Chapter 23 #2
“That’s bullshit,” Hudson scoffs. “You started a company from scratch. You had to market and manage events. Hell, in the last two days, I’ve watched you navigate impossible situations, problem-solve, and manage different personalities gracefully.
If you can handle a high-stress event like a wedding, I’m sure you could handle a team in corporate America. ”
“I don’t need you to get me a job,” I argue, shutting him down.
The last thing I want is for Hudson to see me as some charity case.
Or worse, to find myself in the same position I was in with Phoebe, where I was just a tool in her work kit.
She never really understood me. She always wanted me to be someone else, to censor myself, to tone down my artistic expression to meet the desires of the masses.
And, over time, I adhered to her demands until the personality I displayed in my photos started to vanish and my work looked like everyone else’s.
“I know,” Hudson replies genuinely, “but I think you could do it, if you wanted to. Honestly, I think you’d be perfect for it.”
“Because my portfolio of taffeta gowns and three-tiered chocolate cakes really makes people want to buy hiking boots and plan a trip to the Alps.”
“No, but your documentary work does. I loved that photo of the man at the park, feeding the ducks. It reminded me of days I spent at the lake with my grandfather.”
I stare at him, incredulous. “You scrolled that far back?”
This time Hudson’s cheeks are the ones to flush. “To the beginning.”
“There’s like seven years of work on there.”
“And every single image captivated me.”
I roll my eyes.
“I mean it. There’s life within every frame.
Like there was one shot, this pair of shoes that’d been discarded on the floor.
You could see a part of the table, a half-eaten piece of cake, an opened bag, and a glass with lipstick on the rim.
What other people might think of as a throwaway image made me feel as if I was there.
I could hear the music in the reception hall.
Feel the vibration of wood against bare feet.
Feel the joy of living in the moment. That kind of talent is rare. ”
“I didn’t know you were such a fanboy,” I quip.
“Only for you,” he says, holding the camera up to snap a photo of me, catching me off guard.
“Delete that,” I command, certain that it caught me at my worst angle.
“Never,” he boasts, flipping the camera to show me the image. I usually dislike photos of myself, but seeing my reflection through his eyes makes me feel beautiful.
“It’s . . . amazing,” I say, meaning it. The composition could use some work, but seeing the emotion within the frame, the genuine smile streaked across my lips, one inspired by him, makes me grateful to have it immortalized on my screen.
“I think so too,” he replies, staring at me as if he’s talking about more than the photo.
Snatching the camera back, I tuck it away in my bag.
His job offer bubbles away in my mind. I’ve always assumed that I’d have to find a normal job, an office job.
And I have to admit that kind of soul-sucking corporate environment kept the fire for self-employment burning.
But I didn’t realize that there might be another option.
When I turn around, I find Hudson is removing his shirt, exposing the freckles that cover his torso. I can’t help but stare at his toned arms, the whisper of abs beneath his lanky frame, the trail of red hair that starts above his belly button and travels down into his shorts.
“What are you doing?”
“Going for a swim,” he says, stripping down to his black boxer briefs and extending a hand towards me. “You want to come?”
I divert my gaze from the bulge protruding through the thin fabric.
“I think we discovered yesterday that me and water don’t mix well.”
“There are no rapids here. No danger,” he assures me, wading into the water. And although I should have an aversion to all water-based activities, I find myself removing my clothes. His gaze lingers on my body, and I’ve never been more grateful to have put on matching underwear.
“I’m only doing this because it’s blistering out here,” I explain, as sweat drips down my back.
“Whatever you have to tell yourself,” he says, diving underneath the surface.
I go to follow him in and stop short when the water hits my knees.
“It’s freezing,” I shout, as he swims further away from the shore.
“You just have to go for it,” Hudson explains, dunking his head and popping back up like a mythical creature. Desperate to be near him, I close my eyes and jump.
“This is worse than the shower,” I say, wading through the icy waters.
“Give it a second,” he says, swimming over to me, his body warm as it presses against mine. “See? Not so bad, right?” he asks. I wrap my arm around his neck, keeping him close to me. The sun sparkles against the water, as Hudson points out schools of whitefish underneath our feet.
