Chapter Eight Hudson
CHAPTER EIGHT
Hudson
My room, usually a sanctuary, feels more like a prison cell as I pore over my personal statement. Each new sentence is a shovel digging up parts of my past I’ve buried deep over the years. Truths about my family, my upbringing, that I’d rather not think about.
Sourdough is lounging at the foot of my bed, seemingly unaffected by my turmoil. I suppose he’s used to my unique brand of drama. And having him here with me, that’s at least a small comfort.
I read over the sentence about the night my father left, the echo of the door slamming shut still loud in my memory.
I pause, fingers hovering over the keys, and I can almost smell the smoke from the fire that claimed our family home.
The screen blurs, a tightness in my chest reminding me that some wounds are stitched together but never fully heal.
A knock shatters the silence before Levi barges into my room. “Hey, buddy ol’ pal, what are you doing?” he asks, his tone too cheerful for my current mood. Sourdough lifts his head, eyeing him warily.
“Working,” I grunt.
He saunters in, unfazed by my curt response. “On what?”
“What do you think?”
The moment he walked in, my walls snapped back into place. I was on the verge of feeling something, letting my guard down long enough to process the past—but Levi’s interruption has pulled me right back into the role I play for everyone else.
The guy who’s got his shit together. Who doesn’t let anyone see what’s really going on inside.
“Applications again?” He leans against the wall, casually flipping a pen between his fingers. “Which circle of academic hell are we contemplating today?
“The one that gets me accepted.” I sigh, glancing over at him. “Most of the apps are due early December. I need extra time for funding and assistantships.”
Sourdough jumps off the bed and pads over to Levi, demanding his attention. “So, they’re due in … three and a half months?”
“Good math, bud.” I rub my temples, a headache building. “You don’t get it. I’m working on ten different versions of a personal statement tailored to each fucking school. That takes time.”
“How boring.”
He’s right, of course, and it’s a fact that pisses me off even more.
But that’s Levi for you—straightforward, unfazed by everything that doesn’t directly involve a football or a clear path downfield.
His ability to lighten the mood, no matter how dark the room, is one of the reasons we clicked almost instantly.
Our freshman year, we were thrown together by a shared dream and a relentless drive to make something of ourselves. Levi, with his laser-focused ambition of going pro as a receiver, has always had this unshakable belief in the future he wants.
And me? I’m the quarterback who’s always had one eye on the field and the other on the life that stretches beyond it.
Maybe it’s because I’ve spent my whole life trying to prove I’m more than just my dad’s legacy.
More than the pressure that comes with it.
Football’s always been the easy part. It’s the other stuff—the expectations, the constant need to prove my worth—that makes me shut people out.
But that’s what works in my dynamic with Levi. We thrive on this balance. He pushes me to stay present, rooted in the moment, while I draw his attention to the world outside the end zone.
“Right,” I scoff. “And Oxford’s app is actually due mid-November, so—”
“Oxford, eh?” he interjects with a smirk. “This obsession with Ella has really got to stop, man.”
“Okay, get out,” I snap, the last of my patience fraying. Sourdough meows in agreement.
“Aw, come on,” he says with a sly grin. “I know you two already had ‘the talk,’ but it’s time for you to move on.”
I told him about Ella confronting me, and the man can’t seem to let it go.
He likes to rib me, to stir the pot just to see what boils over.
But deep down, we both know that my involvement with Ella, if it can even be called that, was nothing more than a blip on the radar.
Despite the fact he’s determined to turn the situation into a running joke.
My chin tips toward the door. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“Well, did you know they’re back from camp already?” he asks, blatantly ignoring me.
“Why would I care?”
He raises his eyebrows suggestively. “Because I’m gonna go hang out with Sam and Gabs, and … whoever else she might bring along . I thought you’d be interested.”
“Since when are you and Gabi so tight?”
He pockets his pen. “She and Sammy are close.”
“Your girlfriend?”
