Chapter 11

HUDSON

Dancing with Diana was a stark contrast to the nightlife scene back in NYC. Here, on the dance floor of this small-town pool hall, I felt like a different man.

Diana moved with a carefree abandon. It was refreshing. She was dancing to dance and feel good. She wasn't trying to seduce me or use me for free drinks. She was simply enjoying the music, lost in her own world.

I found myself captivated by the genuine smile on Diana's face as we danced. Her laughter was infectious, and for a moment, I let myself forget about the chaos of my usual lifestyle. She was a breath of fresh air in a world tainted by ulterior motives and superficial connections. She didn't know who I was or how much money I had.

This was the first woman that was meeting me first. She wasn't meeting my name or my money or my reputation. It was strange but in a good way.

I admired how effortlessly she seemed to let go of all her worries and simply exist in the present moment. I wanted that kind of freedom. Then again, she was a little tipsy. That was why I drank. I liked that freedom too.

The only problem was it took a lot more of everything to get to that feeling of being carefree for me. Like enough to kill a normal person. My tolerance had gotten pretty high. Then again, so had I.

The country song came to an end. The music transitioned to a slower tune, which was just fine with me. Diana hesitated for a moment, looking uncertain. Without thinking, I pulled her closer, guiding her in a gentle sway to the music. She relaxed into my embrace, her head resting against my chest as we moved together in sync.

The rhythm was slow and melodic. The gravelly voice was singing something about Tennessee whiskey and women. Peace washed over me, a feeling I hadn't experienced in a long time.

As we danced, I kept stealing glances at Diana's face. Her eyes were closed, a small smile on her lips. In that moment, she seemed so vulnerable yet so incredibly strong. I found myself wanting to protect that vulnerability, to shield her from the harsh realities of the world outside this makeshift dance floor and beyond the town limits.

It was clear she was having the time of her life, and I found myself getting caught up in her infectious enthusiasm. When the song ended, we made our way back to the table where Rachel was sitting with a couple of other people I had been introduced to, but I couldn't remember their names.

Just then, her friend Troy made his way over to our table, a mischievous grin on his face. He nodded in my direction, a silent warning in his eyes.

"What's going on?" I asked with a little hesitation. I felt like there was an inside joke and I was not in on it.

Troy looked at Diana and grinned. "Things are about to get wild."

"Why?" I asked.

"I just pulled up some of Diana's favorite songs to play," he replied.

I wasn't getting it.

"You didn't!" Diana exclaimed.

"Oh, I did." Troy laughed.

"No," Rachel groaned.

"Oh yeah." Troy nodded. "Mamma Mia coming up."

Diana laughed and threw her hands in the air. "Yes!"

The first notes of a song began. Diana shot Troy a playful glare, but she was clearly thrilled. Without missing a beat, she grabbed my hand and dragged me back onto the dance floor.

"She's a hazard," Troy warned me with a chuckle, gesturing toward Diana with a nod of his head. "Watch out for those flailing arms of hers."

Diana waved him off, laughing. "You just have to dance!" she exclaimed. "Let the music move through you."

Despite Troy's teasing, there was something undeniably charming about the way Diana threw herself into the music. She didn't seem to care a bit if anyone else liked her moves. She wasn't dancing for them, or for me for that matter. She was dancing because it was fun.

It was a refreshing change from the superficiality of the city nightlife scene.

"What is this?" I asked.

"You've never seen Mamma Mia?" She grinned. "Here we go again."

"What is that?" I asked. "Is that a painting?"

Diana's eyes widened in disbelief and she laughed. "It's a movie. And maybe a play? I've only seen the movie. You've seriously never seen it?"

"Nope." I shook my head. "I don't even know what that is."

"Oh, you're missing out." She giggled.

"I'm going to have to take your word for it," I said.

The song ended, and once again, we made our way back to the table.

"He survived," Rachel joked.

As we settled back at the table, Troy leaned in with a goofy grin. "She likes musicals."

"Musicals?" I asked. "Like Broadway?"

"I've never been to Broadway," Diana said. "But I like good music and a good show. Pitch Perfect, have you seen it?"

"I'm guessing that's another movie?" I asked.

"Yes, and it's amazing!" Diana exclaimed. "We need to have a movie night soon. You would love it." She grinned, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

There was something about her love for music and movies that was hard to resist. If it took me watching people sing their hearts out to get to spend some time with her, I would do it. Listening to her talk to friends was a glimpse into her life. It felt like we had known each other for years, not just a few hours.

"I really should go," Diana said after a while. "I'm beat and I have to work tomorrow."

"Ah, come on," Troy said. "I've got a game coming up."

"I'll walk home," she said.

I was slightly alarmed. It was probably not a good idea for me to drive just then. I had been hauled into jail many times, but none of them involved drinking and driving. I knew better.

"I'll walk you home," I offered. "Some cool night air will do me good."

"You walk her home." Rachel nodded. "Good plan. I'll keep an eye on Troy."

Troy raised his eyebrows. "No one has kept an eye on me in a long time."

Rachel elbowed him.

"Oh, yeah." Troy nodded. "She needs to keep an eye on me."

Diana and I walked out of the pool hall. The air was a little humid but not hot. The night was quiet as we strolled down the dimly lit streets, the only sound being our footsteps echoing against the pavement. Diana walked with a lightness to her step.

