by Erin Noelle
Still perched in Crew’s lap when she walked in, secretly enjoying the lust-filled expressions that crossed his face each time I accidentally moved against his crotch, I attempted to jump up and sit elsewhere, but he held me snug up against him. He either wasn’t worried about what his mom thought of our seating arrangement, or he was more concerned about what she’d think of his erection fighting to break free from his zipper.
I know my parents wouldn’t be concerned at all about us being cuddled up with each other in the chair; in fact, they’d most likely encourage it, considering they’ve never seen me engage in PDA with anyone, but I didn’t know Mary that well, and I didn’t want her to think of me as some easy little whore. And though she did a double-take when she saw us together, instead of appearing bothered, she seemed almost happy, and then asked me to join them on their furniture shopping adventure.
“Hudson, everything okay?” Crew’s voice invades my daydream, forcing me to tear my attention from the familiar mountainous scenery coasting by outside the window. He rests his hand above my knee and skims his thumb back and forth over the denim.
“Yeah, sorry.” I jiggle my head around to wake myself up. “I was just wondering what Mel’s cooking for dinner. I’m getting hungry.”
Curling his mouth up in a wicked grin, his eyes drop to my legs then travel up the length of my body until they settle back on my face. “Me too,” he mouths, his intentions clear he’s not talking about food.
Heat pools in my core as I suck in a ragged breath, my body ignoring the part of my brain screaming that there are two other people in the car, only a few feet in front of us. I’ve never reacted like this to anyone before, and notwithstanding my lack of dating history or virgin status, I’ve flirted and made out with guys in the past. I even let Tommy Carmody kiss on my boobs and show me his dick at a few parties during my senior year, but never have I felt like this.
He doesn’t remove his hand from my thigh for the duration of the trip, which is thankfully only a few miles down the highway, but he doesn’t taunt me any more either. Gauging the bulge in his pants, he’s dealing with similar willpower issues, and though I’d love to torment him a little—maybe an unintentional brush of my hand over his zipper—I refrain, realizing it would be just as torturous to me as it is to him. Not to mention, his mom is in the front seat for chrissakes!
The moment the car pulls to a complete stop, I throw the door open and scramble outside, escaping the rapidly growing sexual tension threatening to suffocate me. Whipping arctic winds slap me across the face instantly, a welcome change to the stifling heat I was just trapped in, and provide the reality check I’m in desperate need of.
“Wow, the temperatures plummeted drastically just in the time we left the store until now,” Mary remarks as she climbs out from behind the steering wheel, the falling flurries now full-fledged flakes, gaining agreeable nods from both of her sons.
Through the snow quickly collecting on the ground, I begin to slowly backpedal toward my house, in desperate need of a little time by myself to catch my snap. A few minutes ago, I was all but ready to let Crew do whatever he damn well pleased to me in the backseat of a car that his mom was driving. Red flag, Hudson. You’re spinning out of control faster than Ricky Bobby on the track at Talladega.
“Thanks for including me on your excursion, Mary,” I state politely, my manners belatedly kicking in. “I’m gonna clean up a little before dinner. See you guys in about an hour.”
“See you soon, Hudson. Thanks for coming with us!” she replies with a big smile and a short wave, oblivious to my uneasiness as she scampers out of the cold.
“Let your sister know I’m coming for her!” Caleb shouts, darting toward the heated shelter of their cabin.
I don’t mean to—I don’t want to—but my gaze is locked on Crew before I can stop myself, my greedy eyes roaming the length of his tall, strong body as he stands next to the car with his hands shoved in his pockets. There’s a good twenty feet between us, but I can see the confusion stamped across face.
“You coming for me later too?” I throw the words out good-naturedly, playing off Caleb’s last words in an attempt to let him know I’m not upset with him, but I don’t realize the suggestiveness of them until it’s too late.
“Depends if that’s what you want,” he drawls seductively, cocking an inquisitive eyebrow at me after the cabin door shuts.