“I like this,” I say, tracing the illustration etched onto his ribcage with my fingers.
“It’s Narsil,” he explains, “the sword Aragorn is awarded to signify his birthright to the throne.”
“Of course it is,” I tease, knowing that his Lord of the Rings obsession runs deep.
“Did you know that Aragorn reforged the sword to defeat Sauron in the final battle?”
“Is that why you got it?”
“Partly, but I think for me it’s a representation of inner strength. A reminder that, no matter how broken we become, we can always reshape and reforge to become the ruler of our own destiny.”
“That’s beautiful,” I say, before focusing my attention on the words written against his chest, but the script is in a language I don’t understand.
“It says ‘Mor Boe Vanya,’” Hudson says, running my thumb over the tattoo. “It’s Elvish for ‘even darkness must pass.’”
“Wow. So it really is an obsession then,” I say, picking at his fandom.
“More of a comfort thing,” he explains, floating beside me. “My dad wanted me to see the adventure in everything, or at least that’s what he said when he gifted me his copy of The Hobbit on my eighth birthday.”
“Those are impressive reading skills.”
“It took me a few years to actually understand it, but it’s my favorite of the series.”
“Oh, I know.”
He raises an eyebrow towards me. “Do you?”
“Everyone always thinks that my job is just capturing the big moments, but I pay attention to the little details too,” I say, floating alongside him.
“And what have you noticed?”
“Besides the fact that you have an indention in almost every pair of your jeans from where you carry it around in your back pocket. I also saw you reading it in the room earlier.”
“Mira, are you admitting to checking out my ass?” he asks, in mock scandal.
“As if you haven’t checked out mine,” I retort, giving his butt a squeeze.
He returns the gesture, resting his lips against my neck. His breath is warm against my skin and he kisses down my shoulder, gently biting against me.
“I also have a confession,” I say, pulling away from him.
“What’s that?” he asks, his voice playful as he moves my hair behind my ear.
“Be warned, it might change everything between us, but Fellowship of the Ring is my go-to nap movie.”
“No!” he scoffs, slamming his hands against the water in mock devastation.
“Orlando Bloom doesn’t appear until an hour and a half in. And by then I’m already asleep.”
“You have to watch the extended cuts. That’s where the stories shine.”
“You really think if I can’t get through the standard edition, that those stand a chance?”
“What if we made a date out of it?” he says, as we float further toward the lake’s center.
“We can try but I’ll just end up falling asleep on your shoulder.”
His eyes study me, as the gentle sway of the water rocks us against one another, and I’m greedy for his attention. “I’m sure I could find ways to keep you awake.”
There’s a challenge in his words that makes my entire body shiver, and I want him to show me now. To take those hands and explore my body. To make every nerve ending alight with sensation. I hook my legs around his torso, making me weightless as he holds me up in the water.
“I’ve dreamed about this for so long,” he says, his fingers trailing up my spine. “About me and you, together.”
“Is it as good as you imagined?” I ask, his eyes lingering on my lips.
“It’s better,” he says, raking a hand through my hair, guiding my mouth to his.
Eager to make up for lost time, to thaw the cold shoulder I’ve been giving him, I squeeze my legs around him until I’m flush against his chest. I can feel the heat against his skin as my lips move to his neck, and up towards his ear, gently biting against it.
“Mmm,” he moans as I run my nails along the back of his neck, nibbling at the bruise I left there. He sighs into my touch and I bite down harder.
The last time we were together like this I rushed through it, letting adrenaline take over, but today I can take my time. I pull at the back of his hair and am thrilled when he moans the same way he had outside of Finn’s.
“That’s not fair,” he says, his cheeks flushed so vibrantly I wish I could bottle the color and paint my ceiling with it.
With no space between us, I can feel him harden against me as I slide my hand below his waistband, moving to stroke the length of him. He breathes my name and I grind against him, using the water’s buoyancy to our advantage.
“Mira,” he pleads, as I continue working him over.
I know we should stop, that we we’re exposed out in the open like this, but with nothing between us, I want all of him.