"That was fun, right?" she asked with a sigh.

"It was."

"I bet you didn't think you could have fun in our little town, did you?"

I chuckled. "I don't think I was looking for fun, but I'm glad I found it."

I walked Diana back to her small house. She fumbled a bit with the keys before finally unlocking the door. She burst into giggles when she dropped her keys. It was adorable, but it also made me realize just how drunk she really was.

As we made our way inside her house, I felt guilty. Maybe I shouldn't have let her drink so much. She was a sweet woman who I suspected wasn't a big drinker. I hadn't realized she was this wasted until now. I should have been more responsible.

"Diana, maybe you should sit down for a bit," I suggested, guiding her toward the nearest chair.

"I think I'm a little drunk," she said, rubbing her nose.

"Let me help you with your shoes."

She nodded, her movements sluggish as she tried to kick off her shoes. I knelt down in front of her, gently tugging at the straps until they slipped off her feet.

"I'm thirsty," she said. "I wonder if I have any beer here."

"I don't think you need beer," I said. "Maybe some water or juice. And a cheeseburger."

She groaned. "Oh man, a cheeseburger sounds amazing right now."

Once her shoes were off, I helped her to her feet and led her to the kitchen. She stumbled to the refrigerator and opened it. I hoped there wasn't anything in there that had alcohol. This was one thing I knew a lot about. She did not want or need alcohol.

I filled a glass with water from the tap and handed it to her. "Here, drink this. It'll help with the hangover tomorrow. Do you have some ibuprofen?"

"Yep."

"Where?" I asked.

I wasn't impatient. I knew exactly what she was feeling. I had been in her shoes more than once. She wasn't trying to be difficult.

She took the glass with a grateful smile, but her coordination seemed to have gotten even worse. She stumbled over her own feet, bumping into the kitchen counter as she took a sip.

"Easy there." I chuckled, steadying her with a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe you should sit down while you drink that."

She nodded, sinking into a nearby chair and taking another sip of water. I watched her for a moment, feeling a twinge of guilt at the sight of her struggling to keep herself upright.

"Where's the ibuprofen?"

She pointed to a cabinet. I quickly found the bottle of pills and shook out a couple of tablets. I handed them to her, watching as she swallowed them.

Maybe I should have been more responsible, kept an eye on her throughout the night instead of getting caught up in the fun of it all. I wasn't used to partying with lightweights. I also wasn't used to stopping at a reasonable limit.

"Drink a little more water," I instructed gently.

Diana obediently took a few more sips, her eyes starting to droop from the alcohol's effects. I could see she was on the verge of passing out.

"Hey, Diana," I said softly, trying to rouse her from the haze that was descending upon her. "Why don't we get you to bed? You'll feel better in the morning."

She nodded slowly, allowing me to help her stand up and guide her toward the bedroom. The room was small, with a neatly made bed and a soft lamp casting a warm glow. Diana swayed slightly as she stood in the middle of the room, her eyes half-lidded.

"Here we are," I said, leading her to sit on the edge of the bed. "Let's get you under the covers."

She complied, letting out a small yawn as I pulled the sheets back. She flopped face-first onto the mattress, her words slurring slightly as she mumbled into the bed.

"Bra," she murmured.

"Excuse me?"

"Help. Bra." She awkwardly tried to reach behind her. I understood what she was saying. It was a strangely intimate moment. With a gentle touch, I unhooked the bra, letting it fall open. She rolled over and pulled one strap through one sleeve and then the other before pulling it out from under her shirt and tossing it across the room.

"I want to get out of here," she said on a drunken sigh.

"What?" I asked with confusion.

"I've always secretly dreamed of seeing the world," she said. "But I can't. I'm trapped within the confines of Cold Springs. My father is very strict. He has some very high expectations and really traditional values. I don't want to disappoint him."

Listening to her talk, it was clear that she felt stifled by the expectations placed on her. I could sense a simmering resentment toward her father and the life she felt trapped in. I understood. I got it. It seemed like it was a common trend in this little town. Maybe the town wasn't quite as perfect as it seemed to be.

"I think you have to do what makes you happy," I said, taking a seat on the edge of her bed.

She rambled on about wanting to see the world but she couldn't leave because her dad always wanted his kids around. I listened, struggling a bit to follow her line of thinking, but she seemed to have a lot of pent-up frustration.

"Here, let's have you drink a little more water," I said.

I held the glass up to her lips while she drank some down. I put the glass on her nightstand and pulled the blanket over her.

"I'll be in the living room if you need anything," I told her softly, reluctant to leave her alone in her current state. "Just drink as much water as you can. The morning is going to be rough."

Tucking her into bed, I couldn't shake the feeling of protectiveness that washed over me as I watched her drift off to sleep. Despite the late hour and the alcohol-induced haze that clouded her mind, she still looked so vulnerable. I felt a surge of affection toward her that confused me. It wasn't normal for me. I liked it, but it was so different from anything I had known.

With one last glance, I quietly slipped out of her bedroom and settled onto the couch in the living room, just in case she ended up puking or needing something.

I was a gentleman, but I imagined what it would be like to curl up in bed next to her and fall asleep with her in my arms.