Make Up Break Up

by Lily Menon

  She raised an eyebrow. “My ability to kick your ass?”

  Hudson chuckled and ran a hand over the lantern, making shadows play across the table. “The fact that you’re a worthy opponent. It wouldn’t be fun otherwise.”

  “Right.” Annika felt a little bubble of relief. He felt the same way as her about EPIC. As for what he’d said on her dad’s deck about Break Up—they’d get to that, maybe after the pitch contest. Which meant … maybe, just maybe, she could sit back and enjoy the ride. Literally. She let herself smile as she looked around them. The last of the passengers were on, and the train doors had closed. “I have to say, this is the perfect way to relax before the big pitch Sunday.”

  Hudson held her eye, not returning her smile. “I don’t want to talk about work anymore tonight.”

  Her blood began to hum. She didn’t want to talk about work, either, she realized. Now that EPIC had been settled, she wanted … she wanted Hudson to lean into her, to murmur jokes in her ear, for them to sip each other’s wines. She wanted him. “Okay,” she said quietly.

  “You’re not fighting me so much anymore,” he murmured, oblivious to all the chatter around them.

  Annika shook her head, unable to look away. “No. I’m not. I think I might be done fighting.”

  Before Hudson could respond, their waiter came into the aisle to introduce himself and tell them all about the tour and the two vineyards they’d pass. It was going to be a three-hour trip—three hours to sit with Hudson, to look into those unnerving green eyes. It was only mildly terrifying.

  Annika settled back against her booth.

  chapter eighteen

  “Here’s a question I love,” Annika said, waving her wineglass around.

  They were about an hour into the trip and the sommelier kept coming around, pushing a “full-nosed” this and a “bouquet” of that. She’d accepted a couple of glasses of rosé and was deeply, deeply enjoying the wine. She’d been worrying for nothing—what she really needed to do was relax before her big day, just like June had said.

  “If you had a magic wand and you could wave it to have the perfect life when you woke up in the morning, how would you know your life was perfect when you woke up? I heard it at this seminar I went to in college. It’s supposed to help you create a concrete plan to get to your perfect life.”

  “Hmm.” Hudson sipped thoughtfully at his merlot as the train rocked them gently. “Let’s see. I guess, for one, I’d be completely happy. I wouldn’t wake up and think, ‘Here we go again.’”

  Annika blinked. “That’s what you think now?”

  He nodded his head slowly. “Every day.”

  “Because of Break Up?”

  “Because of what it means that I’m the public face of Break Up. I’m a little mired in the existentialism of it all. Plus, like I said before, I don’t see myself doing this forever.”

  “Okay.” Annika reached into her purse and pulled out her little notebook and pen. Her palms were actually damp. Holy shit. What she’d told June was a thousand percent true—Hudson was going to give up Break Up for good. Probably very soon.

  Her fingers shaking slightly, she wrote “Hudson’s Magic List” at the top of the page and added, “#1: No more public face of Break Up.” Nodding at him seriously, she said, “Got it. What else?”

  He looked at her, amused yet oblivious to the maelstrom inside her. “I guess … I’d have a full sculpting studio set up in my condo. So I wouldn’t need to rent out space anytime I got the itch.”

  “Mm hmm.” Annika jotted that down. “Studio for sculpting. Done. Anything else?”

  When he was quiet, she looked up at him—and froze. He was studying her with an intensity that made her stomach flip. “I’d like to be in a relationship with someone I care about and respect. Someone who shows me new ways of being.”

  “Okay,” Annika said, hyperaware that her voice was a little squeaky. With a trembling hand, she wrote “#3: Relationship, care, respect.” What did he mean by that? Did he mean he wanted to be in a relationship with her specifically, or just in a relationship with someone? She wanted to ask him, but her mouth felt glued shut.

  They gazed at each other across the flowers and the lambent lantern flame. Hudson’s eyes shone a golden green in the fading dusk. “What about you? What would be on your list?”

