Chapter Six Hudson
CHAPTER SIX
Hudson
It’s the first day of preseason training, and three weeks since I last had a drink. I was a little too fast and loose that first summer weekend. I shouldn’t have broken my dry spell. That goddamned English accent didn’t help.
But the wake-up call the next morning was enough for me to snap out of it.
I need to keep my focus on the season ahead, my graduate-school applications, and finishing my senior year off strong. It’s not worth a distraction in the form of a pretty woman or a case of cheap beer. Neither have done much for me in the past.
Women always seem to want more. I’m not the guy who’s going to give them that, the kind that will promise to stick around forever or when things get tough. Relationships are too messy, too complicated, and I’d rather have control over my life than give it up for something fleeting.
As Levi and I make our way to the field, the sun climbs high enough to burn off the early-morning chill. The air is filled with the promise of another Nashville summer’s day: hot, humid, and unforgiving. Perfect football weather.
Levi slaps me on the back, grinning as we step onto the pristine grass of the Griffin Park Complex. “Ready to show Wallace we’ve not gone soft over the past few months?”
I chuckle, rolling my shoulders back, the familiar pull of muscles prepped and ready for action. “Always. No reason to doubt us.”
The field is a hive of activity. Coach Wallace is already in full command mode. He’s a stocky man with a voice that could cut through steel, and his presence on the field is as assertive as always.
We gather around him, taking a knee as he outlines the focus for today’s session.
“Gentlemen, welcome back. I hope you’ve all rested well because from this point forward, we’ll be pushing harder than ever.
This season is ours for the taking, but only if we work for it, bleed for it, and fight for every inch on this field. ”
His gaze sweeps over us, lingering just a second longer on me and a few of the other seniors.
Harlen’s our star running back, a powerhouse on the field.
Marcus and Cade, linebackers with a mean streak.
And Ethan, our defensive captain. We’re his veterans, his go-to guys when the game’s on the line.
The weight of that trust sits heavy on my shoulders, but it’s a burden I carry with pride.
“Fox,” Coach nods in my direction, “I expect you to lead by example, on and off the field. We’re starting with drills focusing on agility and speed today, followed by some offensive strategy work. I want everyone sharp, steady.”
Levi nudges me with his elbow, whispering, “Guess we’re up first, man.”
I nod, already mentally preparing for the drills. Agility and speed are crucial for a quarterback and his receiver; the ability to anticipate each other’s moves, to make split-second decisions that can turn the game around.
Coach blows his whistle, signaling the start of the drills.
Levi and I pair up, working closely as always.
Our dynamic on the field is nearly telepathic; after years of playing together, I know his movements almost as well as my own.
As quarterback, my job is to read the defense and find the best path forward, often through Levi’s quick catches and sprints.
We run through a series of high-intensity drills, from ladder exercises meant to improve footwork to cone drills for agility. The heat of the sun is relentless now, sweat plastering my shirt to my back, but it feels good to be moving, to be throwing the ball again with purpose.
After the physical drills, Coach gathers us for a walkthrough of some new plays he’s been cooking up over the summer.
We huddle around him, flipping through the playbook he hands out.
I quickly scan the formations, my mind already racing through the possibilities, the potential challenges, and the triumphs these plays could bring.
“Pay attention to the details,” Coach emphasizes. “It’s the small things that often decide the outcome of a game. Fox, I want you and Montgomery to run the new post-route and wheel-route combo. Let’s see if we can catch the defense off guard with that one.”
Levi gives me a look, a mix of excitement and determination. “Let’s make it seamless,” he says.
We line up, the rest of the team forming the defense. I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the ball in my hands, the anticipation in the air. The snap comes, and muscle memory takes over. I drop back, scanning the field as Levi breaks away from his defender.
With a flick of my wrist, the ball is soaring through the air, a perfect spiral heading straight for Levi. He catches it in his stride, not missing a beat, and darts down the field.
Coach lets out a rare chuckle, clapping his hands. “That’s what I’m talking about! Excellent execution, boys.”
As practice winds down, with muscles aching and shirts drenched in sweat, I’m filled with a sense of pride.
It may be my last season of football, but for now, this is where I belong.
This place where all the distractions of the world fade away, and it’s just the game, my teammates, and the endless possibilities that lie ahead.
