19. Hudson

19

HUDSON

B ringing Ember to the restaurant was the only way I was going to keep my hands off her. I have absolutely no resistance in any part of my body when it comes to her.

The most dangerous being the goddamn beating organ in the middle of my chest, protected by a useless cage of taffy textured bones, that can’t seem to think logically when it comes to her.

If I don’t get my actions under control, I’ll end up pushing her away.

I can see it written all over her face. She’s teetering on the edge of running. I’m still shocked she’s here with me now.

We’re seated at a window table, facing each other. She’s rubbing her hands together and picking at her nails nervously, so needless to say, when she wants to talk about the situation we’re in, I’m shocked.

“I think we should figure this out.” She meets my gaze, her gorgeous emerald eyes shining with meaning, and dare I say hope .

“I think so, too. What are you thinking?” I ask, happily giving her all the power I feel she needs.

“Maybe… it could work?” she says so quietly I barely hear it.

I sit up straighter with hope blooming in my chest.

“How long is the season?” she asks, looking down at her hands still kneading into each other.

“Officially… through September, pending playoffs,” I reply, hesitantly, knowing how long that sounds.

Her eyes widen momentarily, but return to a normal size after she exhales a sizable breath.

“Okay, we live together for the season. That’ll keep your coach off your back and my parents off mine. I’ll go to the events you need me to be at, and you can come back home with me for my parents’ anniversary.” Her gaze is still down as she nods, as if she’s trying to talk herself into it. I can’t help but nod along.

“I will contribute to the rent. I won’t be a charity case. I’ll pay my half, and?—”

“Ember,” I interrupt.

“No, Hudson, that’s a deal breaker for me,” she insists.

I put my hands up in surrender, just in time for the food to arrive.

The waitress comes by and slides our dinner plates in front of us. When the season starts, I always mind my food and eat lean meats and veggies, so her seafood pasta looks far more appetizing than my grilled chicken and broccoli.

She picks up her fork, poking gently at the greens mixed in with the shrimp. She only looked my way to insist about making payments for the rent. Other than that, she’s avoided all eye contact with me. She just continues to pick at her food, losing herself in the action. She’s so unpredictable it has me on edge. At this point, I just need her to be comfortable, because I’ll take her anyway I can get her.

“So, we do this. Live together. We can act like we are a happily married couple until we divorce at the end of the season. In the meantime, we’ll be… friends, you know, do our own thing.”

Wait. What? That took a fucking turn I was not expecting.

“Friends?” I respond, disgustingly.

“Yeah, friends.”

Uh, no. I don’t fucking think so. I know I just said I would take her anyway I could get her, but are you kidding me?

Live with her and study every crevice of her body? Sleep next to her and not swallow her with my entire body? Walk with her on my arm, claiming her, without having her?

Hell no.

“Ember, we are not friends.” Her eyes shoot up to mine. “We are way more than friends.”

“I can’t, Hudson.” She nods incessantly, unnecessarily.

“Can’t what?”

“You make my head all fuzzy when you touch me. I can’t think straight, and that’s bad for me. This has to be completely platonic for it to work for me.” Her eyes are begging, pleading, in a desperation I can’t understand. “We both have a lot we’re working toward in our careers. That should be our main focus. So, this should be an easy, agreeable, business arrangement that benefits us both.”

We both have a lot to focus on, and yes, we are infused with each other in moments of passion. So much that I understand exactly what she’s saying. It’s consuming, all-encompassing, and I can so easily get lost in her. But how can we ignore this?

I have no control over my motor functions as my head bobs automatically, agreeing with her. She’s on the edge, almost ready to jump into this with me. My entire being, from the layers of my skin to the depths of my soul, agrees unanimously.

I guess I will take anything I can get.

“So, we do this… as friends? ”

“Absolutely. Friends,” I repeat, hating the way it sounds as it leaves my mouth.

She grants me a relieved smile that shines in her eyes. Like a load has been lifted and she can smile again without suffering.

Well, I’m wholly, fully, and entirely screwed, because I’ll agree to anything for her with a smile like that.