Falling for Hudson (Marlowe series Book 2) Page 7

  After finishing up, I sit down at my drum kit and take a deep breath. Pounding on my drums always helps cool me back down, and I’ll need it after the way the night is already heading. I beat the shit out of my drums, not playing any song in particular, and I eventually stop when the sweat starts beading off of me. My breathing comes out labored, and I lick my overly dry lips with an even drier tongue. It’s like using sandpaper, making my endeavor pointless. I down a water bottle from the mini fridge and clean myself up the best I can in the small bathroom before I check out the time on my phone. Shit, I’ve been down here for almost an hour.

  When I make my way back upstairs, there’s a commotion in the kitchen, and when I get in there, it doesn’t take me long to figure out why. Someone has “Pour Some Sugar on Me” cranked up, and Chloe is on the island with a bottle of something or other. Fortunately she was smart enough to take off her heels. She’s kind of all over the place and has reached the point of way too much for the night.

  Where the fuck is Jax?

  The only reason I agreed to this damn party in the first place was that if I wasn’t watching her, Jax would be. I leave the room and this is what I come back to? I spot Jax over in the corner, talking with Erin. Guess that’s where he went off to. I didn’t tell him I invited Oliver and Erin. Since they’re both in town, I felt it would be rude not to. From where I’m standing, it looks like she’s decked out in a hot Black Widow costume. She’s always known about Jax’s love for superheroes, so I wonder if this is her way of trying to win him back? Not that it would make any sense, because she left him, not the other way around.

  Much to everyone’s disappointment, I pull Chloe off the counter and remove the bottle from her hands. Taking a quick look at it, I see she was working on what is now a half-empty bottle of Fireball. I just hope it wasn’t full when she started. Pulling her with me, I start heading back upstairs. She wiggles and attempts to struggle from my grasp, but I’m holding on tight. “Chloe, I think it’s time to head upstairs now.”

  “Oh, Hudson, you’re no fun. Where’s Jax at? I’m sure he’d like to dance with me.” Somehow she’s gotten another drink in her hands and takes a giant chug before turning to walk away, but I spin her back around to face me. She wobbles slightly on her feet, and I realize that wasn’t the best choice on my part. When she steadies herself and turns back toward me, she’s smiling and wraps her arms around my neck. I don’t know the song that’s playing, but Chloe doesn’t seem to care. She’s swaying her body and no longer has the drink in her hands. “Ecstasy” by the Late Nite Reading comes on, and I squeeze her tighter to me. We continue dancing in our slow circle when her body stiffens and she stops moving. Dropping her hands away from me and taking a step back, she asks, “Who is she?”

  I don’t even have to look up to know she’s talking about Erin. But I do at the same time I tell her. “That’s Erin.” She and Jax are still deep in conversation, and I’m kind of curious what they could still be talking about. “I saw her when she came in. She’s freakin’ gorgeous, and Jax gravitated straight to her.” I shouldn’t be surprised, but it’s still like a punch to the stomach that her immediate thought was to start drinking because Jax’s attention is elsewhere. I thought she’d moved on from that…but I guess not.

  I don’t even realize what’s happened until I look up and see Chloe stalking toward them. Oh no. This can’t be good. There are a shit ton of people here, and she makes it to Jax and Erin before I can catch her. I’m only seconds behind her, but I clearly hear her say, “Why are you even here?” Jax’s eyes go wide and Erin switches to a defensive stance with her body turned toward Chloe and her hands on her hips. “Excuse me?” she asks.

  Clearing her throat, Chloe says, “I said, why are you here? Nobody wants you here, and I think you should leave.” She motions toward the door and takes a step back, clearing a path for her. Somebody turns the music off and the entire room becomes dead silent as everyone is watching this interaction. The majority of them don’t even know what’s going on, but I’m sure they’re all just hoping to see a girl fight.

  Erin looks over at Jax, ignoring Chloe, and asks, “Who the heck is this girl and why is she telling me to leave? Are you going to say something to her?”

