Chapter Twelve Hudson
CHAPTER TWELVE
Hudson
I’m officially done celebrating for the night. It’s time to pry my roommate away from his non-girlfriend and lug him back to my truck. I spot them across the room, Levi’s boisterous laugh cutting through the noise of the party. Sammy’s giggling along with him, her red curls bouncing as she does.
“Come on, man,” I say, clapping Levi on the shoulder. “Time’s up.”
“Aw, Hudsy.” He’s slurring a little, grinning up at me. “Don’t go all mother hen on me now.”
“I’m your DD. It’s my right,” I say, helping him to his feet. Sammy steadies herself against a nearby table. “Do you need a ride too, Sam?”
She waves me off. “Nope, my roommate’s here somewhere.”
“Okay, text Levi if you run into trouble,” I say. “I can always come back.”
She gives me a grateful smile. Levi ruffles her hair, murmurs a quick goodbye, and then I guide him out the front door. As we leave, I catch a flash of dark brown hair in my peripheral vision. It’s Ella, sitting on a bench with her stunt partner, heads close together in conversation.
I invited her to this party with every intention of spending some time together—teasing her, flirting with her, maybe even finding an excuse for something more.
But seeing her again in a new light, watching her dance, listening to her chew me out …
Well, it frustrates me no end, though I’m struggling to understand why.
An unexpected twist of regrets stirs inside of me. I linger in the driveway while Ash stands and extends his hand to her. She takes it, letting him pull her to her feet. The easy trust between them grates on me, too.
“Hey, man.” Levi’s voice pulls me back from my thoughts. He’s blinking up at me with drunken confusion. “What’re we doing?”
I tear my eyes away from her, forcing a shrug. “Nothing. Let’s go home.”
He grumbles something unintelligible in response, and we stumble our way into the warm Nashville night. The ride back to our place is mostly silent. Levi dozes off in the passenger seat halfway through the journey, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
It’s hard to shake off the pang of … what, jealousy? Annoyance? Intrigue? I can’t deny that I wanted to be the reason Ella came to the party tonight. To share a laugh with her, to be the one to make her eyes light up. Instead, I found myself retreating, thrown off by the intensity of my attraction.
There’s something about Ella that pulls me in, makes me want to be around her, even if it messes with my head.
This feeling is new, and I’m not sure I like it.
We shared a few moments, sure, but that shouldn’t mean anything.
Yet my mind keeps replaying images of her and Ash together, and their obvious connection.
It gnaws at me more than I want to admit. Not because I think something’s going on there—she’s a straight shooter, after all—but because I think the two of us could have had something, too, if the circumstances were different.
I may want her in just the way she assumes I do, but I just … can’t. Not right now. There are so many things that make it impossible. I’ve never been good at letting people in. There’s too much to lose—too many risks, too many scars still not healed.
It’s not just about a fear of mixing personal issues with my plans for the future either; there’s also the matter of her technically being off-limits. I don’t want to put us in a position that risks the wrath of both our coaches.
I pull into our driveway and park the truck.
Levi’s snoring gently now, his head lolling to one side.
I nudge him awake and help him inside, where he collapses onto the couch without bothering to take off his shoes.
I cover him with a throw blanket, double-check every light switch and outlet in the house, and then head to my room.
I check on Sourdough too, refreshing his water and topping off his food before I collapse onto the bed.
My mind spins with what-ifs and could-have-beens.
This constant spiral is just part of how my brain operates.
I’ve come to understand that I tend to dwell on details, always analyzing and rehashing, struggling to let go even when I know I should.
Obsessive to a fault, one might call it.
It doesn’t matter that I’ve tried to maintain my focus, to be driven about where I’m headed and what I need to do to get there.
That I cut out alcohol, and women (for the most part), along with every other distraction that might derail my plans.
Because Ella … she still manages to throw me off.
To make me reconsider paths I thought were set in stone.
I know that it’s my dreams for the future, and the shadows of my past, that truly hold me back from letting others in. And maybe Ella doesn’t like games, or so she tells herself. But life has a funny way of making sure we’re all players, whether we like it or not.
First day back, and already campus is buzzing with that unique kind of energy only a new semester can stir up.
I’m heading to my anthropology lecture, determined to start off on the right foot as I push through the doors of the lecture hall.
It’s a scramble for seats as everyone finds their place, but my eyes catch Ella almost immediately.
I wasn’t expecting to share a classroom with her this term. It’s both a surprise and a challenge. Another twist that complicates my carefully laid plans.
She’s up front, all business, her notebook already open and her pen poised at the ready. She’s so intently focused on the blank screen ahead that I wonder if she’s already downloading the lecture telepathically.
I know she feels my stare, though, because there’s a brief moment when our eyes lock—hers widen just slightly—and then she’s ducking her head, a curtain of hair falling to shield her face from mine.
What the hell do I do now? I could sit anywhere, but the decision feels weighted. I opt for bold, taking the seat right behind her. She keeps her gaze fixed forward, the very picture of studious disregard, and it amuses me.
There are still a few minutes before the lecture kicks off, and I can’t resist trying to snag her attention.
“Hey,” I whisper, aiming for playful but probably landing on annoying.
Nothing. Time for a different approach. I let my pencil clatter to the floor with more drama than necessary and lean forward.
“Uh, Ella?”
She spins around then, whisper-shouting in a fierce hiss, “What! What do you want, Hudson?”
