Chapter Six Hudson #2
Pharmacy Burger is less than a ten-minute drive from our house. It’s one of the best places to eat in Nashville, and my go-to spot when I need a quick pick-me-up.
There’s something comforting about the familiar, if not a bit kitschy, interior that greets us—a mix of retro pharmacy cabinets and modern touches that somehow works.
Tonight, the beer garden is bustling, filled with the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses under strings of twinkling lights. We snag a table, the wooden surface warm under the summer sky, and Levi wastes no time flagging down a server for menus.
“Two Pharmacy Burgers, medium, and a pitcher of Yazoo Hefe,” he orders with the confidence of someone who’s made this request many times before.
Our teammates, Marcus and Harlen, join us not long after, pulling up chairs with easy smiles. Marcus is a tower of muscle with a penchant for practical jokes, and Harlen’s one of the quickest players on the team. A man with a laugh that’s sometimes a bit too loud for public spaces.
When I pass the pitcher without filling my own glass, Marcus cocks a questioning brow. “You’re still not drinking?”
“He’s buckling down, boys,” Levi says, answering for me.
They laugh, and I roll my eyes. “Camp is coming up. Besides, I’m not interested in passing out in bushes like some of you.”
“That was one fucking time,” Harlen grumbles, crossing his arms. Though his annoyance is undercut by the smirk he can’t quite hide. “You never let a man forget his mistakes.”
Marcus ribs him. “Hey, he didn’t bring up the time we were busted after homecoming. If I’m remembering correctly, you insisted the cop was flirting with you and then tried to slip your number into her pocket.”
Harlen’s eyes widen, and he jabs a finger in Marcus’s direction. “You and I both know that was some sort of entrapment. Also, she was hot.”
As everyone erupts into laughter, the smell of our burgers hits me, instantly making my mouth water. I take a few bites, savoring the taste, but halfway through, my focus narrows to the entrance of the beer garden. The noise around us fades as two familiar faces head straight toward us.
The girls are dressed casually. Gabi, in a bright yellow sundress. Ella, in a simple off-white shirt and jeans that fit her perfectly. A classic look, not overly suggestive, but just enough to drive me wild.
I have no clue how she’s managed to crawl inside my head like this, especially after just one night. But I’d be lying if I said she didn’t affect me.
Instinctively, my head tilts back, eyes skyward, as I silently beg for some sort of divine intervention. God, help me now . I should’ve known better than to think I could avoid her indefinitely.
Levi, ever oblivious to my internal crisis, waves them over with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “Hey, Gabs! Over here! Who’s your friend?”
Ella steps forward, a determined look in her eyes. “Hey, I’m Ella,” she says, throwing a brief pointed glance my way.
“Levi,” he replies, eyes lighting up as he introduces the rest of us. I stay silent, offering her nothing more than a slight nod, a silent acknowledgment of her presence, then glare at my friend, a clear warning to shut his mouth before he can make an already awkward situation unbearable.
He catches the look, his eyes darting between Ella and me with a sly smile, the cogs turning as he pieces together the tension. I know he’s planning to lean into the discomfort, ready to say something undoubtedly foolish.
But before he can speak, Harlen interjects with a story about his disastrous attempt at wakeboarding on the North Carolina coast, diverting the attention away from us. I take a long, measured sip of my shake.
That singular night we shared flashes through my mind again, a hurricane of desire and regret. It’s been three weeks, but the memory of her in my bed still lingers. The taste of her, the smell of her, the little sounds she made when I—
Fuck , I can’t let myself go there. As their conversation continues, I force myself to tune out. Instead, I think about Sourdough. What is my cat up to on this warm summer evening?
But then, a gentle breeze picks up, drawing my attention back to the present, to Ella.
Her long dark hair is pulled back in a half-up style.
The silky front pieces are fluttering slightly in the wind, a white bow securing the others neatly at the back.
As my gaze drifts, I notice a small, almost imperceptible beauty mark along her jawline—a detail I hadn’t caught the other night.
She’s dressed down, but even now, it’s obvious she’s toned from years of being an athlete.
I suppose it helps to know, quite intimately, the contours of her body beneath her clothes, the way she moved with me, against me.
Despite my best efforts to ignore it, it’s impossible to deny the electricity crackling between us.
Sparks zap through me when our eyes catch, and for a brief moment I entertain the idea that it could mean something more, a part of me longing to find out.
But that’s ridiculous. The way I’m feeling now is just residual irritation.
A pang of annoyance from our awkward morning-after manifesting itself as attraction.
It’s for good reason that Coach Wallace enforces the no-fraternization rule. It keeps the boundaries clear. No room for confusion. No complications. No distractions, least of all for the quarterback en route to grad school.
I’m lost in my thoughts when Levi’s voice cuts through. “Hey, bud, do you want something other than beer? We’re gonna order another round of Hefe.”
“Yeah, but who knows where our server is,” I grumble, seizing the opportunity for a break. I stand, stretching my legs. “I’ll go grab you some more drinks. One pitcher or two?”
He fishes some cash out of his wallet and hands it over. “Grab two so we don’t need to go back.”
With a determined stride, I make my way to the bar, dodging through the crowded restaurant. Once I’m there, I lean in and flash my most charming smile, hoping to catch the attention of a server darting between orders. Eventually, I make eye contact with the young waiter.
“Excuse me, can I get two pitchers of the Hefeweizen you have on tap?”
“Coming right up,” he answers. “I can have your server bring it out to you if you’d like?”
“No need,” I say. “I’ll wait here.”
As I stand at the bar, I let out a sigh of relief, grateful for a moment away from our table. The atmosphere is still lively and vibrant, but it’s nice to have a break from all the noise. From the tension I’ve drummed up inside my head.
Finally, my order’s ready. I grab their pitchers and turn to retreat to our wooden refuge. But once I’m flipped around, I freeze in my tracks. Because Ella’s right there, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed into slits. And boy, she does not look happy to see me.
“Hudson,” she says. “Let’s talk.”