He wrinkles his nose. “Oh, she’s not my—we’re not …”
“Together?” I finish for him, a smirk playing on my lips now.
He shifts awkwardly. “Right.”
“Because the cheerleaders are supposed to be off-limits?” I ask, and this time it’s more out of curiosity than a need to serve him a taste of his own medicine. “Or because of Claire?”
That history is the sort of tangled web that makes you glad it’s theirs, not yours. They grew up together, their families as close as could be in a town where everyone’s business is public knowledge.
When they both got into Whitland, it wasn’t a surprise; they were a package deal, after all.
But something shifted freshman year. Claire started to distance herself, her demeanor cooling until she was more ice queen than friend.
Not just because of her position on the squad, but because of something he did—something neither of them ever talks about.
A secret that hangs between them, unspoken but impossible to ignore.
Now, they’re like ships passing in the night—occasionally spending time together out of necessity or for old times’ sake. Levi masks it well, but I’ve seen the way he looks at her even now, with a mix of nostalgia and something sharper. Something like regret.
“Okay, now you’re just throwing out names for no reason.” He shakes his head, an attempt to mask how flustered he is. “Do you want to come with us or not? We’re going to Sarabha’s for ice cream.”
“Fuck, fine.” That’s a deal I simply can’t pass up. “But you’re buying.”
He places a hand over his heart. “Oh, you know I’d love nothing more.”
Sarabha’s is packed when we arrive, Whitland students crowding the counter as they order their mango milkshakes and double scoops of chai spice. Levi cranes his neck, scanning the room until his face lights up.
“There they are,” he says, grabbing my arm and pulling me along.
I spot the group tucked into a couch along the far wall—Gabi, Sam, and sure enough, Ella. She’s mid-laugh, head tipped back, a radiant smile on her face. Something in my chest twists at the sight. Her hair is loose today, falling in gentle waves over her shoulders.
But her laughter fades as her gaze lands on me. A flicker of annoyance crosses her features, and then she schools them, smoothing over all the crinkles and lines I seem to have created.
Levi drags me over, oblivious as always. “Hey! Fancy seeing you here.”
Gabi rolls her eyes affectionately. “ You invited us.”
“Nah,” he says, waving her off, “pretty sure it was the other way around.”
Sammy shuffles down the couch to create some space. We pause for a moment, trying to figure out how to arrange ourselves comfortably. Levi manages to squeeze onto the couch himself, leaving no more room for me. I quickly grab a chair from another table and settle into it.
“Tell us about camp?” Levi asks.
The girls launch into a quick recap of the highlights. They toss around terms that would lose most people, but I’m following along just fine. I understand the lingo more than they realize.
Despite the fact that I’m tracking, catching the nuances of their conversation, my attention keeps drifting back to Ella.
The way she gestures animatedly with her hands, the excitement sparking in her eyes.
She has a smudge of something chocolate on her cheek, and I kind of like the way she looks when she’s all frazzled.
It’s how she was the night she came up to me at Sidetrack, and what drew me to her in the first place. Sexy but a little unpolished. Confident but slightly chaotic. A woman who captivated me with the first brash words out of her mouth.
A nudge from Levi jerks me out of my daydream and into the present. “Dude, what do you want?”
I blink as everyone’s expectant faces turn to me. “Oh, uh, butterscotch,” I say. “Cup, not cone.”
Levi raises an eyebrow but heads to the counter without comment. An awkward silence settles over the table in his absence.
Ella clears her throat, shifting in her seat. “So, how’s training going? You must be gearing up for the season now, right?”
“Yep, two-a-days started last week,” I say. “Lots of conditioning and drills to get through before we run plays.”
“I bet you’re excited to get back on the field,” she replies.
“Definitely.” I nod, rubbing my palm along my thigh. My hands are clammy. “It’ll be good to get into a routine again. Keep me focused. Will, uh, will next weekend be your first time at a football game? You know, with the squad and all?”
“Not exactly. We have American football at Oxford.”
I crack a smile. “No shit?”
