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Charlie
Tonight, Hudson has invited me out to a concert on the beach. I would be nervous, but he keeps making it very clear we’re only friends. I hate how the reminder hurts. Like a sharp embarrassing pain in my chest that squeezes like my father’s hands around my throat. Last night I had a nightmare he was back and walked into a room full of people excited to hear my music. I was on stage and he comes up and takes the microphone, pulls me up by my arm, and tells the audience not to waste their time or money on someone so sorry and pathetic. I woke in tears and spent the morning pouring my heartache into songs that will never be heard by anyone but me.
To shake myself out of my pity party, I remember his untimely end, and as morbid as it might be, I smile for the first time all day. I’m so thankful for the actions that transpired to finally end his torment and abuse. Then I shower off all the ugly and slip into a pair of cute cut-off shorts I’m always too shy to wear, top it with an off-the-shoulder black t-shirt, and rock my glasses instead of contacts. With my chin held high, I set out to find Hudson, who I again catch at the door.
“You ready?”
“Absolutely. Are we walking or riding?”
“I Google-mapped the distance, and it’s possible to walk if you want and we can cab it back.”
“Sounds great.” I lock my door and follow him out. It’s a pretty long walk, but we use the time well. He tells me all the crazy things the boys have gotten themselves into since they’ve been in San Diego, and I tell him a few cute Harmony stories from the day before.
We get to the beach and I notice for the first time the blanket tucked under his arm. It’s still early enough that we get a great spot in the sand and sit. He runs off for tacos and a couple beers, and a preshow starts. The group is really good. I note their name for Marcus in a text and send it out with a clip of their song I recorded on my phone. We eat, drink, and chat, my heart skipping a beat when his hand runs over my fingers inside the taco bag, and I have to talk myself down. It gets worse when he tells me how good I look today and how he loves my shorts and sure wishes I would wear them more often. Part of me wants to scream at him to stop saying things like that; he has no right to flirt with me, and the other stronger side is begging him to keep going, tell me more, give me more. I fight myself for an insane amount of time, and soon the sun starts to set, and I welcome the distraction of the main event.
We run up to be closer to the stage, and a crowd soon forms around us. Hudson stays close and dare I say protective.
“If this turns into a mosh pit, I’m throwing you over my shoulder and bolting the fuck out of here. Just be warned,” he says as he pushes a guy back. Hudson is built, tall, tattooed, and intimidating so the crowd doesn’t push back. He still stays close by my side, and my arm rubs against his colorful bicep on several occasions. Soon I just start doing it on purpose because I secretly long to feel his skin on mine, and I don’t think he notices anyway—that or he doesn’t mind.
The band starts up and every other sound is drowned out. We start to jump to the beat and yell the lyrics and still nothing is heard but the sounds of the guitar, bass, and drums, the beautiful lyrics from the singer, and the crowd is going wild.
We bounce around until we’re hot and out of breath and soon a slow mellow song starts to play and my body slows down to sway to the rhythm. When I look over to Hudson, he’s staring at me.
“What is it?”
He’s giving me a strange look, and my insincerities make me pat my hair down and lick my teeth in case there’s leftover taco or something.
He pulls my hands down from my hair and says something, but I can’t hear him. I raise my shoulders and shake my head, and then he captures my face and close to my lips, he says, “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” I say breathy and hope he doesn’t realize.
“For this.”
Then his mouth is on mine in a fire-hot kiss. Surrounded by a concert of people, I forget everything and kiss him back. His lips aren’t soft but hard as his tongue begs for entrance. I happily open and am rewarded by a tongue that explores my mouth as I explore his. I feel like I’m floating and pull him closer just to be touching more of him, to get more of an anchor to the one person I find myself wanting more than my next breath. We make out right there for all to see and forget all about him leaving, all about how I’m just a dorky girl he’ll soon forget when he’s off blowing the minds of fans around the world. If I can just have this moment, I don’t care about the next.
He breaks the kiss and places his forehead on mine. “I’m so sorry. I’m finding it harder and harder to resist you.”
I smile big and beg the question “So why bother?”
“I want you, Charlotte; I do, but I can’t have you. I would never keep you.” He looks so genuine and boyish when he says it that it almost takes away from the sting of those last few words.
“Then just have me while you can. I’m a big girl and know exactly when you’ll be leaving.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“We’ve done it before and still managed to be friends, so why not now? Whatever we can have for however long we have it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” And the scary thing was I almost convinced myself I wasn’t lying. “Take me home, Hudson.”
