Page 7 of Pieces

We weave through the crowd, with me scanning for any sign of Liv and Hudson trailing just behind. I spot her by the merch table, chatting with a guy who looks both terrified and mesmerized.

“There,” I say, pointing.

Hudson follows my gaze and lets out a low laugh. “She’s got him cornered.”

Liv is mid-sentence, gesturing wildly, but she stops when she sees us approaching. She groans, throwing her head back dramatically. “Daphne! I told you I was fine.”

“I know.” I cross my arms as my shoulders tug up in a shrug. “But you were the one who brought up axe murderers, and now it’s all I can think about.”

Hudson chuckles. “She’s not wrong. You did plant that idea.”

Liv rolls her eyes. “Fine. I’ll text you every ten minutes, okay? But seriously, go hang out with your new friend. I’m trying to score a backstage pass here.”

I hesitate, glancing at the guy she’s talking to. I’m sure he’s the lead singer she wanted to see, since his hair is the same, but poor guy. He’s frozen in place, fixated on Liv, who waves me off again. “Go! Have fun. Use protection and let me live my life in peace!”

Heat creeps up my neck, pooling in my cheeks until I’m sure I’m glowing, and as I step back, Hudson is right there. I’m praying he isn’t looking at me because I’m heating up all over. “Okay. But text me. I mean it.”

Without thinking, or looking at him, I grab Hudson’s hand in mine, instantly feeling the size difference. “Wow, you have big hands.”Jesus, mouth meet brain, we need to work on your connection.Why did I just say that?

He chuckles behind me, low and deep. “You know what they say about big hands, right?”

I give him a raised eyebrow over my shoulder. “Enlighten me.”

“Big gloves.”

A loud bubble of laughter explodes from my mouth as we walk toward the exit. I like that he makes me laugh so easily. Not that he needs points, but that’s another tick in the plus column.

As soon as we step outside, the cool air soothes the heat lingering on my face and I relax.

“So, how do you feel about pancakes? I saw an all-night pancake house on the way over here. It’s not far from my hotel,” he asks as we walk.

I grin, my tummy growling at the idea. “Pancakes?”

“The sign said ‘the fluffiest pancakes in all of America.’”

“Who are we to argue with that?”

We reach the diner a few minutes later, its neon sign blinkingPancake Paradise: Open 24 Hoursin bright, retro letters. Hudson pulls open the door for me, the bell above it chiming as we step inside. The smell hits me immediately—syrup, butter, and something warm and comforting, like my mom’s cooking.

“Smells like heaven,” I say under my breath.

“It does,” he says, grinning as he gestures toward a booth by the window. “After you.”

I slide into the booth, the red leather squeaking as I move, and Hudson follows, sitting across from me. He leans back, looking completely at ease, and I think that just might be how he is. I noticed it at the concert and here too. He’s the kind of guy who isn’t fazed by much, and I might envy that a little. He reminds me of Finn, not in any other way other than their laid-back nature. I’m the neurotic overthinker of my brother and I, always striving for perfection.

A waitress appears almost immediately, her notepad in hand and her expression somewhere between happy and tired. “What can I get you two tonight?”

Hudson doesn’t even glance at the menu, keeping his eyes on me. “Two stacks of fluffy pancakes, the biggest you’ve got, and a side of bacon. You good with bacon?”

I nod eagerly. “And whipped cream,” I add. “Oh, and can my syrup be on the side.”

She notes our order. “Any drinks?”

“Chocolate milkshake,” we say at the same time.

Our voices overlap perfectly, and I blink at him as he freezes mid-sentence, his grin slowly spreading.

“Be still my heart,” he says, his eyes bright with amusement. “You love chocolate milkshakes?”

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