“And if I said it wasn’t?” I smirk back.
Releasing a husky laugh, he shakes his head. “I’d say you’re a terrible liar.”
“We’ll see,” I retort, mad at myself for being unable to think of anything witty to say.
I spin around on my heel, stomping away from him before I embarrass myself anymore, but before I make it two steps, he’s wrapping me up from behind, snaking his arms around my waist and yanking me to his chest. “I’ll come for you anytime you want, snow angel,” he rasps huskily into my ear, “but what I really can’t wait to see is how you look when you’re coming apart underneath me.”
Holy shit, did he really just say that? Breathe, Hudson, breathe.
Kissing my neck tenderly, he drops his arms, freeing me, and then pats my butt. “Now go take a shower or whatever you gotta do. We’ll be over in a little while, beautiful.”
After a lively meal filled with Denver performing impressions of his favorite cartoon characters, verbal sparring between Caleb and Brighton teetering between shit-talking and flirting, and the rest of my sisters—yep, all of them showed to ‘welcome’ our guests—shooting envious daggers my way in between bites of beef stew as they watched Crew and I steal not-so-discreet glances, dinner is over.
Grams wishes us all a good night as she disappears into her bedroom, probably itching to dig back into one of those smutty romances she enjoys reading, while Juno, Nali, and Kota pile into the Jeep and return to their apartment, their stomachs full of a home-cooked meal and freshly-served disappointment. I know I shouldn’t feel the smug satisfaction I do as they pull away, but damn it…it’s my turn to finally land the guy.
Mel pours Doug, Mary, and herself an Irish coffee as they set up shop in the den around the laptop, my parents continuing to help Mary prepare for the move, leaving the rest of us sitting around the table, wondering what we should do next.
“You ready to get your ass handed to you by a chick?” Brighton taunts Caleb, her blue eyes sparkling at the challenge of both him and the video game.
He scoffs, thrusting his chest out as he stands up. “You’re awfully sure of yourself for such a little thing. Let’s see whatcha got.”
“Ooh, I don’t wanna miss this,” Denver bounces out of his chair. “Bri’s gonna make this dude cry like a pussy.”
“Denver Payne Shavell! Don’t say that!” I warn in the best parent-scolding tone I can conjure up, but still fail to hide the amusement in my voice. I know, because he winks at me and repeats the p-word again.
Cheyenne rolls her eyes—I’m not sure if it’s directed at me, Denver, or the lot of us—then announces she’s going to her room, pausing briefly to see if anyone pleads with her to stay and hang out. It doesn’t happen, so she storms away with an exasperated huff.
Laughter floats around the room as Brighton, Caleb, and Denver all gather their plates and dump them in the sink before ambling off to the game room, leaving Crew and me alone at the table. I really don’t want to spend the rest of the evening watching a TV screen with computer-animated army guys killing each other, but I’m apprehensive about inviting him to my room…though I’m not quite sure why. It’s not like he’s going to try anything crazy with both of our families under the same roof.
“Is there somewhere we can chill for a while? Maybe away from all the excitement?” He squeezes my fingers that have been interlaced with his ever since we finished the actual eating part of dinner. “Just me and you?”
The way he says those last four words has me clenching my thighs together, staving off the flood of moisture that’s been threatening to drench
my panties. Pushing away from the table, I pick up both his and my empty bowls, drop them off in the kitchen, and then tip my head in the direction of my hallway. “Come on.”
With each step I take, the rate of my heartbeat increases exponentially, and by the time we’re inside the close quarters of my bedroom, I’m afraid I may break out in an all-over body sweat I’m so damn tense.
“You wanna watch a movie or something?” I propose, looking around the small space, realizing there’s not much to do but watch TV or read one of the gardening books stacked on my small desk.
Striding over to where I keep the expansive library of DVDs I own, he squats down to scan the titles. “Wow, you’ve got like every Tarantino film out there. I’m impressed,” he comments as he thumbs through the plastic cases.