Levi claps me on the shoulder as we walk off the field. “Not bad for a first day back, huh?”
“Not bad at all,” I say.
“We should celebrate.”
“You want to celebrate one day back at practice?”
“Is that an issue for you? We haven’t been out in ages, not since that girl rejected you and made you cry.”
“I didn’t fucking cry, dipshit.”
“Hm.” He rubs his chin. “Fairly certain that’s what happened.”
“Well, I’m not drinking this season.”
He stops in his tracks, jaw nearly unhinging. “You’re joking. It’s your senior year.”
“Exactly,” I say. “I’ve got a lot of shit on the line. I secured that letter from Coach, but I’m still waiting on my Classics professor from last fall. I have two pre-reqs to finish up, and I’m applying to ten different master’s programs.”
I partied too much last semester, slept with too many women, and let my grades slip. Levi’s well aware of my lapse in judgment. It was reckless, and I refuse to let it happen again.
He winces. “Isn’t there, like, some sort of common app or something?”
“For Classics ?” I give a snort of disbelief. “Yeah, if only.”
“I have a solution,” he says simply. “Give up. Enter the draft with me.”
“No, thanks. I’ll stick with Sophocles.”
He shakes his head. “Ah, you practical man, you.”
“You’re calling me boring?” I have to admit, I’m a little less reckless, a little less fun, than I let myself be before. Levi’s always been the more impulsive out of the two of us, but I’m usually quick to go along with him. Not anymore.
I’ve got too much riding on this last year: too many goals to hit, too many expectations. I’m determined to see it through, and I can’t afford to lose focus now.
“I’d never say such a thing about my best friend.”
“You just called me a crybaby about five minutes ago,” I say with a snort. “That’s arguably much worse.”
He pats me roughly on the shoulder. “Hudson, buddy, you can’t argue with the truth.”
“No? Am I allowed to argue with the shithead I call my best friend?”
His laughter echoes as we head toward the locker rooms. We quickly strip off our gear, and I mull over his suggestion, albeit briefly.
The idea of entering the draft, of abandoning the path I’ve laid brick by brick, is momentarily tempting.
It would be an easier route, one filled with glory and potential wealth.
But as quickly as the thought comes, it dissipates.
My passion isn’t for the fame that might come from professional sports. It might not suit my persona, but I’m just more interested in the old-school stuff: ancient civilizations, their stories, ruins, and all the things they left behind.
It’s something I’ve been fascinated with since I was a child.
I still remember the first time I read D’Aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths .
It blew my mind. A book that opened up a whole world of gods and heroes, epic quests, and moral dilemmas.
Sports might fail me, and when I’m too worn out to play, at least I’ll still have the classics.
If I can finish graduate school and teach, do some research on the side, then I’ll have achieved what I’ve always wanted. I’ll have built a life centered around these stories, a history that’s always inspired me. Another dream realized.
The shower does little to cool my heated muscles or the whirlwind of my thoughts. As the water rushes over me, I think back to that encounter with Ella. The memory of her, the feel of her skin against mine, and the sound of her voice linger stubbornly in the back of my mind.
I told Levi—and myself—that it was a one-time thing, that I’m focusing on what’s important. But the truth is, I can’t seem to let go of the way we left things. I know I’ll be seeing her around this season, and I’m dreading it.
I’m not sure how to navigate the tension between us. I’ll need to temper my reaction when she’s cheering for us on the sidelines, giving everything she’s got with that fiery determination in her eyes. But it’s more than just her incredible body that I’m attracted to.
It’s the way she carries herself. The way she moves and commands attention. That sexy, subtle confidence that I found so much pleasure in drawing out. I guess my best bet is to simply ignore her. To pretend that night never happened in the first place.
Toweling off, I catch Levi waiting for me, his usual grin in place. “So, about tonight—”
“I told you, I’m laying off,” I cut in before he can launch into what I’m sure would be a persuasive argument.
He holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. But we’re still grabbing dinner, right? My treat.”
The offer is tempting, a chance to unwind after the first day back. “Yeah, but I’m choosing the place.”
“Deal,” he agrees readily. “Burgers, yeah?”
I nod, the corner of my mouth lifting in a half-smile. “Hell, yeah.”