Christina’s POV
I arrived at the studio just after nine.
I couldn’t stop replaying our kiss in the alley. This morning hadn’t helped matters. My lips felt puffy, and I couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot.
Sothing had shifted between us. The carefully maintained distance was gone, replaced by a hunger neither of us seed able to control.
Earlier, I hadn’t even managed to say good morning before Hudson pushed against the wall and kissed like we were trying to break a world record.
Thirty minutes. I counted.
By minute twenty-two, my knees had given out.
By minute twenty-eight, I was seeing stars.
I nearly passed out in his arms, but he didn’t stop until I pushed him away.
After breakfast, when I tried to sneak out, he pinned against the door and spent another ten minutes recreating that delicious haze.
Clearly, the Ice King was dead, replaced by a man who couldn’t keep his hands to himself for more than six minutes.
I should have been annoyed.
Instead, I felt light, warm, like soone had unzipped my ribcage and let sunshine in.
On the way to the studio, I kept grinning, my mouth twitching every ti his face popped into my head.
Priya caught fiddling with my mug by the sink.
"What are you smiling about?" she asked, eyes narrowed.
"Hmm?" I tried to press my lips together, my jaw aching slightly. "Nothing."
She didn’t look convinced. "Well, things are looking up. The Aurette Awards committee just sent an email. You’re back in."
That’s good news, I thought, silently thanking Octavia.
"They’ve officially dropped the disqualification. You’re formally reinstated," Priya grinned. "I printed out the letter. We should fra it."
My smile returned, wider than before.
Priya held up a printed page.
"This is the competition schedule. Location, check-in, rules. Says you’ll be doing live sketching for eight consecutive hours. Eight hours. Have fun with that."
I took the page from her hands, scanning the key points.
The competition was in Riverbend, a few hours’ drive from Highrise.
Not far, but far enough that I’d need a hotel.
"Can you summarize the thes from past years?" I asked. "And the winning pieces. Anything visual. I want to study up."
"Already on it," Priya said, bouncing toward her desk.
I pulled out my phone and sent Octavia a text: [Thank you for getting back in. I owe you dinner, drinks, or both.]
She replied with a thumbs-up emoji.
Before lunch, Daniel ca racing downstairs with an open laptop.
"You’re not going to believe this," he shouted, pushing the laptop toward . "That bracelet you launched? It’s blowing up. Thousands of orders already. Might hit ten thousand by tonight."
I stared at the screen. Order notifications stacked on top of each other in rows. All for the sa bracelet design.
I’d finished it a month ago. Clean lines, matte gold, a small clasp with a hidden hinge.
It had been a stopgap, a quick release product to make up for all the custom projects I lost after Zoe’s tantrum scared away half my clients.
No clients ant no orders. No orders ant no rent.
I’d posted photos of the bracelet online just to feel productive.
For the first few days, nothing. Crickets.
Then, two nights ago, I’d dressed up a bit, snapped so photos with the bracelet on my wrist, and posted them to Instagram and X.
I hadn’t expected anything; it was just routine marketing.
By morning, the comnts had reached ten thousand.
Most comnts weren’t even about the bracelet.
Daniel swore. "Crap, the website crashed! Too many orders, the whole system is jamd."
He rotated the screen.
The browser was stuck on a loading screen, the image pixelated, like a bad livestream.
"It can’t handle this much traffic," he said. "I threw it together last month, cheap and quick. I’ll get soone to fix it."
"It’s fine," I said. "A temporary crash isn’t the worst thing. It’ll slow the impact. We couldn’t fulfill ten thousand orders overnight anyway. Once the money cos in, we’ll pay for a proper site."
The bracelet orders still went through the sa factory Nyx Collective used for production.
The shop could only produce so many pieces per week.
Even with overti, it would take a month to work through the backlog.
But I hadn’t priced them low.
Thousands of sales ant substantial revenue. Enough to give Priya and Daniel raises, with money left over for new materials.
By five, my jaw ached from smiling too much.
Each call brought new numbers. Each email reported more dia interest.
By six, I’d forgotten what silence felt like.
By eight, I could barely keep my eyes open.
Hudson didn’t co ho for dinner like he said he would.
Sohow, I felt a little disappointed.
Just a little? Akira whispered inside .
Alright, more than that, I admitted to her.
Akira had liked Hudson since the mont we t. Maybe I’d had a crush on him from the very start? I didn’t know, and I was too tired to overthink it.
I sat in the living room with so show playing on TV, canned laughter that I wasn’t really listening to.
At so point, I curled up on my side on the couch and drifted off.
I woke to the sound of the door clicking open.
Hudson walked in, head down, fingers tugging at his shirt collar.
I sat up, blinking hard.
He walked past, trailing the scent of whiskey.
"Have you been drinking?" I asked.
"I didn’t have a drop, but everyone else did."
He shrugged out of his jacket, letting it drop to the floor.
As the fabric sank to the ground, the whiskey sll faded too.
He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes.
"There’s warm milk in the kitchen," I said. "Geoffrey made so before he turned in. He wasn’t feeling well, so I sent him to bed early. I’ll get it for you."
I started to rise, reaching for my slippers.
He bent down, one hand pressing on my shoulder, pushing back against the cushions.
"I don’t want milk," he murmured against my lips.
I tried to speak but couldn’t find my voice.
He moved quickly, hands gripping my waist tightly, body pressing against mine, pinning to the couch.
The silk nightgown I’d put on after my shower clung to my body.
He grabbed my hips, pulling the material tighter.
His fingers dug into my skin, just above my waistband.
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