Page 9 of Pieces

Chapter five

Hudson

I’mhavingthebesttime. And I’m not just saying that because I’ve got pancakes in front of me—though pancakes can fix almost anything, and these bad boys rival even my mom’s. It’s the fact that I saw Gracie Abrams tonight. And now I’m here, across the table from a beautiful girl, who laughs at my jokes and is so fun to be around.

I’m seriously on a winning streak.

I’m halfway through a bite of the most amazing pancake when I notice a little smudge of syrup at the corner of her mouth.

“You’ve got syrup,” I tell her, gesturing vaguely to the corner of my own mouth.

She pauses, mid-sentence, her eyebrows drawing together. “Where?” Her tongue darts out instinctively, trying to find where I mean, and I almost forget to breathe.

“Here.” Leaning forward, I swipe my thumb quickly under the corner of her lip, and without a second thought, I lick it. It’s over in a second, but her eyes widen in surprise.

“Oh,” she breathes, blinking like she’s trying to process it. Her hand lifts instinctively to touch the spot, cheeks turning pink. She exhales a laugh as her hand drops to her lap. “Great. Love that for me.” Her voice is light, but her cheeks are still pink, and I catch the smallest hint of a smile as she picks up her fork again.

I’m grinning like an idiot because I like that she’s embarrassed or feeling shy. She doesn’t hide her emotions, and it’s endearing.

I want to kiss her. I’ve wanted to kiss her from the moment I laid eyes on her at the concert. I want to lean over this table and close the space between us and feel her soft, full lips on mine.

“You’re staring. Do I have more syrup on my face?”

“No, I just like staring at you,” I reply simply, leaning back in my chair with a sheepish grin.

She looks down with a smile before taking the last bite of her pancakes, then sets her fork on the table with a faint clink. “So, tell me your truths and a lie. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

I lean back slightly, tapping my fingers against the table as I think. “Okay, I have a fourteen-year-old sister,” I say, watching her expression carefully for any reaction. “I once got detention for starting a food fight in middle school.” I pause for dramatic effect, the corner of my mouth curving into a playful smirk. “And…I’ve never been out of the country.”

She studies me, and I find myself enjoying looking at her again despite hardly taking my eyes off her. She’s all kinds of stunning with her long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and cute-as-fuck smile. “I think it’s entirely possible you have a younger sister.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The way you said she’s fourteen and your voice changed. You love her.”

“Yeah, I can’t deny that. Rory is the best, even if she gives me more shit than my mom.”

When she smiles, my heart races in my chest.

“So, you have a younger sister. Do I believe that you’re a troublemaker that starts food fights or that you haven’t left America?”

Resting my chin on my hand, I watch her mind tick over.

“I think,” she begins, licking her lips, making my blood run hotter. “You are a troublemaker. So the lie is that you’ve never left the country.”

I gasp in mock shock. “You think I like trouble? Man, you sound like my best friend.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I absolutely will. It was Jeremy Peterson in middle school who started the fight, so I didn’t get detention. And I’ve been to Canada once.”

She raises an eyebrow. “So you had nothing to do with the food fight at all? Totally innocent?”

I grin. “Jeremy definitely threw the first lot of mashed potatoes. It would be rude not to retaliate, though.” As I wink, she laughs, and damn that sound. I want to hear it again and again. “You’re really fucking beautiful, you know.”

My favorite color graces her cheeks once more, the same pink as her shirt. It looks really good on her. “Thanks.”

The waitress clears our empty plates, and suddenly I’m super aware that this could come to an end. I really don’t want it to, but I also know she came here with her friend, and I’m currently occupying all her time.

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