“What were you expecting? Dazed and Confused, Half-Baked, and Pineapple Express?” I jest, even though I do own all three of those movies, as I fluff and position the pillows alongside the headboard for us to lounge against before climbing up onto the bed.
He chuckles lightly and tosses a don’t-be-ridiculous look over at me, pursing his lips. “That’s not the only thing I see you as, Hudson, but I was expecting your collection to be a little more…girly.”
Grabbing a movie from the shelf, he removes the disc and inserts it into the player without me seeing what it is. He then kicks his shoes off and joins me atop the mattress, slinging one arm around my shoulders to pull me in close while leaning back into the cushioned wall. I haven’t thought of a snarky comeback yet, because I’ve been too mesmerized watching the way he carries himself around my room with ease, like it’s exactly where he belongs.
His lips press firmly to the top of my head as his arms squeezes me even closer to him, and I exhale a blissful sigh. “After all,” he murmurs into my hair, “we’ve already established you’re definitely all girl.”
“True Romance is kinda girly,” I contend, fully aware of the tingling sensation spreading throughout my entire body. “And it’s one of my favorites.”
“Shh, just watch.”
Curling into him, I rest my head on his chest and lock my eyes on the screen, but before the opening credits appear, a blood-curdling scream echoes throughout the house.
I can count on three fingers the number of times in my life I've truly feared for my own or someone else's life.
The first time was when I was twelve and my mom—not quite eight months pregnant with Denver—slipped on a patch of black ice, breaking multiple bones and sending her into early labor. My dad was out of town on a business trip, and because of the whiteout blizzard, the ambulances couldn't reach us, nor could we make it to the hospital. My sisters and I ended up delivering him on the floor of my parents' bathroom, and although I kept my composure throughout the entire birth, I was terrified that either my baby brother or my mom would die before the medics made it to us.
The second time occurred during the summer I was fifteen, and upset over a silly fight I'd had with Dakota, I went off on my own for a hike in the woods behind the lodge. The plan was to find my inner Zen, cool down before I smacked my annoying sister upside the head, but instead, I found a big ass grizzly bear drinking water from the nearby creek. Even though I've always considered myself to be pretty brave, especially for a girl, I'm no Princess Merida and I was completely unarmed, so I took off running like an Olympic sprinter, dodging in and out of trees, with the bear right on my heels. Somehow, someway, I managed to flee to the safety of my house, seconds before I became Hudson tartare for lunch.
The third time is right now.
Paralyzed with fear, I stand with my arm hooked around Brighton's waist, holding her close as she buries her face in my chest, unable to watch the scene unfolding in front of us. I, on the other hand, can't tear my eyes away from the devastating sight of Caleb shaking violently across our game room floor while his mom and brother kneel next to him, ensuring he stays on his side and doesn't slam his body into any of the furniture.
With only the whites of his eyes visible and from the sheer amount of vomit spewing from his mouth, I'm afraid this seizure is worse than normal...that something is really wrong, but neither Crew nor Mary seems overly alarmed. I'm not sure what I expected—I guess trembling and jerking, maybe some drooling and crying out—but I had no idea of the severity or how incredibly gut-wrenching it would be to witness him fight his way through one.
"Mel, why don't you take Denver out of here and explain to him what happened?" My dad's voice breaks through the eerie silence once Caleb's body stops convulsing and lies limp in a puddle of his own bodily fluids. I snap my head up just in time to see my mom ushering my little brother, his face full of a thousand questions, out of the room.
"Brighton," he continues in a gentle yet authoritative tone I'm not sure I've ever heard from him, "go hang out in Cheyenne's room or with Mel and Denver until I get back from carrying Caleb over to their cabin."
Crew unfolds his legs underneath him with a swift shake of his head. "I've got him. Don't worry about it. I'm used to this," he insists. "I'm sorry for everything." The pain and anguish on Crew's face incites a clenching sensation so deep in my chest I'm afraid my heart may be permanently bruised.
