Mess You Made

15.

Miguel.

I managed to convince the receptionist to call the backup contact instead, rattled off something about how my brother's training right now and he won't pick up. Then her eyes did this routinely dreamy thing, and she asked me if it's Hernandez, the boxer — and I just stared at her because she's a middle aged woman, and I feel like this whole thing of him getting traction is starting to get out of hand.

The traction's mainly in New York City, everyone knows him here and it hasn't extended outside of the city yet, thankfully. They've predicted that once he starts doing world champs with the agency he's signed to, that'll change, which is difficult to imagine. Luca's always been renowned wherever he goes but fame because of his sport is a whole other spectrum to tackle.

I breathe out a long breath now and tip my head back against the seat, staring up at the ceiling.

I should probably feel more stressed than I do.

Malibu Júlia Adams is a pretty name, though, that's what my mind's stuck on instead. Malibu Júlia. Rolls of the tongue quite nicely, it especially rolled off her tongue when she said it in that little accent she has. She looks real good in a driver's seat, by the fucking way. Really good, in that little white tank and the bottom of her midriff showing, just enough for me to see the gold bellybutton and the smooth planes of her skin.

Want to talk to her again.

Just talk, and see where it goes, and what she tells me and what she keeps from me and if she's gonna keep looking at me like she shouldn't want me.

I think I'm a big fan of Malibu Júlia Adams.

I tense slightly when I hear a familiar engine that's rough, and loud. It doesn't belong near school grounds but it's not like he'll give a fuck. It's too rough of an engine to be a car, it sounds like that signature sharp snarl instead of the rolling roughness of a car engine. So I bide my time and debate whether it was a smart decision, swapping out one brother for a meaner one, but I stand by it.

Might not, in a second.

It isn't long before I feel him there, even if he doesn't speak and then he's dominating the air around him as soon as he walks in. He doesn't pass me a glance. Hudson's always had an air to him that makes people uneasy - he's 6'4, a face as sharp as scythes, the third counterpart to my brothers and all of that, but it's this underlying subtle air that nobody has. Not like him, not how he does it.

I suppose that's why he's always been my favourite card to pull.

People have always been weary of Luca's explosive anger, and worried about what chaos Everest could cause, but there's this unsettling, sort of silent fear Hudson carries with him at all times, like a weapon he never has to unsheath and people don't understand.

Black hoodie, zip open. Hood half slung over his head just enough to reveal the black as ink hair, and the eyes that are deadset, dark blue and he's like a living ghost, in this weird sense. His tattooed fingers tuck the keys to his Ducati in his back pocket.

It's what's weird about him. Girls used to be so drawn to him. Like really weirdly. Like wouldn't shut up about him. Subconsciously knew they shouldn't want him, and didn't dare try to be all over him unless he specified. He has, like, weirdly angelic features, looks a bit sculpted, the rare shade of his eyes. But manages to look soulless to the naked eye. Darkened. It's this weird anomaly of someone so beautiful being so repelling of people, you know?

So, my favourite card to pull. Especially with teachers. Most people just lose their sense of self preservation around him, do as he says and I never lose if Hudson's here. You'll see. On this occasion, I definitely can't lose because I can't get kicked out so this is my only choice.