Page 33 of Artfully Wild
Soooooo, tell me where we are going? Should I eat before we go?
Little Sparrow
Eat before a date?
Well, I don’t know!! You’ve told me nothing. It’s past noon and I’m hungry. Should I eat lunch or not? I thought there were NO secrets between us. I feel betrayed.
Little Sparrow
Dramatic.
A knock sounds causing the animals to scatter off the bed and crowd through my open bedroom door. Two of the dogs start barking the second they reach the front door, as the cats gointo hiding in the spare room in hopes they can attack anyone that might risk going anywhere near the bed.
I hiss as my feet come into contact with the cold wood floor. The iciness seeps into my skin and I grab a discarded pair of socks by the bedside table before walking through the animals to get to the front door. But by the time I get to the middle of the living room, I realize all I’m wearing are black socks and boxers with a pattern of Frank—the parrot, not the human—scattered across the fabric.
Attractive.
But these were a gift from Skylar, so it’s only fair she sees how ridiculous I look with them on. I plaster on a grin, wondering what her reaction will be. If it’s anything like the one from last night when I was only in sweatpants, this might not be so embarrassing.
I open the door, immediately searching for those light brown eyes with a splatter of freckles in between. Except I am met with eyes the same shape as Skylar’s, but the wrong color.
I was incorrect in thinking this wouldn’t be embarrassing. I might actually be traumatized from this. If I ever go to therapy in the near future, they’ll pinpoint this exact moment for the source of my trauma. The green eyes of Hudson Waters look down my torso in an immense amount of amusement, and his lips pull into a tight line as he tries—and fails—to hold in a laugh bubbling to the surface. He doesn’t try too hard to hide it and it boils over, filling the icy air on the porch with his deep voice.
“What in the hell—are those, Sinclair?” he gets out between bursts of laughter.
“A gift from your sister,” I say, puffing out my chest slightly and popping out a hip. If he’s going to see them, I might as well make sure I look good in them. They may be absolutely ridiculous, but he doesn’t need to know I think that. A gift fromSkylar is a gift I will wear proudly. But maybe not in front of her brother next time.
“Sky definitely knows your style.” Reigning in his laughter, Hudson nudges his way in and to the kitchen to help himself to the coffee maker on the counter, filling it with water and starting a fresh pot.
“Sure, make yourself at home. Would you like some coffee?” I offer in a sarcastic tone that could rival Skylar’s.
“Ah, thank you. I’d love some,” he says without breaking his methodical movements of preparing the filter and the grounds. Once the coffee maker gargles, signaling it’s working, Hudson turns around and leans back on the counter, crossing his arms and trying his best to…I think be intimidating?
“Am I about to get the big brother talk?” I figure it’s better to jump right into it rather than waiting for him to say anything.
“Yes,” he answers. “But I’d rather not do it while you’re wearing bird boxers. Go put some pants on.”
Rolling my eyes, I listen to him and go to my dresser for jeans, grabbing a blue sweatshirt with the Oregon State University logo on the front of it.
There are two mugs on the kitchen island when I come back, steam rising from them before it disappears into the air.I take the one closest to me, another piece of OSU memorabilia, a beaver smiling between the blocky letters.
I can feel his eyes boring into me as I take a sip, ready for this conversation to be over.
“What are your intentions with my sister?”
I almost choke at the ridiculous line—usually reserved for fathers—that leaves his mouth. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not going to repeat myself, Sinclair.”
“Really, Hudson? I don’t think this is necessary and since when have you called me Sinclair?”
“Since you decided to date my sister.”
Adjusting the neck of the sweatshirt, I can’t help but let asmile grow on my lips. Because how lucky am I to finally say that I am dating Skylar Waters?
“Look,” he says, placing his mug back on the island across from mine as he leans in on his elbows.
“I know you have held some kind of flame for her since you were teenagers.” Before I go to deny anything, he holds up one hand, cutting me off. “Don’t even try to say you haven’t. You forget that you hung around our house probably more than you did this one.” He nods to our surroundings and I don’t even have the ability to disagree with him, because, as much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. With my dad gone a lot and my mom doing everything she could to keep the flower shop running, I was home alone more than I cared to be. The Waters were always willing to feed me dinner and invite me to family events and to be there for me if I needed them.