  A waiter came by with their second courses before Annika could respond. When he was gone, she took her time cutting a piece of her smoked eggplant and chewing it carefully. Then, looking up at Hudson, she said, “More than anything, I want Make Up to work out.”

  After a pause, during which they both ate their food and drank their wine in silence, listening to the hum and rumble of the train, Hudson said, “What else would be on your list? Just Make Up?”

  There was a look in his eye, a shadow of the question he really wanted to ask. Annika’s stomach fluttered.

  “Well, I want my dad to be happy, of course,” she said formally, buying time.

  “Of course,” Hudson said, just as formally, cutting his fish.

  Annika took a gulp of her wine. Her palm was actually sweating around the glass. Yuck. “And … you know, I might want to start dating. A little bit. Maybe.”

  Hudson’s face was casual as he nodded. “Hmm. Interesting.”

  “Isn’t it?” Annika said, her heart hammering pitifully against her chest. “I mean, you want a relationship, I’m thinking about dating … it’s definitely like we’re moving along. On similar paths, one might say.”

  “One might,” Hudson agreed, watching her.

  The waiter cleared their plates. When he was gone, Hudson said, “I’m serious, you know. About being ready for a relationship.” He leaned forward, his face unreadable, his hand mere centimeters away from hers on the table.

  “S-so am I.” She couldn’t look away. “About dating.”

  Soon, the waiter began his trek down the aisle, depositing people’s third courses as he went. Hudson held Annika’s eyes. “I’m not that hungry anymore. I think I might go to the viewing deck for a bit.” He paused, and Annika’s pulse beat against her throat like a trapped hummingbird. “Will you join me?”

  Join him. On the viewing deck. They’d be the only two there, because everyone else was enjoying their award-winning dinner. She swallowed. “Okay.” Her voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

  Hudson dabbed his mouth with a napkin, set it on the table, and walked down the aisle, murmuring something to the waiter as he went. The waiter glanced at Annika—who felt her cheeks redden—and nodded with a knowing smile.

  Relax, Annika, she told herself, patting her lips on her napkin and reapplying her lipstick quickly.

  Taking a breath, she slid out of the booth and walked down the aisle to the viewing deck, doing her best to ignore the wild thrumming of her pulse.

  * * *

  Dusk was rapidly spooling into nighttime. The viewing deck was a small, secluded balcony-like setup on the far side of the train, just big enough for two people to squeeze in side by side. The car attached to it was empty and shrouded in almost complete darkness. Outside, a full moon had already risen, coating the vineyards with its silver light, purple shadows dancing in deep pools. Annika slotted in beside Hudson, who was watching the vistas pensively as they trundled on.

  She glanced at him, her head swimming pleasantly from all the wine. “I like this train. I wonder if I could pay rent and just live on it.”

  He smiled, still looking straight ahead. “You could do yoga on the roof.”

  “Yeah, kind of like a Polar Express situation, but less creepy.”

  Hudson laughed and turned to her, the tips of his blond hair blowing in the wind. “You found Polar Express creepy?”

  She turned so she was facing him, too. “Didn’t you? The Tom Hanks character on the roof gave off major predator vibes.”

  Still chuckling, Hudson tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, his warm hand caressing her skin. Without thinking about it, Annika lean
ed into it. “You have a very unique view on life,” he said, his handsome face serious, no sign of his trademark smirk anywhere.

  They reached for each other at the exact same time. Hudson’s hands wound around her waist, hers around his neck. He pulled her against him with urgency, his desire burning in his eyes like green embers.

  “Hudson,” Annika murmured, sliding her hands down to his chest, feeling his incredible pecs through his shirt. Her legs felt like they were made of melting rubber, like they couldn’t possibly hold up her weight much longer. She couldn’t stop staring at his lips, at his strong jaw, at the hint of blond stubble. How he towered over her, how she felt completely safe in his arms. How he took up space with authority, as if standing here on the viewing deck was something that had become part of his life naturally, as most great experiences did.

