Page 70 of All the Ugly Things

Birthday boy slurred his order, earning a shove from the guy next to him. “Damn, Matt. Stop being such a lightweight or you won’t even make it to the main event.”

“I’m not a lightweight,” he slurred back. “Just happy.” He clapped twice and I smirked.

Yeah. These guys were idiots, but harmless.

“You know,” he said, head dropping forward and glazed over eyes meeting mine. “The song. If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands.”

His entire sentence came out in one long word.

“I know it.” My lips fought against a smile. These guys were the kind of guys I grew up with. Same kind of boys even if they weren’t as polished, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t been drinking their weight in keg beer since the first of one of their older siblings started buying it for them when they were barely teenagers.

The guy who thanked me earlier handed the menus to me. “Sorry. He’ll shut up once he gets his food.”

“I’ll make sure Chaz hurries then.” I slid the menus into my arms. “But he wouldn’t be the first customer I had to break out in a song and dance, either.”

A round of laughter burst from all of them, making the rest of the volume in the diner rise along with them.

Seemed everyone was in a great mood tonight, and mine was still up there as long as the drunken table didn’t spill their drinks or leave a huge mess.

Being drunk didn’t excuse a lack of manners.

After I put in their order, I made my rounds through the rest of the tables and rang up Johnny’s bill.

Once done, I was back behind the counter, trying to ignore the way my stomach curled when I was in close proximity to Hudson.

“Are you going to stay here all night again?”

“You want me to?”

“No. Your company is obnoxious.”

“Because I’m quiet?” His shoulders shook when he laughed. “We were interrupted before. You getting settled in the apartment?”

“It’s nicer than anything I imagined I could have had again,” I admitted, and watched that entertained smile on Hudson’s face fall away. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what.”

“Look at me like you feel sorry for me every time you’re reminded I’ve had a shit life. It makes me uneasy.”

He rolled his lips together. “I’ll work on it,” he said, sighing. “Hard not to care, though.”

“Why?” I asked, before I could stop myself. This was my stumbling block. Why did they careso much? Especially about me.

Hudson smirked. That stupid smirk. I could never quite decide if I wanted to smack it away with my hand or melt it away with my mouth.

He was growing on me, like a forbidden fruit I had no business reaching for but couldn’t stop wistfully admiring. That was dangerous.

“Order up!” Chaz shouted through the small cook’s window.

“I need to get that.” Perfect timing. I trayed the meals—burgers and fries for the table of birthday drunks—and grabbed an extra bottle of ketchup. Once delivered and they were taken care of, drinks refreshed, and the birthday boy happily humming his song to himself while his friends laughed at him, Hudson was no longer smiling when I returned to the counter.

In fact, he was head bent on his phone, thumbs wildly tapping on it, so I left him to it and rolled clean silverware, sliding them into the paper napkin wraps.

“I can help with that,” Hudson offered.

“I’ve got it.”

“Don’t have anything else to do either,” he said, and grabbed a pile of napkins.

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