Page 80 of Wilde's End
His gentle fingers turn my face from side to side as he works, and once he’s done with the shaver, he moves on to a small razor. Hair falls away from my cheeks, and I tell myself not to look, but I do it anyway.
The difference is huge. He rubs something over my face before gesturing that he’s done. I tug my hair back from my forehead, taking in the person I haven’t seen this much of in years. In tidying up my beard, Ziggy has revealed the majority of my face. The effect makes me feel naked.
I regret it instantly.
He smiles at me, and I glower back.
“It’s very noticeable.”
A laugh slips from him.
The stark difference is a lot to take in, and I’m almost nervous about Hudson seeing me like this. He’ll think I trimmed my beard for him when I didn’t. At all. I was just ready to tidy it up again. I do it every few months, and him being around doesn’t change that.
Even if this is a bit more than a tidy up.
I run my hand over my jawline, marveling at how smooth and short it is. This is going to take some getting used to. I eyeball the messy curls around my head, remembering how Hudson’s fingers slid into them, and I shake my head.
I’m not cutting my fucking hair.
“Thanks.”
He cleans the shaver equipment and tucks it all away.
I cross my arms and watch him work, remembering what Hudson told me about his brothers. “Kennedy’s bi. By the way.”
Ziggy flicks me an unimpressed look.
“Thought you might be interested. Bit of a romantic from what Hudson says.”
The side of Ziggy’s mouth creeps higher. “You two talk?”
For someone I’ve known for years, this might be the deepest conversation we’ve ever had. Normally, I talk and he listens about crops or fire safety or whatever else the town needs to keep chugging along. Sometimes it’s rants about Foley. But it’s occurring tome now that all the friendships I have here, that the family we’ve all built together, it’s been based on a need to survive. Not necessarily because we know and like each other.
That’s not the case for everyone, of course. Rooney has no issues with people. This is on me and my need to keep things surface level.
So I refuse to do that this time, as hard as it might be.
“Sometimes. Not a lot and not about much. Actually, Hudson is the one who usually does all the talking.”
The glint in Ziggy’s eye tells me he’s not surprised by that.
“Maybe I could try harder, but I don’t actually want to like him. I don’t want to be attracted to him at all, but I can’t control that. Being friends with him is something I still have a say in.”
The hooded-eyes look he gives me makes it clear he doubts that.
“I don’t want to be friendly with someone purposely ruining our lives.”
He shrugs, and I know exactly what he’s saying. Sometimes we don’t have a choice. Sometimes things just are. It’s the reason so many of us ended up here.
Ziggy whispers so quietly I have to strain to hear him. “Maybe friendship will make them stop.”
I blink at him, processing the words because that’s not something I ever considered. It’s not something I think I everwouldhave considered. Why build a friendship when I can try running them out of town instead?
Except that running them out of town didn’t work.
Maybe this is all I have left.
I’m not good at being friends though, and trying it with someone like Hudson, who’s a minefield of bad ideas, makes the whole idea even worse.