“Yeah, we even have our own Varsity Bowl. I think there are about … six games total in a season.”
I grin. “Brutal.”
She huffs a laugh. “Extremely.”
“And your old squad cheered for them?”
“For major events, yeah,” she says, and I notice a subtle shift in her demeanor. A glazed-over look in her eyes that tells me she doesn’t exactly relish the experience.
“Not your cup of tea?”
“Ella’s already jonesing for the competition season,” Gabi interjects, tossing an arm over her roommate’s shoulders. “Spirit squad doesn’t quite meet her standards.”
“Oh, come off it. I’m biding my time as well as I can,” Ella says. “Besides, there are regional competitions in December. That’s not very far off.”
“Three and a half months,” I mumble under my breath.
Her eyes narrow. “What was that, Hudson?”
“No, I actually agree with you,” I say. “It’s closer than you’d think.”
Her brow softens, and she leans back against the couch. “Good to know we’re on the same page about something.”
Levi returns before I have the chance to ask her what she means. He’s balancing a massive waffle bowl filled to the brim with mint chocolate ice cream, and the tiniest little butterscotch cone I’ve ever seen.
“What the hell is that?” I ask.
He hands it over, nonplussed. “Your ice cream, Hudsy. Can I get a thank you?”
“Did you not hear me saying I wanted a cup?”
“Oh, well, you can have my bowl when I’m done with the waffle part.”
I hold up the minuscule cone. “But … why is it so tiny?”
“What? Nah, that,” he holds his fingers up to measure about three inches. “That’s huge.”
I snort, and the women across from us give him some form of pity laughter.
Levi thinks he’s being funny, self-deprecating in a charming way, but we all know a man that size wouldn’t dare joke about it.
Unfortunately, I’ve seen what he’s packing, and it’s not comparable to the teeny-tiny cone in my hand.
“It’s Friday night,” I grumble. “I just finished writing over three thousand words, and my brain is officially fried. Can we save the dick jokes for later?”
“Buzzkill.” He squeezes back into a spot on the couch—this time smack dab in the middle—and takes an exaggerated lick from his spoon. “You know what you need right now?”
“An adult-sized ice cream?”
He tosses one arm over Sammy’s shoulders, and his other over Gabi’s. “Nope. I think the five of us should drive out to the Stardust.”
Sammy perks up in her seat, tilting her head to meet Levi’s gaze. “The outdoor movie theater?”
He bops her on the nose. “That’s the one.”
I groan. “But it’s nearly an hour away.”
Levi pulls out his phone to check the time.
He scrolls for a bit, the corner of his mouth ticking up in a smile.
“It’s only a forty-minute drive,” he says.
“Perfect amount of time for us to hit the second show in a double feature. Hudson’s choice, of course.
We can either sit through a DreamWorks movie or the new Jason Statham. ”
I roll my eyes. “The five of us will barely fit in my truck.”
Ella sits straighter, her eyes darting between the rest of us. “You know, I should probably sit this one out,” she starts, fumbling with the hem of her shirt. “This has been nice, but I don’t want to cramp your style—”
“No way,” I interject before she can finish her excuse. I’m not sure why, but making her feel welcome seems important to me. “If I’m being roped into this, then we’re all going. It’s Jason Statham or bust.”
She hesitates, biting her lip. “But your truck …”
Levi waves off her concern with a dismissive hand. “We’ll make it work. Besides, it’s not a proper movie night without a bit of a squeeze.”
Sammy and Gabi nod in agreement, and Ella’s resistance begins to crumble under the weight of collective peer pressure.
“You sure?” she asks in a quiet voice.
“Yep,” I say. “It’s settled. We’re all going.”
Her gaze meets mine, searching for a sign of insincerity perhaps, but all she finds is an earnest invitation. Slowly, a tentative smile breaks through.
“Alright,” she concedes. “If you’re sure there’s room.”
Levi claps his hands together, a grin spreading across his face. “Hell, yeah,” he says. “We’re going to Stardust.”