  Jax opens his mouth to say something, but Chloe beats him to it. “This girl lives here. And I know exactly who you are, Erin. Don’t you think you caused enough trouble when you left Jax in the first place? He doesn’t want or need you anymore.”

  I pull Chloe back to me, and Jax finally gets the chance to speak up. “You should leave, Erin. In fact, I think everyone should leave.” Louder, he says to the entire room, “I don’t care where you guys go, but you can’t stay here any longer. Party’s over, everyone.” There are a few grumbles and somebody turns on that old Semisonic song. But they all shuffle out the front door until all that’s left in the living room is Chloe, Jax, myself, Ashtyn, Flynn, Jude, Abbie, Oliver, and Erin. Talk about awkward. Jude turns toward the iPhone we have plugged in and turns it off. I guess he was the funny guy who turned the song on.

  Oliver takes this moment to step forward. “What’s going on here?”

  I’ve got my arm tight around Chloe’s body. She’s not moving, but I have a feeling she might just snap at any minute and I’d rather be proactive and hold her back. “That’s what I’d like to know. The blonde came up to me and started telling me I need to leave. I don’t know who she is or how any of this is her business,” Erin says.

  Chloe starts struggling in my arms and I start to say something, but Jax beats me to it. “Chloe lives here with Hudson and me. She’s Ashtyn’s best friend.” He points to where Flynn is standing with his arm wrapped around her. “Yeah, well, she’s acting like a bitch,” Erin says back.

  Oliver whistles loudly, causing everyone to turn his or her attention back to him. “Can someone please explain what the fuck is going on?”

  Everyone is a little dumbfounded, so I say, “Chloe here is a little drunk.”

  “No, Hudson, I’m not drunk. I’m thinking very clearly. And I don’t know who you are.” She squeezes herself out of my grasp and turns her attention toward Oliver.

  “I’m Oliver. The guy who signed all of these guys to my label. Although I’m starting to wonder if that was such a good idea.”

  Chloe doesn’t even hesitate before replying, “Okay…nice to meet you. This girl right here,” she motions to Erin, “obliterated Jax. I wasn’t there when it originally happened, but I’ve been witnessing the aftermath. What she did is not okay and I don’t think it’s helpful to anyone for her to be here right now. I don’t even know why she’s here.”

  My turn to speak up. “Because I invited her.”

  Chloe whips her body around and stares me down with daggers. “Why the hell would you do that?”

  Clarifying, I say, “I actually invited Oliver and I said he could bring her along.”

  That causes Chloe to whip back around and stare her death daggers at Oliver. She is on a manhunt tonight. “Okay, why would you bring her with you?” she asks.

  Shrugging his shoulders, he states, “Because she’s my sister.”

  I look around the room for confirmation, and all of the guys are nodding their heads. Chloe throws hers back in a cruel laugh. “Well, that’s just fucking hilarious. Apparently I don’t even know what’s going on here. I think I’ll just go to bed and leave you all to this ridiculous drama.”

  She turns to walk away, and Jax says, “Chloe, wait. Thank you for trying to help. I know you were doing what you thought was right.”

  “You’re welcome, Jax.” She turns her attention to Erin. “I don’t like to see you in pain, and every time anyone mentions her name, that’s exactly what happens.”

  Erin cringes and Chloe turns back away, getting exactly what she wanted. She heads upstairs as we all stand around in complete silence. What a fucking night.

  Chapter 9

  Chloe

  Another month of school flies by. Not that anythi
ng exciting has happened or that I would even care if it did, but either way it’s over and done with quickly. At this point, I feel like I’m just going through the motions, and it’s more for everyone else than it is for me. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to be a high school dropout, but at the same time, I don’t even care.

  This is such a minuscule part of my life, and why does everyone care so much? In ten years, it won’t matter who was the homecoming queen or the quarterback of the football team. Why does any of this matter to anyone? We sit in these classrooms day after day for years of our lives, but will anyone remember what we learned? I’m gonna go with a big fat no. It’s all so pointless.