“What are you doing after the lecture?”
She rolls her eyes. “Training. Now be quiet. It’s my first day of classes. I don’t need you bothering me.”
“Can we talk before your practice?”
“No.”
“Please.”
She sighs deeply, resigned. “Fine. But not another word until the clock strikes eleven.”
“You got it.” I lean back, a smug smile playing on my lips, pleased with the minor victory.
The professor strides in then, signaling the start of the lecture.
It’s syllabus week, sure, but Human Landscapes is an upper-level course.
No gentle introductions here; we dive straight into the complexities of human—environment interactions.
I try to focus, I really do, but part of my brain is ticking down the minutes until I can talk to Ella properly.
It doesn’t help that she’s seated right in front of me.
Her dark, silky hair cascades over her shoulders in soft waves.
Every time she shifts in her seat, the scent of her shampoo—cherry vanilla—drifts back to me.
It’s impossible to concentrate. I find myself staring at the curve of her neck, wondering how soft her skin might feel just there.
Finally, the clock grants me reprieve. As the students filter out, Ella lingers by the door. We both play it cool, awkwardly shuffling until the coast is clear. This is a whole new experience for me, being so thrown off by a woman that I can’t even think straight. It’s unnerving.
“How are you?” I ask, the words feeling clunky in my mouth as I scratch at the back of my neck.
Her expression is cold, eyes narrowed slightly, lips pressed into a thin line.
She’s putting up every wall possible, and it’s obvious she’s still irritated by my actions the other night.
“You made your intentions clear at the party on Saturday. And I believe I did as well. So, why don’t you follow through and forget anything between us ever happened? ”
“I’m sorry,” I say, and it feels like the most inadequate apology ever. “Don’t get it twisted, Ella. I’m attracted to you, too. And I like this thing we have going on, but I—”
“Right, you can’t . Again, I heard you the first time.”
“It’s just not a good idea for us to get involved. Our coaches would be pissed, and we’re on completely different tracks. Neither of us can afford the distraction right now. I think we should be friends, though.”
“Friends?” she scoffs. “We’d tear each other limb from limb.”
“Yet you seem to think that works in the bedroom.” She raises an eyebrow knowingly, and I can’t help but grin. “What am I saying? Of course, it does.”
“Do you have a point to all this?” she asks.
I snort a laugh. “My point is, I wanted to apologize for leaving you hanging at the party. I really like how straightforward you are. You go after what you want, and that’s a quality I admire.
So, even if we’re not, you know, gonna hook up again,” my voice drops, “I think there’s something drawing us together. We shouldn’t ignore it.”
She rubs her temple. “Ergo, you’re proposing friendship.”
“Or … a truce of sorts.”
She snorts, the hint of a smirk tugging at her lips despite herself. “I’ve kind of reached my quota on male friendships already. Besides, the two of us, we’ve got nothing in common. What would we even talk about?”
“This class, for one. Cheer, for two.”
“Cheer?” She laughs, genuinely amused. “Right, well, let me answer all your questions now. Yes, we do look very nice in our skirts. Yes, I do sleep with my pom-poms on a shelf by my bed. And no, I don’t wear the uniform while I—”
“I used to cheer, too,” I cut in. “Competitively.”
Her brow furrows. “You?”
“Me.” I guide her to a quieter corner of the anthro building, gesturing to a bench. We sit. “I’ve always loved football. Grew up playing with my dad and his buddies. When my younger brother was old enough, he joined in, too. I was damn good at it. A legacy of sorts.
“But when my dad left us, I stopped playing for a while. I needed a new outlet. My mom got us an old trampoline from the neighbors, and I’d be on that thing until way past dark every night. I learned all sorts of flips and jumps, but it still wasn’t enough.”
She cracks a smile. “It never is, is it?”
“Exactly,” I say. “My mom took me to this gymnastics place nearby, an all-star gym. One of the cheer coaches found me there, and that’s how I got sucked in.
Learned to be a tumbler and a base. We didn’t have much money, but I was good, and they wanted me on the team, anyway.
I trained for six more years after that. ”
She gives me a quizzical look. “Wow, that’s … almost hard to believe.”
“What? You don’t think I look like the type?”
“You might, but you sure don’t act like it.” She pauses for a beat before continuing. “What made you quit?”
“Junior year of high school, they needed more players on our football team. No one knew I cheered, and I was over my deadbeat dad already. I thought, ‘Why the hell not?’ And what do you know, I was still damn good. By senior year, I was the starting quarterback on our varsity team. I knew it was the best way for me to get a full ride to a place like Whitland, so I went all in. Never looked back.”
“You haven’t cheered since?”
“Not for a second.”
She contemplates this for a long moment, the gears clearly turning in her head. It’s a slow softening of her irritation, like she’s letting her guard down piece by piece. “And you’re serious about us trying out this whole friend thing?”
“I am.”
“If I’m being honest, your rejection the other night hurt me. On the back of a brutal breakup, it felt like another punch to the gut. But in the spirit of letting things go and moving forward, I guess we can try being friends.” She tilts her chin. “On one condition.”
I gulp, grateful for the second chance. “You name it.”
“You come to Skyline and show me what you’ve got.”
A corner of my mouth twitches. “You testing me, Davies?”
She grins. “Making sure you earn your keep, that’s all.”
“Alright then. You’ve got yourself a deal,” I say, and then we shake on it. The deal is officially sealed.