Mess You Made

52.

Malibu.

I'm more familiar to Hudson and Val's beachfront property after visiting the last time but it's still a maze and I still feel I'm not meant to be in a property as luxurious as this one.

The ceilings are so tall that I crane my neck back to look up at them. It makes the whole house airy and open, only complimenting the white and baby blue palette and the whole rich coastal vibe going on.

I glance out of the large screen doors that outlook their massive pool with the sight of Rockaway beach in the distance. Miguel's in the large pool. Benji's on a floatie. The girls are all sat by the poolside.

Luca and Everest are sat at the outdoor table that sits under this fancy canopy thing where the three of them have been for most of the time I've been here. In shorts, shirtless. Diesel's lounging by Luca's long legs, and he occasionally extends a hand, stroking the calmer of the two dogs. I haven't seen the other one.

It still feels strange. Being with this family that are so private, and so tight knit and that I never thought I'd know but I'm here beside them anyways.

I look away once a cup of coffee is placed beside my leg where I sit atop the island in the kitchen. Hudson looks down at me, "Is that enough?"

I nod.

I don't much like coffee— at all, I can drink it but it makes me sick afterwards. I clear my throat as I hold the mug, take a sip and swallow the bitter flavour. It's better than nothing, and I'm not accustomed to making a fuss about food.

I forgot the last time I consumed something to eat, and Miguel somehow caught on when we were outside. The girls were there too, urged me to go with Hudson because he was walking inside to warm a bottle of milk for his baby and so to his annoyance, I had to accompany him. To mine, also. I don't need to be babied.

But it's much quieter in here so I've decompressed a little bit— it's nice out there, with all of them but I still tend to crave quiet.

"Are you sure that's enough?"

I tense, not realising he was still watching me. Stood with his back against his fridge. I tuck one bare leg underneath me, just in my crimson bikini and Miguel's zipup hoodie around my shoulders.

He has the most tattoos I've ever seen on a person. I don't think there's any spare space of his skin. Shadows, tendrils of smoke, a grim reaper over toned muscle. All of them suited to him, all of them somewhat dark asides from the angel wings draped over his shoulders and neck. Hudson Tempest is one of those rare boys that isn't just attractive or baseline hot, but honestly beautiful enough to turn heads. Angelic and startling features.

"Yes." I say, tenser than I mean to say, "It's fine."

His eyes are like sandpaper— abrasive, and rough and like lasers and I've never been around someone that can make you so uneasy with just a flat gaze.

"When did you last eat?"

"Huh?" I look down to the coffee.

"Food." He reiterates.

"Last night."

Hudson glances at the clock on the wall behind me and his gaze narrows, "It's seven p.m. The next day."

I lift a shoulder, "I don't get much of an appetite when I work and I had a shift last night. And then— graduation this morning, it's been busy."