Page 19 of The Sweetest Cruelty: Hudson
And then I saw him, Hudson; number twenty-seven with the name Gage above it. Sothatwas his surname. Hudson Gage, even his name was sexy.
It suited him.
Hudson was in the process of walking onto the field, flexing his arms before shoving a helmet on his head. He looked even bigger in the protective gear he wore under his football strip (aka jersey, one of the cheerleaders had explained). My eyes were drawnto how snug the tight-fitting white bottoms were. The guy had drool-worthy muscled thighs as well as ticking every other box. His whole body was so chiselled and bulky that the muscles threatened to escape his uniform.
He wasn’t close-up by any means, but I knew it was him straight away. All the players wore the same grey and white football kits, but he stood out from all the rest.
They were doing that thing they did at the beginning of the game, where they faced off against each other before the ball was passed between the central players' legs.
Those noises of shouting, bodies cracking together, yells from the girls, and whistles echoed around the field.
I watched as the boy who caught the ball was roughly taken to the ground, lost beneath another player. The whistle then went, and they dusted themselves off and resumed their positions. My lips curled into a smile as they patted each other's backs and fist-bumped. It felt so surreal.
The practice continued, repeating the same thing. Yells from the coach correcting or complimenting the players echoed around the area. I googled American Football on my phone as I watched.
It appeared the boys were engaged in a Scrimmage. You learn something new every day. It wasfascinating. I’d never been one for watching sports, but the testosterone between the boys was unreal. You could taste it in the air. All that male aggression and dick measuring was rife as they tackled each other roughly to the ground.
Moving my eyes away from where Hudson was standing with members of his team, I turned to where Storm was in the process of performing a gymnastic-type move by lifting her leg in the air. Gutsy, considering she wore her school uniform. I sure hoped she had shorts on.
A few whistles came from the boys on the field, and the girls laughed and giggled as Storm blew them a kiss.
Yep. I certainly didn’t fit in withthatcrowd. And that was the main question at the back of my mind. Would Ieverfit in there?
And then my attention was dragged away as yelling started on the field.
Shit got real as a clash occurred between two players. Or should I say three, four, five? Fuck!
Things got out of hand rapidly. Players started pushing each other and squaring up to fight. One guy threw his helmet to the ground and then started trying to tug another guy's off his head roughly.
I hated violence of any kind, and I started to make my way down the stairs as half of the cheer squad ran onto the pitch, Storm leading at the front.
Time to go and be invisible.
The language coming from behind me as I left the sports fields was angry and unfiltered.
After making my way through a sea of people, I found the bathroom and locked myself in a cubicle.
Storm wouldn’t wonder where I’d gone. She was too busy getting involved in the drama on the field. I knew she was the type of girl who’d be into everything, and I couldn’t be dealing with that. I just needed to keep my head down and get on with it.
Checking my timetable, shit,schedule, my eyes landed on lunch. Only another hour
And then I would be halfway through my first day at Harbor Heights High.
Thank Christ.
Another wave of sadness rolled through me as I realised that the only person whom I wanted to talk to about my first daywouldn’tbe there when I got home.
FOUR
HUDSON
It was another one of those headfuck moments where it felt like my father was smiling up at me from hell. And I was gettingsickof it.
Although Callum Gage wasn’t dead yet—but the fuckerwasincarcerated at the MAX in Cranston, so he was as good as.
Ma had recently received a report that his health was deteriorating fast. Cancer, we’d been told. Did that mean anything to me? No. Did I visit the fucker? Again, that was a big fat no.
I wantednothingto do with him, but the worry that his blood flowed in my veins was always there, nibbling away at my soul.
