nothingis what I immediately wanted to blurt. There was absolutely nothing wrong with him. He had to be the most amazingly perfect human I’d ever met.
But I cleared my throat, knowing what he meant, and I said, “I, uh, I came up with a couple of theories. Some are more…far-fetched than others.”
“Well, now I’m invested. What kind of freaky, bizarre ailment do I have?”
“We’ll talk about it when you get here.”
“Sounds mysterious. Count me in. I’m only a few minutes out. I’ll see you then.”
“Okay.”
“Oh, and Faith?”
“Yes?”
“I really am that kind of boy.” Then he chuckled as he hung up.
I exhaled dizzily as I set the phone down, trying to adjust to the fact that I was going to see him again in just a few minutes. I was going to?—
“Oh hell.” I glanced down at the pajamas I was wearing, which consisted of the oldest, largest, rattiest T-shirt I owned.
I had to change into something that didn’t reveal I’d been ready for bed at eight o’clock on a Sunday night.