Chapter Thirty-Five Hudson
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Hudson
As January draws to a close, we’re all on the edge of our seats, eagerly awaiting the announcement of the partner-stunt qualifiers.
The entire team is gathered on the mats, laptops and phones at the ready, fingers poised to refresh the NCA website.
Conversations are hushed, nervous laughter punctuates the silence, and the occasional beep of a notification has everyone snapping their heads up.
Ella sits beside me, her leg bouncing erratically.
I place a steadying hand on her knee, and she shoots me a grateful, albeit tense, smile.
Sammy and Gabi are sprawled opposite us, their eyes glued to Gabi’s laptop screen.
Claire and Evan hover near the doorway, pretending to be calm, but the tightness in Claire’s jaw gives her away.
“Come on, come on,” Cove mutters, refreshing the page on her phone for what feels like the hundredth time.
“Any minute now,” I say, working to keep my voice steady and encouraging. But inside, I’m just as nervous as everyone else. This isn’t the same feeling I’m used to when it comes to football. It’s a different kind of anticipation, one that knots my stomach and makes my palms sweat.
Finally, after an eternity of waiting, the page updates. A collective breath is held as we all lean in to see the results. The list of qualifiers scrolls down the phone screen in my hand, and I scan the names frantically.
“There!” Ella points, her voice high with excitement. “Whitland University!”
“Claire and Evan have a direct bid,” I say. There’s an asterisk by their names, denoting a championship qualifier. They’ll go directly to the finals at Daytona.
Claire’s face breaks into a rare, genuine smile as she and Evan high-five each other. It’s uncanny, almost, seeing her like this after the last couple of weeks. Since the night of the party, she’s kept her distance from Ella and me. Though she’s been sending Ella fewer daggers during practice.
“Cove and Malik,” Ella reads next. “You’re in, too, but you’ll have to compete for a bid.”
There’s a preliminary competition at the start of the event, and pairs who haven’t been sent straight to the finals will have to compete first. Cove and Malik are in the bottom half of the list, which means they’ll need to bring their A-game if they want to advance.
“And there’s us,” I say, spotting the tiny asterisk next to our names. “We did it, El.”
We secured a championship bid to partner stunts at Daytona. This was our one and only shot to compete in an individual event, and we made it happen. Ella and I share a look of disbelief and joy, and then she throws her arms around my neck, pulling me into a tight hug.
An overwhelming surge of elation washes over me. I lift her off the ground, spinning us both as the rest of the squad erupts into cheers and congratulations, everyone high on the news.
My chest feels like it might cleave apart with happiness, seeing her so ecstatic like this, knowing that together we achieved something incredible. This moment is bigger than us—it’s the culmination of months of hard work, late nights, and relentless determination.
Ella pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes, her face glowing. “I can’t believe we actually pulled it off.”
“You best believe it, darlin’. We’re competing,” I say, my grin stretching from ear to ear. This is the kind of victory that feels like magic, a dream turned reality, and I’m grateful to share it with her.
“Paige and Tailor didn’t make it,” Gabi says softly, her eyes scanning the list. The mood sobers slightly at the mention of our teammates who didn’t qualify, but we all know how tough the competition is.
“And look,” she points out, scrolling further down the list. “Five teams from Wyler State. Five to our three.”
“Wyler’s got a strong program,” Coach Morgan says, standing at the front of the mats, hands on her hips. She’s smiling, but in that frightening way that promises more grueling practice ahead. “But we’ve got heart and grit. What do we say, Whitland?”
A few of the squad members cup their hands around their mouths and shout, “Rise up, stand tall, we conquer all!”
I glance around, my brow raised as I recognize their chant for what it is—their own version of a Whitland rally cry.
“What’s that?” Coach Morgan yells. “I can’t hear you!”
“Rise up, stand tall, we conquer all!” they shout back, louder this time, and I make sure to join in. I’m part of this squad now, and that means giving it everything I’ve got.
I’ve had my time with the Whitland Grizzlies football team over the past four seasons, our final awards banquet has since passed, and I’m satisfied with that part of my career.
I earned an award for being the Most Valuable Player two years in a row and snagged the Offensive Player of the Year trophy this past season.
