OCTOBER 17, 2015
WHEN I WAS STUDYING IN college, I was asked to do a time-lapse video of anything growing or decaying to show progression that the human eye wouldn’t normally notice. I chose to time-lapse an orchid in its phases since it so rarely bloomed. It took over a month. Every day I checked on it, but didn’t see significant change. Enough that I thought maybe I’d killed the plant.
But then there was a bud, and then it bloomed.
When I watched it back, I was shocked to see the growth. When sped up, it was like watching a ballerina waking from a majestic slumber. Graceful swaying until it stretched awake and shared its beauty with the world.
That was how the past two months felt ever since I first saw Hudson… like watching a time-lapse video. When time moved slowly, but it felt like it happened all at once. Progression with Hudson was happening every day we spent meeting for lunch and getting to know one another, but in hindsight, I didn’t realize it was building into something neither one of us was prepared for.
Not until today.
Hudson watched me mess around with the footage I’d captured that day on my laptop. It was a routine we fell into without ever speaking it out loud. I edited. He wrapped silverware inside napkins. Slowly learning things about one another as the days wove into weeks.
“You really love what you do, don’t you?” he asked before taking a bite of his fish sandwich, the same he had every day. I’d come to learn he was a creature of habit. One of those who never ventured with a menu. Or with a brand of clothing.
Or with a person he was interested in.
An effortless smile bloomed across my face. “I do. What made you ask?”
He used his chin to point to the laptop. “Every day you’re out there, capturing images, and then bringing them back here to edit just for the fun of it. I’ve yet to see you rundown about it. Not even a smidgen of a frown.”
I hit save, and then shut my laptop. “This is therapeutic for me. It makes me feel like I have some order in my life.”
He took another massive bite of his sandwich, leaving a trail of mayo underneath his bottom lip.
I giggled. “You, on the other hand,” I said, leaning to reach across the table and wipe at his chin with a napkin, “are a man of disorder. Of that, I’m sure.”
He swallowed. “Didn’t your nona ever tell you looks can be deceiving?”
I pursed my lips. “Are you saying you’re tidy?”
“Are we answering questions with a question?” he retorted, trying his best to hide a smirk, but I was becoming familiar with his facial tics. His left dimple twitched when he was trying to bite back a smile. And his smile felt deeper when our conversations were on the lighter side.
I paused, my chest lightening like it always did when I was around him. “Am I right?”
His eyes grew mischievous. “What if I said I have something I’d like to show you? What I’ve formed as my routine. If you’re available?”
I leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “Is that rhetorical? You know my availability.”
He held my gaze, letting that be his answer.
I let out a pitiable sigh and began to inspect my nails, pretending to be nonchalant. “I might be free, although it’d mean I’d have to cancel my date with the Winchester brothers… something I’m not willing to do for just anyone.”
When I lifted my eyes, his eyebrows were hooked heavy with a question. “I… I wasn’t aware you were dating someo—” He coughed and corrected, “I mean… people.”
I chewed on my cheek, trying to contain my amusement. “It’s a television show, Hudson,” I said, holding my stomach as laughter overtook me. “Supernatural… the hunters?”
He shook his head, unaware. “Sorry… I don’t watch much TV. Not unless a fight’s on.”
“Me either, unless it’s Supernatural or Bizarre Foods,” I said, picking up an Oreo. I lifted my gaze to his. “And, yes, I am free tonight.”
His chest expanded a little.
“What’s the routine you want to show me?” Images flooded my mind, all of which sent a healthy flush to my cheeks.
It’d been a while… and there was enough sexual tension stored between us to start a wildfire.
“It’s a surprise,” he said, his face relaxing. “Is seven good? I’ll make dinner.”
Another layer of Hudson peeled back in front of me. “You cook?”
He rolled the wrapper of the straw between his fingers. “I make a few things here and there.”
Something in how he said it told me he could do more than make a few things. It was another side of Hudson I’d come to realize. He downplayed anything brilliant about himself. Humble to his core.
“I’ll arrive with fork in hand then.” I started packing my things. When I finished, we stood, and then he walked me to my bus.
He opened the door for me. “See you at seven, Hartley.” He stared down at me, his eyes an endless blue. My back was against the bus. His body was a breath away from mine.
There was a small, shimmering moment when his eyes found my lips and my tongue yearned to taste his that I thought he was going to kiss me. It had become a thing of ours, that dance we did on the edge of the cliff, waiting for one of us to push the other over.
Normally, I’d say fuck it, grab onto him, and take the plunge. But I couldn’t. Not yet. Not with him, and that scared the hell out of me.
I cleared my throat, and then he stepped back, the moment gone. Shadows cast over the ground as if the sun had gathered up the clouds, shielding its disappointment in us.
As I got into my bus and he headed back inside, I couldn’t help but think there it was. Hindsight catching up to have a chat with me. I’d soon know where he lived. He’d soon show me more layers of himself in a more personal setting. We’d both cross a barrier we’d unknowingly set, disregarding the fallout we knew was in store for us.
Bruised, jaded me shoving away the defenses I stood behind.
Broken, hesitant him stepping out from the shadows at a chance for a dance with sunlight.
A tidal wave was in store for us, and I wasn’t sure we’d survive it.