  “Annika,” he said softly, her name like poetry on his lips. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to hold you like this?”

  “Really?” she whispered, looking up at him.

  “Really,” he said, his face solemn. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop laughing at the things you say, even when you’re not around. Ziggy and Blaire think I need help. Every morning when I wake up, I don’t think about what I’m going to do at work—I think about who I’m going to see. Will you walk past? Will you stop in to talk to me? How can I organize a group lunch so you’ll come? A party, so I can invite you? Every time I open my mouth, I want to tell a story about you. Believe me, this is not normal. Not for me.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about you, either,” Annika whispered, so close to his lips that the words were trapped between their breaths. “And … I don’t want to stop thinking about you.”

  Then his mouth was on hers, his lips warm and firm, his teeth scraping her mouth, his tongue tasting her like she was the most decadent morsel he’d ever had. Annika sank into his kiss, her body molded so closely to his she could feel his erection, his desire, his absolute want for her. His hand slid up her bare thigh under her shorts, and cupped her ass. She moaned slightly as his fingers slipped forward, gently teasing her along the lace edge of her underwear.

  “Hudson,” Annika whispered again, as his fingers slipped farther in. “Not here—someone could walk out.” But her body belied her words; she parted her legs slightly.

  His mouth dipped down to her throat. “I want you so badly,” he said, pushing the crotch of her panties aside, just the tip of his fingers entering her. “Right now. I’ve been thinking about this, about you, since last summer. Since Vegas.”

  Annika gasped and his other hand tightened around her waist, steadying her. She could feel his mouth curving upward into a smile.

  “If you really want me to stop, Ms. Dev, I will,” he crooned, letting his fingers slide into her just a fraction more, leaving her gasping.

  “No.” Her eyes slipped shut. “Don’t. I’ve been thinking about you, too.” Annika didn’t think she could stand anymore; her legs were now incapable of supporting her. She wanted him to lift her up, to set her against the wall, to have his way with her.

  “I think it’s down this way.”

  They flew apart as soon as they heard the voices trailing down the previously empty train car. Hudson’s eyes were wild, feral, his pupils dilated with desire. His cheeks were flushed, and Annika knew she looked just as unkempt as he did. Patting down her hair, she turned to look out at the view, Hudson holding himself awkwardly, thanks to certain parts of his body that still hadn’t calmed down. Their hands lay next to each other on the railing, and he gently edged his pinky onto hers. She smiled at him just as an older middle-aged couple rounded the corner.

  “Oh!” A man wearing a plaid newsboy cap said. “I didn’t realize there was someone else up here!” His wife smiled at them.

  “It’s okay,” Annika said, with a questioning glance at Hudson. “I think we were done here?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, we’re done.” Then, looking right at her, he said in a voice that was half-growl, half-command, “For now.”

  Annika swallowed and managed a smile as they brushed past the older couple and made their way back down the train car. Other people were finishing up their third course and moving on to their third. Their magic moment was over … for now.

  * * *

  How long could foreplay last? Annika didn’t think she could Google it without Hudson seeing, but she was really curious. As the train neared the station, she got up twice and checked her makeup in the bathroom, reapplied a little perfume, and teased her hair at the roots so it had more volume. She didn’t know if he noticed these things, but she noticed them. If she wanted to tap into her inner femme fatale, she needed to harness everything in her tool kit.

  For his part, Hudson seemed to be trying to drive her crazy while maintaining an unbelievably cool composure himself. Once, his foot found hers under the table, and he drew his leg up against hers, the denim of his pants rough, so inviting against the smooth silk of her skin. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked across the table at him, but he glanced at her and then away, even as his leg continued to brush up against hers.

  Another time, he reached across and fed her a grape, succulent and sweet, his fingers lingering in her mouth just a fraction too long, her tongue reaching out to dart across his skin—only to have him pull his hand back, leaving her panting, leaving her wanting.

