Unknown Number:So that’s a no on saving the number?
Molly:Hard pass.
Unknown Number:Unreal.
Molly:Go read your article again, Hockey God. Maybe it’ll comfort you.
Unknown Number:Don’t worry. I’ll send you more tomorrow. Can’t let you forget me.
42
Molly
Who is this?sent an attachment.
[Link: Hudson Wilde: Best Right Wing of the Century.]
Who is this?:Your daily dose <3
Molly:[Screenshot of their messages with the name “Who is this?” circled in red.]
Who is this?:Unreal.
43
Molly
I stir my coffee,my gaze trained on the swirling cream as if it holds the answers to the question, but really, I can’t stop thinking about the kiss from two nights ago.
Even now, as Hudson sits diagonally across the table from me, I feel my cheeks warm. His presence is larger than life and impossible to ignore.
The air between us feels like it’s charged with electricity, but ironically, neither of us has said anything to each other.
Well, he made a “Hudson” joke when I walked in, and I grunted in response. And earlier, when he managed to pull me aside, he tried to convince me to change his name on my phone from “Who is this?”
Our friends are eating the tension up. Especially with how awkward we are.
That is annoying because there’s currently a huge elephant in the room with us, which is the memory of a crazy-ass, impulsive kiss that defied all logic. One I can’t forget.
Cassidy taps her fingers on the diner’s sticky table. “What’s up with you this morning, Molly?”
I tilt my head in her direction and find that she’s staring intently at me, nose scrunched. “Just tired.”
I force myself to smile, lifting my coffee to take a sip. The moment I do, I want to curse my stupidity, because, lord, it’s hot.
“Tired of losing the bet?” Mason quips, smirking over his Bloody Mary.
My stomach drops.
What does he mean by that?
Does he know about Hudson and me?
Maybe hedidsee us together after the game.
No.
That doesn’t make any sense. Losing the bet means I’ve been mean to Hudson, so kissing him is the opposite, right?