Those moments are inscribed on my memory, but it’s time to close that chapter.
I’ve always known that football wasn’t my forever, and though it’s a bittersweet pill to swallow, I’m ready for what comes next.
After a few more pats on the back, we leave to celebrate our success with burgers at the Pharmacy.
The same place I ran into Ella after our night together.
Back when I thought it would be wise to ignore her existence, hoping that we could just brush everything under the rug.
More so, that we could pretend we’d never met.
She immediately clocked my behavior and called me on it right then and there.
That was the night I suspected I might have met my match.
You’d think it was when we first slept together, but there was something even sexier in the way she pushed back at me that day, unafraid of the challenge—demanding my attention, refusing to be ignored.
Now, she and Gabi are squeezed into the backseat, with Levi stretched out on the passenger side. We’re not heading to a movie tonight—this time, we’re going out dancing at Midnights, one of the most popular clubs in Nashville.
“Where’s Sammy?” I ask. “Is she meeting us there?”
Levi waves me off. “Nah, she’s out tonight. We’ve been taking a bit of a break.”
I whip my head toward him. “Interesting timing. Was she worried you’d fall for her eventually?”
He laughs, leaning back in his seat. “Who says it’s not the other way around? You know how irresistible I am.”
“I think you’d be shocked at how little I believe that.”
Levi sighs dramatically. “You’re such a good friend, you know that? Ella”—he tosses her a look over his shoulder—“you should whip this guy into shape.”
“He’s a wild card,” she says with a grin. “No taming him.”
Levi drops his head, pushing his palms together in faux prayer. “Dear God, please let my Hudsy be with me forever. And if he’s not with me, let him be with you.”
I shove him hard on the shoulder. He pretends to whack his head on the car window, groaning in exaggerated pain. Ella chuckles, her eyes catching mine in the rearview mirror.
Gabi, silent until now, pipes up from the backseat. “Y’all are ridiculous. Can we just get to Midnights before you two kill each other?” She leans forward, her chin resting on the back of Levi’s seat. “Also, you owe me a drink, Levi.”
He twists around to face her, grinning. “Only if you admit Bad Bunny is overrated.”
“That’s still the worst thing you’ve ever said to me,” Gabi says, sitting back and crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re buying me two drinks, loser.”
“Fine, fine,” Levi mutters good-naturedly, rubbing at an imaginary pain in his forehead.
The club is packed tonight, the air thick with a heady mix of sweat, cologne, and the bass-heavy beats that pulse through the crowd. We manage to snag a booth off to the side, the perfect spot to watch the action unfold on the dance floor.
We leave the girls there while we grab some drinks at the bar. The line moves quickly, and soon we’re back with club sodas for Ella and me, and mixed drinks for Levi and Gabi. Ella eyes me from her spot in the booth, a soft smile playing on her lips as I hand her the soda.
“Thank you, Hudsy,” she teases, bringing the straw to her lips. Her eyes never leave mine as she takes a sip, and there’s a small tug in my chest. It’s a feeling I’ve grown used to the longer I’m around her.
“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,” I say, settling in beside her. “Call me anything else you’d like except for that.”
“Foxy?” she suggests brightly. “That’s what Gabi calls you sometimes.”
I scrub a hand along my temple. “Oh, fuck no.”
“So picky.” She shakes her head before turning her attention to the dance floor. Levi and Gabi were quick to hit it, leaving us to watch over their drinks. Now, they’re out there blatantly grinding to some Top 40 song. A spectacle if I’ve ever seen one.
Instead of remaining there, my attention quickly turns back to Ella. I’m trying to figure out how someone so infuriatingly stubborn could also be so goddamn perfect. How when she laughs, I want to join in, and when she cries, I want to do everything in my power to make her smile again.
How she’s managed to weave her way into every part of my life, making it impossible to remember what it was like before I knew her.
She leans into me then, her thigh brushing against mine as we sip our drinks, watching our friends dance.
I wrap an arm around her without thinking, pulling her closer.
The music is loud, the bass vibrating through the seats, but there’s a comforting sort of rhythm to it. A pull that makes me eager to join in.
After a few upbeat songs, Gabi comes over, her eyes twinkling. “I’ll watch the drinks if you two want to dance a while,” she offers. “Levi’s gone to the bathroom.”