  Hudson had awakened something long-dormant inside her on that viewing deck. She wanted more from him. She wanted to see more of this Hudson, the one who was in courting mode, the one who wanted a relationship, the one who was pursuing her with a single-minded purpose that made her dizzy. She wanted his deft, sure fingers again; she wanted to taste him, and she wanted him to taste her. She wanted her mind blown, and she knew he was the one who could take her there.

  For now, though, she had to sit rigidly in her seat as the train pulled into the station, hissing and groaning. The waiter came by to thank them all and wish them a good night, and everyone began to disembark. She and Hudson were the last to get off.

  Annika felt her heart pounding in her chest, her palms dampening again as they walked together toward the shuttle, not saying anything, buoyed by the slight chill in the air and the muted chatter of the other passengers, all of whom looked more tired than she felt. Each one of her nerves was on high alert, her entire body thrumming with desire and wanton need. She glanced at Hudson, but his face was impassive, unreadable. What was he feeling? What was he thinking?

  On the shuttle ride back, Hudson told her stories of vacationing in the Midwest as a kid, how he’d stayed at his family’s cabin and read in the attic while his parents and brother had gone fishing, how they’d come back and he’d fallen asleep up there and they were all panicked, how he’d come downstairs just as they were mobilizing the neighbors into a search party. She laughed at all the appropriate parts, but her brain was hyperaware of each time his hand brushed hers or her knee, arguing with herself about whether it had been on purpose or accidentally-on-purpose or just an accident.

  She could tell nothing from the way he spoke. She couldn’t exactly ask him, either, because a gay couple across the aisle had heard him talking and chimed in with their own “summer in the Midwest” stories. Annika was forced to nod and smile and listen, while every cell within her sang in hope and anticipation. Her blood pulsed, her skin felt alive and alert—every body part consumed with desire. Her head felt foggy, actually foggy, like sexual attraction was the most potent opiate and she’d just slammed a concentrated vial of it.

  Once the shuttle had deposited them back at the hotel foyer and the gay couple said their goodbyes and good nights, Annika and Hudson regarded each other in the glowing chandelier light, the harpist still playing her tinkling, inoffensive music in the background.

  “So.” Annika looked up at him. Her knees were getting weaker the longer they locked eyes. He was unsmiling, so serious, so very intent.

  He nodded. “So.”

  She waite
d a beat, but nothing came. “So…” Feeling flustered, she scratched the back of her neck. “Um, I just, I didn’t know—”

  “Annika.”

  She looked back up at him.

  “I’m going to my room.”

  “Right,” she said finally, nodding briskly. “Good idea. We have an early start tomorrow, and I can’t sleep in hotels, so … yeah. Good.” Ugh. She sounded completely unconvincing and defensive. Blinking, she looked at the harpist playing her happy little song, entirely oblivious.

  “Annika.”

  She forced herself to look at him again, rearranging her expression so it was not at all hurt, not at all vulnerable. When their eyes met, though, her mouth went dry at his intensity—the deep desire, the laser focus.

  “I’m going up to my room, and I’d very much like it if you would join me.” He took her hand.

  Oh. Oh. Annika felt her hands begin to tremble. “I’d—I’d love to,” she said, unable to breathe.

  Smiling faintly, Hudson laced his confident fingers around hers, stilling them. They walked to the elevators together in silence, her hand practically singing at his touch.

  chapter nineteen

  His room was extravagant—twice as big as hers, and on the top floor, with a sweeping view of the vineyards and fields that were now bathed in ribbons of moonlight and shadow. The walls were wallpapered in textured white linen shot through with silver threads.

  As her eyes swept over the gold sofa by the window, Annika suddenly remembered their time in Vegas, when they were draped over each other on the couch in her room.

  Well, to be fair, she’d been the one to drape herself over Hudson.

  “It’s going to be about second chances,” she told him, sitting so close their thighs were touching. She leaned over in a way she knew exposed her breasts in a very flattering way. “Maybe bringing exes back together or something. Happily ever after, redux.”