"There's nothing to be sorry about, and I want to help. Please. The weather's getting bad outside and I need you to go with Hudson to the greenhouse to grab something to help Caleb when he wakes up. A minute or two to catch your breath will help you, and her as well." He cocks his head in my direction, where I now stand alone, still in complete shock, my arms wrapped tightly around my middle as I struggle to process the images in my head. Crew's gaze searches the room, and the moment he finds me, an additional layer of concern is added to his already troubled expression.
"Go with Crew, sweetie, and get a quarter ounce of Baby's Breath. I think it'll be best for now," my dad urges. "Mary and I will get Caleb comfortable, and then you can stay over there as long as you need to. Okay?"
I don't respond. I have no words.
"Take her, son," Mary encourages softly. "Caleb will be okay. You know that."
Crew's focus flits from me to his mom, then over to his brother, and finally lands back on me. Nodding, he crosses the room with long, unwavering strides until he's mere inches from me.
"Come with me, Hudson," he reaches out and grabs both of my hands in his, yanking my body up against his like a limp ragdoll. He rubs his strong hands up and down my arms as he presses his lips to my forehead. "He's gonna be fine. I promise. Just come with me right now."
He leads me out of the room, pausing for us both to put on our coats and shoes, and then out the front door, rarely allowing our skin to break contact. Somewhere between my house and the greenhouse, instinct kicks in—granted, a little delayed—and suddenly, I’m overcome with the need to help Caleb, even more so than before. Now that I’ve seen what afflicts him…now that I know what he has to live with on a daily basis, I’m even more motivated than before to do anything and everything in my power to fix him. No one should have to deal with that. Especially not him.
Darting around the greenhouse like a woman possessed, I grab not only the sack of Baby’s Breath that my dad suggested, but several other strains that I hadn’t taken over yesterday, wanting to give them every possible option to choose from. Silent, Crew hangs out by the door, staying out of my way as if he senses my frenzied panic, until I trip over a watering line and fall to my hands and knees.
Rushing over to my side, he helps me up off the ground, brushing the dirt off of my legs and arms, but I’m unable to hold back the tears of frustration that escape.
“Hey there, baby.” He tenderly wipes away the moisture on my cheeks with his thumbs. “Take a deep breath and calm down. It’s gonna be okay.”
He squats down to pick up the bags of weed I dropped on the ground, tucking them away inside his coat, then laces our fingers together and tips his head toward the door. “Come on. I’ve got ya.”
With my hand nestled securely back in his, we charge t
hrough the increasing snowfall until we’re safely trudging up the steps to his cabin. After immediately shedding my outer layer of clothing, I rush over to the bed where Caleb is asleep, already cleaned up and in fresh clothes.
“He woke up for a little bit when we changed his clothes, but he’ll probably sleep for a while now,” Mary says, her gentle tone appeasing my worry a little bit. “I know you’ve never experienced anything like that before, but he’s going to be fine. He’ll barely remember what happened when he wakes up.”
“Is he in pain?” I wonder aloud in a hushed whisper.
Crew sidles up next to me, encircling his arm around my waist and resting his chin on the top of my head. “Sometimes, he’s a little nauseous or has a headache when he wakes up, but other times, he’s just fine.”
Mary digs some clothes out of one of the drawers and excuses herself for a shower, patting both of our arms as she walks by. Leaning my weight back into him, I release a feeble sigh, unsure of what to say. I feel helpless and I hate it.
“Come on.” He nudges me away from the bed. “Let’s go sit down and talk, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know about it. If you’re gonna be around him, you can’t freak out like this every time, ‘cause I promise it’ll happen again.”
Once we’re seated at the table, I eye the orange pack of ZigZags and weed where we left them earlier in the day, and I have the overwhelming desire to smoke. I need something to help relax me, something to smooth the rough edges of my worries and fears, but I feel weird lighting up in someone else’s place.
“Go ahead. She won’t mind,” Crew assures me before I can even ask, intuitively sensing my craving.
“Are you sure?” I ask suspiciously.