“Well, the high-tech iPad with the Trello board full of chore tasks didn’t either. Maybe if you see this every time you go into the fridge, you’ll remember when it’s your turn to take out the trash.”
His snarky attitude took me back to college when my roommates and I had argued about how to split the utility bills, who ate the last of the cereal, and how sick the milk might make us when it smelled like that. If one of them had introduced a chore chart, I would’ve been pissed off. It probably would’ve sparked a fight with my ex-wife too. But as I watched Hudson flip through the condiments and decide how to arrange them in the fridge, I was more amused than exasperated.
A lot of what Hudson did amused me. How he talked to his cat, General Ledger, like she was an adult human. How he said he hated scary shows but watched them with me anyway—even if he talked the whole time. How he said I deserved to have my tastebuds removed for the “culinary violation” of putting ketchup on my steak.
I’d had a lot of male friends throughout my life, but none of them were as special to me as Hudson. Either our friendship was different or…or…I didn’t know how to fill in that blank.
Maybe my response to Ollie giving me shit and the resulting confusing feelings meant it was time to date again. Hudson might like it if I did since he was more introverted than me and was probably tired of me forcing him to spend so much time together as my closest friend, roommate, hobby companion, and general entertainment. Yikes. Yeah. That was too much to put on one person. He didn’t need to be the center of my social life and emotional support. I should take Ollie up on his offer to help me make a dating app profile.
Deep thoughts for league night. I grabbed a slice of the sharp white Tillamook cheddar Hudson always had on hand, folded it, and shoved it in my mouth. He snatched the bag from me, which…fair. I had a bad habit of eating all his cheese.
“How was work?” I leaned against the counter. I would offer to help, but he had a system, and I would only get in the way.
He groaned.
“That bad, huh?” I watched him refill the crisper drawers with the produce he used for his breakfast smoothies.
“Good ol’ Jimmy.” He said the words with about as much enthusiasm as announcing he had appendicitis.
I bit back a laugh at Hudson’s refusal to curse and call his boss an asshole like the man deserved.
“What did he do this time?” I understood little about Hudson’s accountant job beyond knowing it wasn’t Hudson’s fault when departments overspent their budgets. It was somebody else’s job to plan that shit in advance, but Hudson always got the blame when people didn’t do what they were supposed to. Then he had to scramble to fix the money troubles.
He ran through the latest bullshit from his boss as I stole another piece of his cheese. I’d buy him a new pack.
“How about I drive so you can drink and relax? It’s Friday night, and you don’t have to see that jerk for two more days. Live it up.” My stomach did a weird little flop when he aimed his lopsided smile at me.
If anything could help me shake off the lingering weirdness from the day, it was league night. The best way to kick off a low-key, uneventful weekend. Something Hudson and I desperately needed.
CHAPTER 2
HUDSON
An elated whoop cut through the din of crashing pins and conversation. Our opponents for the night had scored another strike. We’d already lost the first of the three games in our match against the Dewey Decimators librarian team. I was too competitive to give up another win, especially in the first match of the spring season.
I watched the pinsetter spit out Ollie’s neon-green ball that matched our godawful shirts and lifted my cup to take another drink of beer but found it empty. Leo moved into my line of sight and swapped the empty cup with a cool, fresh one before returning to his seat next to me. He’d been particularly attentive tonight, which I’d shamelessly soaked up, given my epically cruddy work week.
“Thanks, Leo.” Before he glanced away, I noticed a pinkish hue on his cheeks. He was the designated driver tonight, so I wasn’t sure why his face was flushed.
Between the beer, laughing at Leo and Ollie smack-talking other teams, and concentrating on my turns, I’d nearly pushed work out of my head. That space was occupied with obsessing over why I’d caught Leo looking at me more often than usual. It was unnerving, like he knew something I didn’t. I was probably overreacting.
“Don’t worry about your last turn. We’ll make it up.” He must’ve mistaken my pondering face for my frustrated one. He patted my leg. The ancient plastic seats had us packed in like sardines. It wasn’t unusual for Leo to stretch his arm across my chair since we were often pressed against each other, but this time his hand lingered for a few seconds longer than usual.
“I’ve got an idea. Next time you bowl, imagine you’re throwing your boss’s head at the pins.” Leo’s warm, grenadine-scented breath tickled my cheek. He must’ve chugged a Shirley Temple while getting me a beer.
I barked out a laugh. “You want me to picture my boss’s decapitated head rolling down the lane?”
“Couldn’t hurt.”
“Except for the fact his head wouldn’t roll evenly, which would distract me way too much.”
Leo hummed. “Fair point. Instead, visualize the pins as a bunch of tiny versions of him that you can squash with your mean hook.”
“I don’t have a mean hook.”
Leo’s dark eyes twinkled. “Oh yeah. I forgot.”
I bumped my shoulder against his and laughed.
