Page 16 of Pieces

Sitting up, the ache sharpens, and I rake a hand through my hair, catching sight of something propped on the pillow beside me. A folded piece of paper, edges slightly crumpled, with my name written on the front.

My stomach twists as I reach for it, unfolding it carefully.

Hudson,Didn’t want to wake you—you looked too peaceful.Last night was…something else. I’ll be smiling about it for a long time.Maybe I’ll see you around.- D

I read the note twice, her words lingering in the air like a fading echo. “Fuck, I should’ve gotten her number,” I murmur to myself, folding the paper and placing it on the nightstand.

Dragging myself out of bed, I sit on the edge and rub a hand over my face. As I pull my shirt over my head, the faint scent of her perfume lingers, completely intoxicating. My throat tightens, and I grip the hem, tempted to breathe her in one last time.

Once dressed and packed, I check out with barely a glance from the front desk clerk. Outside, the morning chill bites as I reach my car. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I pause before starting the engine. Fuck, I didn’t want her to disappear in the night. I wanted to see her again. Last night was…incredible.

The soft sweetness of lavender lingers on my shirt the entire way, stirring flashes of last night, her laugh, the way she fit against me, the way she’d looked up at me with those eyes that felt like they saw too much. I could so easily get lost in them.

I don’t know her last name, don’t know if I’ll ever see her again, but one thing I know is…my superpowers are officially gone, and I don’t even care.

***

By the time I pull into my dorm parking lot, the disappointment from finding Daphne gone has lessened, but only slightly, making way for contentment from last night. I feel good, really fucking good. Last night was amazing and not one I’ll forget for a while. Do I wish I could have a repeat with her? Absolutely. But that can’t happen, so I’m taking it for what it was, a great night with an amazing girl.

My phone buzzes in my pocket as I’m walking. I almost let it go to voicemail, but when I see it’s my sister, I know she won’t stop until I answer. The kid’s relentless.

“Hey, squirt,” I say, already smiling.

“Don’t call me that,” she snaps, her voice sharp but playful. “I’m fourteen, not four. Anyway, Mom wants to know if you’re coming home for Thanksgiving. She’s planning to make enough pie to feed a football team.”

I laugh. That’s Mom. “Thanksgiving is still weeks away.”

“And? Preparation is key here, big brother.”

I laugh. “Yeah, tell her I’m in. And no, I’m not bringing anyone.”

“Not even Jay?” she asks. “Mom says you need someone to keep you from giving her dates the third degree. Oh, and FYI, her last one didn’t run off because of her. He ran off because you grilled him.”

I snort, shaking my head. “Jay’s busy this year. Also, what was I supposed to do? The guy said he was ‘in between jobs.’ That’s code for ‘I sit in sweatpants playing video games all day.’”

“But Mom deserves someone nice, Huds. She’s awesome.”

“She is,” I agree, softening at the thought. “That’s why she’s not ending up with some guy who calls Red Bull a personality trait.”

“Whatever,” she sighs, but I can hear the smile in her voice. “Just promise me you’ll try to be nice if she finds someone new, okay?”

The fact she keeps talking about me behaving around a new guy piques my interest. “Put Mom on the phone, please.”

“Oh, Mom’s too busy for you. She’s currently with her favorite child,” Rory says with far too much sass for a fourteen-year-old.

“Well, that can’t be true, because I’m not home with her,” I shoot back.

“Not funny, loser,” she whines, then I hear a rustling noise and her shouting, “Mom, Hudson’s delusional again. You better come talk to him.”

I’ll make her pay for that when I see her next. I’ll eat all her favorite cereal and leave the box in the cupboard. She hates that.

More rustling, and then my mom’s voice comes on the line. “There’s my favorite boy. How are you doing? It’s been too long since I’ve hugged you.”

“Ha,” I shout down the phone. “I hope Rory heard that. IknewI was your favorite.”

Mom chuckles. “You’re my favorite boy, and she’s my favorite girl.”

“Ha!” I hear Rory cackling in the background.

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