"I think you're full of shit."
Hudson blinked. "Whoa. Okay. Why don't you tell me how you really feel?"
"I'm just saying. Stop with all the excuses and live a little." She stood, grabbing her keys off the counter. "I've got a double shift. Try not to break anything while I'm gone."
She was out the door before Hudson could respond.
A week later, as if Taylor had cosmically willed it into being with some kind of sister voodoo, Hudson met Marcus at a coffee shop in Park Slope.
Hudson had been going stir-crazy in Taylor's apartment, so he'd started taking walks despite his ribs still aching with every breath. The coffee shop was small and way too crowded. It was the kind of place where you had to waitfifteenminutes for a latte while everyone hammered away on their laptop pretending to write the next great American novel. Hudson hated everything about the place, which was probably why he kept going back. Some kind of penance for being useless.
He was waiting for his order when someone bumped into him from behind.
"Shit—sorry—" The guy turned, eyes widening when he saw Hudson's cast. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Hudson said automatically. That about covered it right now.
"You sure? I didn't hurt you?"
"I'm okay. Really."
The guy had dark skin, short locs, and a face that probably got him carded on a regular basis even though he had to be pushing thirty. He was wearing a Columbia hoodie and hauling a messenger bag straining at the shoulder strap.
"I'm Marcus," he said, offering his hand, then immediately pulled it back when he realized Hudson's good hand was holding his coffee. "Right. Sorry. I'm an idiot."
Hudson laughed. An actual laugh that pulled at his ribs, but he didn’t care. "Hudson. And you're not an idiot."
"Debatable." Marcus gestured at the cast. "What happened?"
"Helicopter crash."
Marcus laughed like Hudson was joking, then his face did a double-take when he realized he wasn’t. "Seriously?"
"Occupational hazard."
"You're a pilot?"
"Yeah. Army."
"That's—wow. Really cool. Besides the crash part obviously." Marcus paused, tilting his head like he was trying to figure Hudson out. “Wait, so you casually crash helicopters and walk it off?”
“Well no.” Hudson gestured to his cast. “I’m on medical leave.”
“For how long?”
“Six weeks in total. I’m two weeks in.”
“So you’ve got… four more weeks in New York?”
“About that, yeah.” Heat crept up Hudson’s neck as Marcus’s brown eyes studied him.
“This must be my lucky day.”
“How so?”
“Because…” Marcus’s smile was pure trouble. “I really want to hear more about that helicopter crash.”
Hudson’s face turned full-blown crimson, which was fucking ridiculous because he was almost thirty and shouldn’t be blushing like a teenager. “You asking me out?”
