Point Of No Return

Chapter 5: Temerity

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞.

I had lost.

By one stupid second.

It had been a close match—painfully close—but in the end, Finn had crossed the finish line just before me, and he had not let me forget it.

He'd gloated for the rest of the night, basking in his glorious victory, milking it for all it was worth. Any time I spoke, he'd cut in with a casual, "Oh, I'm sorry—was that the sound of a loser talking?" Or, "You put up a good fight, Lawson. Really. But, y'know... second place is still first loser."

I'd debated throwing a pillow at his face.

By the time everyone had been getting ready to leave, I had reluctantly asked what he wanted me to wear for the next dinner.

Finn had only grinned. "Oh, don't worry. I'll think of something."

I had dropped it after that, hoping he'd either forget about it entirely or—at the very least—not have any way to actually remind me. He didn't have my number. Which meant I was safe.

Right?

But, of course, that wasn't the part of the night that stuck with me the most. It wasn't the bet. It wasn't Finn's relentless teasing. It was Hudson. Or, more specifically, Hudson not being there.

Why wasn't he at dinner? Had he been sick? His mom hadn't mentioned anything, but she had apologized for him not coming—like she'd felt the need to explain.

Or had he just not wanted to be there? Had he decided it wasn't worth it—that another loud, overwhelming night with too many people and too many conversations just wasn't for him? Had he just not cared enough to show up? Had he not cared enough to see me?

I shut my eyes, exhaling sharply. Get a grip, Amara.

It wasn't like Hudson Reed had any reason to want to be at dinner. It wasn't like he owed anyone his presence. It wasn't like we were friends.

So why had his absence felt like something?

I hated how much I had thought about it. And even worse—how much I still was.

✺✺✺✺✺✺✺✺✺✺

Four weeks.

That was how long I had to go without seeing him. It should have been easy. It should have been nothing. But instead, I had spent the past two weeks catching myself looking forward to Sunday dinner—which was insane. Completely irrational. And yet, no matter how many times I told myself otherwise, I knew the truth.

By the time we returned to the Reeds' house, it would have been nearly a month since I last saw Hudson. And in that month, I hadn't gone a single day without thinking about him. I tried to convince myself it wasn't really about him. That I was just looking forward to something different. That the weeks had started feeling monotonous and the dinners were simply a break in the routine. But deep down, I knew better.

Because no matter how hard I tried, my mind always circled back to Hudson. To the way he existed just slightly outside of everything. To the way he was there but not there. To the way I had never met someone who made silence feel so loud. And now, as Sunday approached, I found myself counting down the days.

Which was exactly why, when Friday rolled around, I was not prepared for Alex dropping into the seat next to me in History and plopping a plain paper bag onto my desk.

I frowned at the paper bag now sitting in front of me, glancing between it and Alex. He didn't acknowledge my confusion—just leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head like this was just another normal day.