Hudson carrying me up to bed.
Hudson taking off my dress.
Asking him to kiss me.
Come on, Miller. You don’t have to beg.
I blink my eyes a few times, refocusing on Emma. She obviously doesn’t know about what happened. Here she is, asking how I’m doing, thinking about me, considering me.And had the opportunity presented itself, I might have fucked her boyfriend. Regret and remorse tangle together in my gut.
“I’m so sorry, you’ll have to excuse me.” I turn around and race behind the counter. Poppy has disappeared into the back room, but she won’t care that I’m helping myself to the bathroom key.
Emma says something about seeing me again, and I nod and smile on my way past her to the restroom.
Fumbling with the key, I finally unlock the door and throw myself towards the toilet, letting the door slam shut behind me. I empty my stomach of whatever mix of sangria, tequila, and beer is left in there until I’m retching on nothing.
Once I’m confident there is nothing left in my stomach to expel, I sit on the cool tile and lean against the wall, replaying the events of last night. Now, other moments from the party are coming back to me, too, and I’m slotting them into the timeline, trying to make sense of it all.
The bet. Oh God. He wagered a date with me. He wagered a date with mewhilehe’s seeing Emma. That’s why it came back—seeing her again didn’t make me nauseous because of her sickly-sweet demeanour, although it played a part. It was the sticky, tarry feeling of guilt that had me running for the toilet. Because I knew about Emma, too, and I still agreed to it. I still brought Hudson home with me. He didn’t want to kiss me. I practically begged, and he wouldn’t kiss me.
I get up from the bathroom floor and lean over the sink to splash cold water on my face before rinsing out my mouth,letting the shock of the realization hit me with the reality of what I have to do.
Hudson and I? We’re having it out today. I’m going to tell him how I felt about him leaving, how he never once considered my feelings in our breakup, how he’s repeating the same selfish patterns, only thinking about himself and what he wants when it comes to women. As much as Emma is not my cup of tea, she’s lovely and she doesn’t deserve this treatment.
Hudson is being an asshat and I’m going to tell him as much.
I march out of the bathroom and find Emma gone, and Poppy behind the counter with a wincing expression on her face.
“Still paying for last night?” she asks.
“In more ways than one,” I grumble, earning a soft chuckle and a non-judgmental look of sympathy from my best friend. “Can you make me your greasiest, carby-est breakfast wrap to-go, please? And a coffee.”
“You seem like you’re on a mission this morning,” she says while plucking a sausage and egg wrap from the display case and throwing it into the panini press to warm it.
“Just doing what I should have done ten years ago.”
“Are you sure you want to get into this now?” Poppy starts on my coffee.
“I don’t have a choice. I agreed to go out with Hudson. Like, on a date,” I say. Poppy stares at me blankly. “He … stayed over last night.” I whisper that part, almost mouthing it so no one overhears.
“Oh my God. Did you …?”
“No. No, nothing like that. At least not that I can remember. Still, seeing Emma this morning … I feel like a piece of shit.” I shake my head, and Poppy nods in solemn understanding.
“It’s not your fault, Wren. Hudson played a part in it, too.”
“He’s such a fucking asshole. I should have known better.” Anger sizzles under my skin. Mostly at Hudson, but also at myself.
“Honestly, don’t beat yourself up.” Poppy turns, lifting the warmed wrap with a pair of tongs and sliding it into a paper bag that she hands me over the counter. “It could have happened to anyone. I bet being at the school with all those memories didn’t help. Not to mention the amount of alcohol you both consumed. You slipped into your old ways, and that’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” I pick up my coffee and back out of the café. “Slipping into old ways is going to get people hurt, like it did the last time.”
“Call me later and let me know how it goes,” Poppy says, but she doesn’t have to tell me. She’s always the first person I call.
I step outside into the sunlight, and it doesn’t make my head pound the way it did earlier. Either the vomit and getting rid of the remnants of alcohol, or my new red-hot rage, is burning up my hangover, but I feel slightly better.
I feel like raising hell.
Hudson isn’tat his apartment when I get there. Instead, Jett answers the door in his pajama bottoms and informs me that Hudson hit the gym right after he finished up at the fire hall. He then follows it up with some suggestive remark about how he could ‘keep me entertained’ in the meantime, and I whirl around, flashing him a middle finger over my shoulder as I walk down the hallway towards the staircase.
