Page 43 of The Ex Project
Before I can ask him to clarify, he glances around the gym, and then lowers his gaze back to me, eyes flicking between mine and my mouth. “This isn’t how I want to have this conversation. There are things I want to tell you. Things Ineedto tell you. But not here. Let me take you out and I’ll explain.”
This is all too much. I came here to get answers, but instead, I’m leaving with more questions. Questions I doubt I’ll be able to process today with the one brain cell I have that isn’t pickled in tequila.
I exhale a slow breath through pursed lips and consider my options. Hudson and Emma are over. She’s not hurt. There’s no harm in going out with him. And letting him take me on this date might allow me to figure out this mess of feelings I’m having with a clear head.
“Okay.” I give in. “When is this date happening?” Hudson looks back up at me, and where his eyes were once filled with agony, now they sparkle with something else … hope.
“Are you free tomorrow?”
I nod quickly before I can take any of this back.
“Great. Tomorrow, then.” A hint of a smile plays on hislips as he backs away from me. “I’ll send you the details later.”
I leave the gym and head home, a flurry of emotions whirling around, making me feel anxious and giddy all at the same time. But I’m also exhausted. All I want to do is curl up on the couch with some takeout and rot in front of the TV for the rest of the afternoon. I’ve done enough thinking for one day.
When I get home, I close the front door behind me and lean against it, the cool air inside a reprieve from the summer sun now at its peak. I heave a sigh. There’s still one thought I haven’t been able to get rid of since my memories from last night came crashing down in one swift, destructive wave.
The words Hudson muttered right before I drifted off to sleep last night.
Every ounce of love I’ve been saving for you.
They’ve been replaying on a loop, like a record skipping and repeating the same thing over and over again. I’ve been trying to make sense of it all. Hudson and I are enemies, rivals, adversaries. We both want the same thing and only one of us can have it. But the way he kissed me … it felt like none of that has ever mattered to him.
I need some ibuprofen.
Crawling upstairs, I get changed back into my PJs, and because I’m too tired to cook, I order some takeout Chinese food for delivery. Then, I park myself on the couch to wait for it. I spend the rest of the afternoon there, watching reruns of my favourite sitcom reruns. They’re mindless, because I’ve seen them all a million times and for a few hours, I can focus on someone else’s drama other than my own.
It’s peaceful.
Until my phone dings, the sound muffled by the cushions. I dig around for it and pull it out of the crack in the couch, and as promised, there’s an e-mail from Hudson.
Subject:How To Prepare for Your Date with Hudson Landry
I ignore the sharp twinge behind my ribs at the fact that he’s reverted to e-mailing again.
But as soon as I open it, I understand why. There’s a link that takes me to a website where he’s put together an interactive checklist.
What to Bring on Your Date:
Comfortable shoes (all terrain)
Bug repellent
A water bottle
Sunscreen
A bathing suit
A toothbrush
Be ready by ten o’clock sharp.
What kind of date is this? I scan the list again and check the e-mail one more time to make sure I’m not missing something. Is it an overnight thing? Whatever it is, I didn’t agree to it. I thought we’d have a nice dinner somewhere; maybe he would take me into the city to a restaurant that’s more my speed. Clearly not, if I’m meant to wearcomfortable shoes. Idon’t even think I own all-terrain shoes, except my gym runners. But those are for indoor use only.
I haul myself off the couch and back upstairs. I guess I’m going for another shopping trip in my mother’s closet. After a little rummaging, I manage to find a pair of Blundstones that look like she’s probably going to return them. They’re still in the box, brand new, and we happen to be the same size. I can pay her for them later, but it saves me the trouble of trying to find comfortable footwear myself.
Score.
