“Waiter, another drink, please?” I called to Michael, my arm stretched toward him as he stood over me and Serena. After our tragic loss at beer pong, we’d found our way to the love seat and hadn’t moved since.
“I’m not being your waiter tonight. I already told you.” He stood tall over us, his arms crossed.
“You’ve already gotten me, like, five beers. You are our waiter,” I said, shooting him my cutest smile. Which, to be honest, probably looked pretty ridiculous. “And you don’t want us getting drinks from strangers, do you?”
“She’s right. We could get drugged or something. And then how would you feel?” Serena said, draining her cup and lifting it toward him.
I turned my empty cup upside down. “You tell him, boss,” I said, encouraging her. “Also, just as a pointer, you’ve been superslow with the drinks, so you might wanna—” I snapped my fingers repeatedly.
“Hear, hear!” Serena agreed.
Michael uncrossed his arms and then recrossed them. “Sometimes I really wonder how I put up with the two of you,” he said.
“Oh, yeah? You won’t be saying that to me in a few hours,” Serena said, shooting Michael her best attempt at sultry in her current state, which included her awkwardly biting her bottom lip.
I covered my mouth, a laugh bubbling up as I watched Michael look at Serena. He was frozen, one cup in each hand. He had some decisions to make.
“Why a few hours?” He dropped our empty cups on the floor. “Why not now?”
“You’re gonna have to be a little more convincing…,” she prodded playfully.
Michael left the room swiftly, returning with a tall, squared glass vase full of fake cream-and-light-pink dahlias. It was the kind that looked like it was filled with water, but it was squishy clear plastic, like something you’d see in the waiting room of a dentist’s office. He presented the flowers with a dramatic flourish and a goofy grin.
I folded over onto myself, my nose to my knees as I laughed. The look on her face was priceless.
“Oh my God, stop it,” she laughed, her hand over her mouth as Michael continued to stand there, arms stretched toward her, vase in hands.
I threw myself backward into the couch. I couldn’t watch this. I was going to pee my pants if I kept laughing like this.
Serena extended her arm, and Michael hoisted her off the couch, tucking the vase under his free arm like a football.
“I can’t,” I said, trying to catch my breath. I held my stomach. Michael holding that vase full of fake flowers under his arm was entirely too much for me. How had that thing even gotten into their house to begin with?
“What’d I miss?” Hudson stepped into the small clearing around the couch. He looked at me, but I couldn’t talk.
“Nada,” Michael said, handing the vase to Hudson. “You watch this one.” He pointed at me as he hooked his arm around Serena’s shoulders.
“I don’t understand this,” Hudson said, spinning around the room looking for a place to set down the vase. He looked between me and the flowers he held with both hands.
“Which part?” I asked, finally curbing my laughter. “The vase itself or the fact that they even own something like that?”
“Both, I guess,” he said. He set the vase on the coffee table across the room that had been pushed to the side to make space in the living room.
“Same,” I said. “Sit?” I wiped away the tears of laughter from my eyes.
“Yeah, definitely.” He smiled, plopping down next to me. His knee immediately started bouncing.
“That is gonna need to stop,” I said, pointing to his leg and feeling like my movements were exaggerated by the alcohol.
“That doesn’t stop,” he said.
I watched him for a moment. His cheeks were rosy from the beer, and his hair was a mess from running his hands through it. I wanted to run my hands through it, just to see what it was like. This was only the second time I’d seen him without the beanie.
“Where’s your hat?”
“I told you I forgot it.” He touched his hair, confused.
“It’s your most redeeming article of clothing.… Well, I guess it’s more like an accessory.”
“You noticed my redeeming accessory?”
“I mean, your sense of style is all over the place,” I said, flicking at his blue-and-white-checkered button-down. “This has potential, but you have the sleeves rolled down like a nerd.” I ran my finger over the cuff he’d been pulling at in the basement. It was evident that it was well fidgeted with over the years. The cuffs were worn and fraying in spots.
“Then roll them up,” he said, offering me his arm.
I carefully unbuttoned the cuff, looking between his face and my fingers. He watched me closely. “Now pay attention, okay?” I grasped the cuff and pulled it up his arm to his elbow. “Pull the cuff all the way, okay? Don’t start rolling it at the wrist.”
He nodded as he watched intently.
I slipped my fingertips between the sleeve and his arm, the tops of my fingers brushing gently against his skin. “Then you fold this up to the bottom of the cuff.” I smoothed the fold, adjusting and smoothing again once more before gesturing for his other arm.
“Do you want to try doing this one yourself?” I asked as I unbuttoned the other cuff. I’d been dreaming about dressing Hudson for weeks; this was the beginning of a dream come true.
