Page 47 of Pieces

Daphne

“Holdthefreakingphone,”Liv yelps through the speaker. “He was rightthere?He heard you tell Finn? Shit, Daph.”

I nod, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I didn’t want to get up for my Saturday running class today. After last night, I needed sleep. “Everything.”

Although, I have no idea if he’s conveniently forgotten the part about me being a virgin or if he didn’t want to bring it up while I was practically crying into his lap, confessing that I’m carrying his baby. Or there might be a chance he blacked out after the pregnant part and heard nothing else.

“If there was ever a time where I thought you were god’s favorite, it isn’t last night. He saw an opportunity and ran with it.” Liv snorts.

“Please, I’ve never been god’s favorite. Even less so now, with the whole teenage pregnancy and out of wedlock,” I joke, but it’s really something that my Grandma Goose would’ve clutched her pearls over and prayed in Sunday service for me. God rest her sassy soul.

The echo of Liv’s car filters through the speaker. “Driving is boring, you know,” she says changing the subject. She promised she’d come to my first doctor’s appointment with me, and even when I insisted I’d be fine alone, she wouldn’t take no for an answer, so she’s driving all the way here. I’m not gonna cry. Okay, maybe I will, because I don’t know what I’d do without her. Jeez, these hormones are wild. “I should’ve taken a bus. That way, I could at least read or pretend to study.”

“I told you I’d be okay.”

“And I told you there’s no way you’re doing this by yourself.”

“I’m—”

Knock knock.

The sound startles me, and I freeze mid-sentence. “Uh, hang on,” I say to Liv, placing the phone in my holder on my bedside table, moving toward the door. Who would be knocking this early? I press my eye to the peephole, and my breath catches. Hudson. Standing there, holding something.

What is he doing here? “Oh my god, Liv. It’s Hudson,” I whisper-shout.

“What? I can’t hear you,” she shouts, unaware that I’m trying to be quiet.

“Shhhh,” I hiss, my palms sweating. “Don’t say a thing.”

I crack the door open, peeking out cautiously. “Hudson? What’s going on?”

“Hey.” Clearing his throat, his free hand rubs the back of his neck. I’ve noticed he does that a lot around me. “Uh, I brought you something.”

He lifts two cups in a holder, his finger flexing around the handle.

I blink, staring at the cups. “What? Why?”

One of his broad shoulders raises. “I just thought… You know what, can I…come in?” he asks as he scans the hallway.

I hesitate, my brain scrambling to catch up. The sight of him standing here at all is throwing me. “Okay,” I say finally, opening the door wider. “Come in.”

He steps inside, and that’s when I realize I’m in nothing but my oversized sleep shirt. Bare legs. No bra. A surge of heat rushes to my face, and my arms instinctively wrap around myself. Before I can move, Hudson’s gaze flickers downward and then immediately back up. His jaw tightens, and he blinks hard, fixing his eyes firmly on the floor.

“Uh, sorry,” he mumbles. “Didn’t mean to, um, just barge in when you’re, uh, sleeping.”

I dart to the chair where my long cardigan is, grabbing it and slipping it on as casually as I can manage. My pulse is racing, and I can feel the heat in my cheeks spreading to my ears.

“No, it’s fine,” I say quickly, pulling the fabric tight around me. “I just wasn’t expecting anyone.”

As he risks a glance at me, his face is a little pink. “Yeah, I probably should’ve texted or something.” He shifts the cups in his hands. “Which reminds me, I need your number, if that’s okay.”

“You’re fine, really,” I say again, softer this time, though my cheeks are still burning. I mean, the guy has seen me a lot less dressed, so I’m not sure why we’re both embarrassed, but there we go, both blushing like rosy tomatoes. “Sure, do you have your phone? I can put it in now.”

Hudson nods, his lips pressing together, holding out one cup. I take it while he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone. Once I’ve typed in my number, I send a text to myself, then pass it back.

“It’s hot milk, by the way,” he begins, gesturing to the takeout cup in my hand. “I, uh, wasn’t sure if you were still drinking caffeine or not, or if you even like coffee, but I read last night that it’s, like, kind of a gray area, you know? Some people say it’s fine in moderation, but then others are all ‘no, don’t risk it,’ and I didn’t want to risk it, so… Just to be safe.”

I stare at him, completely taken aback because he’s googling things about pregnancy? I haven’t googled anything… Should I? My fingers wrap around the warm cup. “Hot milk,” I repeat.

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