“Nothing.” The corner of her mouth pulled up. “Just… can’t believe I ever thought you were straight.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m just saying, those hips?—”
“Taylor. I swear to god.”
She bent over laughing.
Someone slid into the space behind him—close, unhurried,moving to the same beat. Hands settled on Hudson’s hips.
His eyes closed. The song was still going, the line about distance and nearness, andfor a second the hands were different. More certain. The kind that knew exactly where to?—
He opened his eyes.
Taylor studied him from across the floor with an expression that wasn’t teasing anymore.
Hudson stepped forward, breaking the contact, not turning around. Whoever it was, he didn’t matter.
Taylor appeared at his elbow, fanning herself dramatically. “Come on. I need a drink.”
They slid back into the booth fifteen minutes later clutching two beers.
Hudson scanned the room more out of habit than interest. A guy near the bar caught his eye and smiled.
"Oh my god," Taylor said, following his gaze. "He's cute. Go talk to him."
"No way."
"Hudson—"
"I'm not walking up to some random guy."
"That's literally the entire point of being here."
“The point of being here is to figure out if I'm attracted to men. I can do that from this booth."
"That's not how this works."
"That's exactly how this works. I look. I assess. I make observations."
Taylor rolled her eyes. "You sound like you're on a mission."
"Everything's a mission if you think about it hard enough."
"Oh my god, you're hopeless." Taylor grabbed her now empty beer and stood. "Fine. I'll go get us another roundand you can sit here observing like a creep. But if someone comes over to talk to you, you're not allowed to run away."
"I have never once run away from anything in my life.”
Taylor left, shaking her head, and Hudson was alone with his beer and the uncomfortable awareness that several guys in his general vicinity were studying him.
The guy who'd smiled at Hudson earlier leaned against the bar, watching. He was tall, maybe six-one, dark hair styled in a way that probably required serious effort, wearing a button-down with the sleeves rolled up to show off his forearms. Attractive, but a little too self-assured. Not Hudson's type.
Well, Hudson wasn't sure he had a type when it came to men. He had a type when it came to women—smart, funny, able to put up with his shit. But men? The only reference point he had was Shaw, who was?—
Nope. Not going there.
The guy continued to eye him. Hudson focused on his beer as if it was the most interesting thing in the room.