  For example, I’m sitting in my theater class right now, which is one giant joke. I get it. Ashtyn’s mom registered me for classes and she knows the old me. The old me would have been buzzing with energy as soon as I stepped foot in this amazing theater that’s way too good to belong to a high school. The teacher drones on and on about auditions, volunteer opportunities, internships, blah, blah, blah. The acoustics make it sound like he’s standing right next to me rather than one hundred feet away on the stage. Basically perfect.

  A packet is passed onto my desk: “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” I pick it up and run my fingers along the title and wait for the adrenaline rush and butterflies to flutter through me. My favorite Shakespeare play is within my reach. I could stand up on that stage and pretend to be Helena. Steal the show and have everyone fall in love with me. But as I look at that stage, all I feel is the darkness closing in. I feel like I’m standing in front of an audience as they judge me and not a single supporter among them. There’s a hole where Mom should be, and rather than let the panic start up, I toss the script to the side.

  It’s one of my favorite Shakespeare plays. I always preferred the comedies to the tragedies, and when you throw in a little love, you have something there. With the proximity to the Shakespeare Festival, I get the idea that the theater program is pretty competitive here. I wish I cared enough to see how good I am.

  “Mr. Hemmer, are you requiring everyone to audition for the play again this year?” I try to ignore the annoying sound coming from Brooke’s mouth, but my ears perk up nonetheless.

  He clears his throat and rolls his eyes. No one else is looking at him, so I’m the only one who caught it, but at least I know I’m not the only one that can’t stand her. She’s so fake it’s disgusting. “No, Brooke, that turned out to be a disaster last time. No one will be required to audition, but everyone here will be required to help out in some way, whether that is working on the sets or any of the other backstage jobs. I do hope you all consider auditioning for a part though.”

  She can’t even hide the ridiculous smile that is plastered all over her face. In the most saccharine voice, she says, “That’s good. I’m sure there are some people in here that just aren’t meant for being on stage.” I turn to look at her, and she’s staring straight at me. I hold her gaze and refuse to back down from her. I match my sickeningly sweet smile to hers, although mine’s a little more serial killer than cheerleader. It works though. Her mouth opens in horror and she turns back around.

  I toss the script to the side and go back to drowning out the noises around me. If I could get away with blasting music in my ears right now, I totally would. That’s a little more than frowned upon though. Instead, I listen to the song playing inside my head. Hudson’s phone every morning, without fail, gets a song stuck in my head throughout the day. The upside is I’m going outside of the box and learning new music. That’s the only upside.

  Today, Hudson slept through not one but two songs, so I’ve been going back and forth between them. Right now I’ve got an All Time Low song on repeat. I can relate to those “Kids in the Dark.” I’m sure Ashtyn would be so proud. I keep singing the song over and over as I shuffle out of the classroom. I don’t think the teacher even noticed me, or any of my teachers for that matter. But I’m perfectly okay with that.

  Speaking of Ashtyn, fortunately I only have one class with her. She’s still giving me my space right now. I think she gets that it hurts too much to be around her. Some of my best memories growing up were when our families were together. I should just suck it up and be her friend. I feel bad that she doesn’t know anyone here, but I just can’t do it right now. Part of me needs her, needs to know that everything will get better. But the other part of me, the bigger part of me, is too damn selfish to focus on our friendship. To focus on anything else other than the giant empty hole inside of me.

  That particular class, English, is the one we’re sitting in right now. The teacher is a bitch, and I think she gets off on seeing her students suffer. I haven’t been subject to her torture, and luckily I’ve flown under her radar so far.

  I’m about ready to turn around and punch the chick behind me in the throat. She’s been nudging me on the shoulder for a good solid thirty seconds. Looking up, I see all eyes turned to me, including the teacher. Shit, what did I miss?

  “Sorry, did I miss something?”

  The older woman purses her lips and stares me down. This woman is such a bitch. She brings the phrase “resting bitch face” up to a whole other level. If she doesn’t want to teach, then why the hell is she here?

  Clearing her throat, she says, “Thank you for joining us, Chloe. I asked what everyone thought about the poem you were supposed to read for homework last night.”

