leaves the kitchen. I hear the soft click of his bedroom door closing between us. I shake my head clear and focus on finding dinner, the task I had planned on doing before I was interrupted by his amazing lips.
I search through the fridge and cabinets until I come up with enough ingredients to make a fresh salad. I keep my mind trained on chopping the lettuce and tomatoes, shredding the carrots and cheese, and dicing the leftover chicken from yesterday. I mix everything together and then add a little bit of ranch dressing before taking it to the couch to eat. I pick up the remote and flip through the channels until I find some romance movie. I drop the remote and hold my bowl between my chest and knees as I sit, watching. As I eat, I laugh, cry, and curse myself for not living in a romantic comedy. I can’t help but picture Hudson as the actor in the movie and me as the actress. I don’t envision my brother in the story at all though. He’s the reason we can’t be together now.
I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes in the past when it comes to men, but doesn’t he see how much I’ve grown up, how mature I’ve become? I guess fighting for the right to screw his best friend wouldn’t help my case. It’s not like I’m in love with him. I’m just…in lust with him. The night we were together wasn’t even romantic. It wasn’t slow and passionate. It was raw, real, and dirty, the way real life normally is. He made me feel good, so good. Just thinking about him causes goosebumps to prickle my skin. He causes my blood to boil, my heart to race. I mean, that should mean something, shouldn’t it?
I’ve been with a lot of guys, but none of them ever made me feel the way Hudson does. What if the only reason you feel this way is because you know that you’ll never work out? Another way to self-sabotage? I think to myself. God knows I’ve done that enough in my life already. But that couldn’t be true because I wanted him before I knew he was off-limits. I wanted him because I thought I’d never be good enough for him, not pretty enough, or old enough. I wanted him because he was one of the things I missed most about this place after we moved to Denver. Even though he never would’ve given me the time of day or entertained the thought of being with me because I was a child, he was still always nice and sweet. He’d listen when I had things to say, instead of just blowing me off and saying he didn’t have time for me like my brother and parents always did. Hudson Slade was exactly what I needed back then, and he’s exactly what I need right now.
I know it. I think deep down, he knows it too. And I won’t give up until he admits it, admits it and fights against this line we’re not supposed to cross. I smile to myself when I think about how we pushed that line a little to the side tonight. Maybe tomorrow, we’ll push it a little more, and the next day and the next. Before you know it, there will be nothing between us, that line barely a blur in our past.
When I wake in the morning, Brad and Hudson are both sitting at the kitchen table with cups of coffee in their hands.
“Morning,” I say, walking in and heading straight to the coffee pot. I quickly glance at Hudson as I pass, and his blue eyes follow me. “How was work?”
“It was work,” Brad replies. “No offense, but that brewery kind of sucks for guys like me.”
Hudson laughs. “Yeah, I feel ya. Hell, it’s part mine and even I won’t work there. I’ve been looking to join the fire department.”
“Damn,” Brad says. “You won’t be able to keep the chicks off you, man.” Brad laughs.
In my mind, all I can picture is Hudson’s rock-hard body dressed up as one of those firefighters that pose in women’s calendars, the ones who only ever wear the pants and suspenders and no shirt. My dazing off gets the best of me, and I drop the spoon I was using to stir my coffee with.
Brad jumps from the sudden loud noise. “What’s your problem back there?”