Ella and I exchange a glance. With a quick thanks, we slide out of the booth and head for the dance floor together. The beat shifts to something slower, more sensual, and we fall into sync as if we’ve been dancing together for years. I suppose that’s what constant training will do to you.
Our bodies move as one, pressed close, her hands looped around my neck while mine rest on her hips.
It’s warmer out here on the floor. A thick wave of heat from all the mingling of bodies and the frenzied energy of the crowd.
The kind that only builds as our hips move together.
We’re both acutely aware of it, the rising tension simmering just beneath our skin.
Ella’s collarbone glistens and her cheeks are flushed, eyes bright, as she looks up at me. I lower my head, brushing my lips against her ear. “You’re fucking irresistible, you know that?”
She gives me a wicked grin. “You think so?”
“What I think is that I can’t seem to get you off my mind. How much I want you, how much I crave you.”
“Yeah?” She blows out a heated breath. “Tell me more.”
I wipe of bead of sweat from her brow. “Should we sit first?”
“Sure,” she murmurs. “I think I need a break, anyway.”
I chuckle. “Hot, isn’t it?
We weave back through the crowd, hands clasped tight. Gabi winks as we switch places and then she heads off to rejoin Levi on the dance floor. Ella settles into the booth, sipping her club soda, her gaze lingering on me. The tension is hard to ignore.
Without waiting for another snarky quip, I slide in beside her and rest a hand on her thigh beneath the table.
I can’t help myself—being this close to her, feeling her warmth against me, it’s impossible not to want more.
My fingers trace the seam of her jeans, a gentle pressure that has her leaning into me.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Taking that break you wanted,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Telling you more. Enjoying this empty booth with my girlfriend. What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Girlfriend?”
“Fine,” I mutter, amused that she latched onto that singular word. “I’m touching my temporary girlfriend while our friends are too busy dancing to notice. That better?”
She gives a short laugh, her fingers tapping the back of my hand. “Much,” she says, her voice pitched low, silky, and soft. Our eyes meet in the dark and there’s a spark in hers that makes my blood pump faster. “You sure they’re clueless?”
“Well,” I say as I slide my hand further up her thigh, popping open the button on her pants. “We could find out.”
She chokes back a laugh, covering it with a cough as her cheeks flush a deep crimson. She glances at the dance floor, but everyone is too engrossed in their own fun to notice anything amiss.
When she opens her legs, I take that as an invitation and slide her zipper down, too.
There’s a sharp intake of breath from her as my hand slips under the waistband of her panties.
I don’t look at her now; my gaze is fixed on the bodies moving in front of us, pretending to watch them dance.
Her skin’s slick and smooth against my palm as I trace circles right above her clit.
Her breath hitches in her chest, a soft gasp that’s drowned out by the pounding bass. I can feel her tensing up under my touch, her thighs instinctively closing around my hand. She bites down on her lower lip, fighting back a moan as I finally press my thumb against her.
I look into her eyes, waiting for that final nod of consent, and then I slip my fingers inside of her.
Two out the gate, pushing through the wet, warm barrier until I’m in to the knuckle.
She shifts, eagerly riding me. Her hips flex, body shivering as I twist my fingers, sliding deeper into her still.
“Easy,” I whisper into her ear, feeling her body tense up with pleasure. “We wouldn’t want anyone to see you, would we?”
She shakes her head, biting her lip hard enough that it might bruise. Trembling fingers dig into my arm, her other hand clutching at the table. Those hips rock in rhythm with my hand, pressing against my palm.
There’s a flush spreading across her cheeks now, her lips parting, and when I curl my fingers one final time, she presses a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound of her coming.
“That’s my girl,” I whisper. “Being so damn good for me.”
We stay like that for a minute. Once her breaths have steadied and the flush in her cheeks has toned down to a soft pink, I retire my hand, zipping her jeans back up for her.
“Enjoying the night?” I ask, a smirk on my lips.
“I like dancing, but I’m, uh, I’m not much for clubs, usually.”
“Hmm,” I murmur, offering her a knowing smile. “I would have guessed the opposite. Seems like you’re wholly enjoying yourself.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, Hudson, I wonder why.”