  “Ms. Potter, I don’t think—”

  Even though I’ve been ignoring her, Ashtyn is still coming to my rescue. I interrupt her before she even gets out what she was trying to say. I think I can answer a few questions about some damn poem.

  “No. It’s fine. Which poem was that again?”

  She purses her old lady lips again, and I know I’ve pissed her off at this point. So I didn’t read some stupid poem. I’m sure it will take me all of thirty seconds to read it over and answer whatever stupid questions she has about it. Then I can go on and pretend I’m invisible all over again.

  “Open your book to page three hundred and forty-five. It’s the Emily Dickinson poem.”

  I look around the room and notice everyone else has their books out and open. My face reddens slightly. Way to go, Chloe. No wonder the woman called on me. I pull my book out and open to the page she referred to. Staring right back up at me is, “Because I could not stop for Death.” I’ve never been much of a poetry reader, or a reader in general, but I scan through it quickly.

  Now I get why Ashtyn didn’t want me to read it. My hands are shaking and my eyes are welling up with tears. I swallow that down and then look up at Ms. Potter. She has a blank expression on her face, and I know she’s waiting for me to respond.

  Taking a deep breath, I ask, “What was the question?”

  She lets out a deep sigh and shakes her head. “You should pay better attention in class, Chloe. What do you think the poem means? If you can’t answer that question, I can have someone else answer it. You’ve already wasted enough of our time as it is.”

  I ball my hands into fists underneath my desk. Who does this woman think she is to talk to me like that? She doesn’t know anything about me or what I’ve been through. What gives her the right to be so damn judgmental? I don’t even filter myself when I bark out my response.

  “I will gladly answer your question.”

  I stand up so I don’t have to worry about holding back.

  “Plain and simple, Death is a bitch and Ms. Dickinson knew that. It doesn’t matter how many plans you have in life or if you haven’t done everything you wanted to do. If Death wants you, Death will have you. It fucking sucks, especially for those you leave behind. But you know what? Death doesn’t even care. Death doesn’t have to deal with picking up the pieces after you’re gone or dealing with the wreckage that’s left behind. Death just swoops in and takes you away. Death is a piece of shit.”

  I can feel my whole body shaking, and the tears are pouring out of me now. The entire room is closing in around me an
d my heart is racing. I can hear the BOOM, BOOM, BOOM in my ears. The room is eerily quiet and I don’t even look at anyone else. I pick up my stuff and rush from the room.

  I can hear voices calling behind me, but I just continue running. I don’t know where I’m going, just that I need to get out of there. I need somewhere empty and somewhere quiet. And I know just the place. With it being a holiday weekend, the theater will be empty. I can sit in there and compose myself before I go home with Hudson in an hour.

  I burst into the theater and immediately feel calmer. The smell of the fabric, the coolness of the room, it settles me. The quiet is very zen. My heart rate is slowing down and my breathing is evening out.

  I toss my bag up on the stage and sit with both legs hanging over the ledge. I haven’t stepped foot on it yet, and honestly I figured it would be the last place I needed. Who knew that the one thing I avoided the most would be the one thing I actually need?

  Sitting in here has memories flashing back to me. I don’t want to think about any of that right now, so I grab the pint of 151 I’ve been keeping in my bag for emergencies. This feels like an emergency moment. I open the bottle and feel the horrible burn as it goes down. I wish I had some sort of chaser with me, but I guess I’ll have to settle for the rum flavor until I can no longer taste it. I haven’t touched tequila since the night of the accident, and I don’t plan on changing that anytime soon. The only reason I drink now is to forget.

  Forget that night.

  Forget my life.

  Forget it all.

  The quicker I can become numb, the better. That’s when the happiness sets in and I can feel a little more like normal. The old me comes out a little, and I don’t have to deal with anything real. Deep down I know that’s not helping anything, but it hurts too much to acknowledge anything. It’s hard enough to wake up in the morning sober. Maybe that makes me an alcoholic, or maybe it just makes me sad. Either way I’ll just stay in denial as long as I can.