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“Just a bite to eat. No biggie, we need to plan anyway.” His pearly whites brighten his face.
Sighing, I nod and walk to an empty booth. Hudson slides across from me with ease. How can he act so comfortable around me? He’s probably moved on and sees me as someone from his past he can be friendly with.
“How have things been besides the studio?” He crosses his hands and leans back. His foot bumps against mine under the table, and I straighten in my seat, pulling them back.
“Good, great.” I nod, unsure what to say. The past few years have revolved around the studio. It’s not easy starting your own business, and it’s required hours of work and attention.
“That’s good.” He nods.
“Yeah,” I pick up the menu and read through the items to decide what I want today.
“I’m good, too.”
I glance up at him. “I didn’t ask.” I hold back a smile.
“I know, but I figured you were wondering.” He shrugs, resting his elbows on the table.
“You’re so sure about that?” I tilt my head.
“Of course. Everyone is curious about other people.”
“I couldn’t care less,” I shake my head. “No offense.”
“None taken. You could say worse things, and I’d deserve it.” Any trace of humor disappears, and he frowns.
“Yeah, but we’re stuck planning this trip, so I have to decide if I want to be miserable or take it with stride.” Fighting against him will only make this process more challenging. I can be polite.
“Makes sense.” He looks over my head with a pensive gaze. When his eyes meet mine again, they’re serious.
“You should know I hate what happened. I didn’t want things to turn out the way they did between us.”
“Hudson,” I shift awkwardly in my seat. “Let’s forget about it. No point.” I shake my head, masking my emotions as indifference.
“We shouldn’t, though. Don’t you hate it, too?” His eyes bore into mine like mesmerizing mossy orbs. I can’t look away, liking too much the regret I see reflected in them. I’m a masochist.
“You know I do, but it doesn’t matter. Not everyone is meant to be in your life forever. Let’s have lunch and plan the best bach party for our friends.” I wave at the waitress.
Hudson sighs and leans back, his face masked in determination. He can be a real annoyance when he’s persistent. We order lunch, and I pull out my phone to write notes.
“I need to call Astoria to check availability for their spa. We can have dinner as a group that night, like we mentioned. I’m guessing their restaurant is great. Hope mentioned they’ve eaten there before when they’ve gone on vacation.” I shift into business mode, needing the emotional space from our previous conversation.
“Yeah, their restaurant is amazing. They also have a bar in the resort where we can have drinks. I think we should go into town one day, too. It’ll be nice. Maybe for brunch.”
“Great.” I type in my notes app. “That’ll give us a break from skiing one of the days.”
“A break? We both know you won’t need the break,” he cracks a smile.
“I already told you I’ll be in charge of making sure everything runs smoothly while you all ski.”
“Yeah, I don’t think it’ll be good for anyone that you slide your feet into skis.” He full-blown laughs now.
“Hey!” I kick him under the table.
“It’s for your safety. You’ll make stumbling into the diner today seem graceful,” he continues to mock me.
“It’s not my fault those things are out to get me.” One time I tried skiing nearby when we were seniors in high school, and it ended up with a trip to the ER and a sprained ankle. Thankfully, I didn’t break anything or get stabbed with those murder devices, but for a dancer, any injury is a prison sentence.
“They’re inanimate objects. I would’ve thought that as a dancer, you’d have better stability and grace to ski. I was so disappointed,” he shakes his head with his lips pressed into a firm line.