He shook his head as he watched me. “You do it,” he said, his face serious.
“Okay.” I pulled the other cuff up to his elbow, then slipped my fingers between his arm and the shirt, taking a little longer than necessary.
“You know I’m going to Paris this summer, probably for the fall semester, too,” I said as I tugged at a wrinkle in the cuff.
He let out a groan in response.
“What?” I asked with a laugh, giving his sleeve one last smoothing before settling back against the arm of the couch.
“You,” he said as a means of explanation.
“What does that even mean?” I asked, my smile reflecting his.
“It means why are we talking about this?” he asked, dropping his head back against the couch, his face toward the ceiling. His knee started bouncing again.
“I was just saying,” I said, shoving his shoulder. “Excuse me for caring about your feelings.” I kicked at his bouncing knee.
He rolled his head my way. “You care about my feelings?” he asked with a megawatt grin I’d yet to see.
I blushed. “No!” I said, delivering a whack to his abdomen. He caught my arm and attempted to pull me into him.
“You care about my feelings, that’s so sweet,” he said, still trying to pull me.
“Let me go.” I laughed as I tried to pull my arm back. He shook his head, tugging me a little harder.
“Let me go, Impulse Control Issues,” I teased as I tugged harder. He let go and I fell back into the arm of the couch.
“You want impulse control issues? I’ll show you impulse control issues.” He fisted my scarf, kissing me hard.
I closed my eyes, feeling warmth spread through me as I kissed him. I’d been watching his lips for weeks in class, and now they were pressed to mine. They were everything I’d imagined. They were better than I’d imagined. My head swam. The beer taking more control than I would have liked. But I was kissing Hudson.
I was kissing Hudson. Oh, shit.
I pulled away, putting my hand to his chest.
“No,” I said, my other hand pressed to my forehead and then my lips.
He groaned in response, dropping his head back against the couch again. “That was a perfect moment, you know,” he said as he rolled his head toward me. “I’d been waiting for the perfect moment, and that was it.”
It was a perfect moment for eight months from then.
“You disagree?” he asked with a smirk.
He knew I didn’t disagree. How could I dispute the fact that that had been an incredible kiss?
“So, you agree, then?” he continued when I didn’t respond. “We just had a perfect first kiss.” He smiled at me and opened his arms, inviting me into them. I stared at him and shook my head, unsure of what exactly he wanted. His arms were spread as he opened and closed his hands.
“Did you say first kiss? As in, you assume there will be a second kiss?” I asked, amused at the idea.
“Oh, there will be a second kiss,” he said, his hands calling to me.
“I am not going to cuddle with you right now,” I said. “And don’t hold your breath on that second kiss.”
He pouted, his arms still open. His hands still beckoning.
I released a deep breath. “Fine,” I acquiesced, adjusting to lean on him, my cheek pressed to his chest.
He held his arms open until I’d settled, then wrapped them around me. It was an amazing sensation. The weight of his arms around me. The rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He grasped my wrist and pulled my arm across his abdomen, releasing a happy moan as I settled my arm where he put it.
I closed my eyes. This was a bad idea, the best kind of bad idea, but still a bad idea. How long was I going to tell myself that I didn’t like Hudson, especially now that it was clear he liked me?
“This is probably a bad idea,” I said, adjusting into him.
“Nope. This is a great idea.” He cupped my head against his chest; I could hear the smile in his voice.
I grinned, letting out a breathy laugh. “Can you get in trouble for this?” I asked. “The whole TA-student thing?”
He sighed deeply, his body relaxing into the couch. “We’re a thing?”
I smiled as I shook my head. “No, we are not a thing,” I said, tilting my head so I could see his face. “But the TA-student thing is definitely a thing.”
“Then, no,” he said, his eyes closed. His face calm. “But I’d be willing to get into all sorts of trouble over you.”
“Ha. Ha,” I said, resting my head against his chest again. His thumb grazed my ear and then my cheek.
“This is getting weird,” I said, even though his touch was incredible.
“Je sais. Ça va aller,” he whispered as his thumb grazed my cheek again.
If we stayed like this a moment longer, he would fall asleep. And I might, too. “I’m sitting up now,” I said, half-heartedly trying to push off him.
He held me tighter. “Nooooo,” he groaned.
“Yessss,” I mimicked.
He squeezed me as he adjusted into the couch more, slouching and taking me with him. “Just five more minutes,” he said.
I bit my bottom lip. I yawned as I settled into him. “Fine, five more minutes.” I nuzzled my cheek into the softness of his shirt. “But that’s it. No falling asleep, either.” I poked him in the side playfully.
He shied away from another poke. “Sure thing, Edie.” He breathed deeply, sleepily.