Page 122 of Game On
My ears are still ringing as we sprint towards the ocean together, driven by a collective urge to baptize our success in saltwater. It’s just a short dash from the stage to the shore and, as we reach it, my shoes and socks fly off first. The sand is warm beneath my bare feet, squishing between my toes and slipping away with every eager step.
“Come on!” I shout to Hudson.
I glance back to find Ash behind me, his shoes makingtheir own arc through the air. Hudson is beside me now, his strides long and confident, a boyish laugh escaping him as he runs on ahead into the ocean, a bright, glittering expanse beneath the afternoon sun.
When I reach the water’s edge, the cold waves crash against my legs. Gabi runs up from behind, tackling me into the water, and we both go tumbling. We’re soaking wet, uniforms drenched in sand and sea. A salty residue that will probably never come out.
But it doesn’t matter.
Nothing matters except this moment, frozen in perfect time. I look around at my teammates, each one a portrait of pure joy. Ash is splashing Luke, who’s trying—and failing—to dodge the onslaught. Claire’s dancing in the shallows, her curls bouncing with each wave. Sammy and Gabi are engaged in a mock battle, shrieking at each other as the waves swallow them up.
And Hudson? He’s wading through the water to meet me, silhouetted by the sun behind him. My heart does a little flip of its own. There’s my gorgeous boyfriend, the man I love, striding towards me after the biggest win of my life.
“Would you look at that,” he says. “It’s our first trip to the beach together.” He gives me a little smirk, droplets glistening on his tanned skin.
“First of many,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing just below his ear. “We should fly out here again this summer, though. Do a little Orlando sightseeing before heading back to Oxford.”
He grins. “Mmm, or we could drive here.”
“Oh, God no. I don’t even want to know how long that might take us.”
“About eleven hours, darlin’,” he says, “give or take a few pit stops for Sour. Nothin’ much to it.”
I laugh, and he leans in then, pressing his lips to mine, salty and so sweet. The most perfect kiss on the most perfect day.
Epilogue
Hudson
We’re nestled in a cozy corner of the Grand Café, the site of the oldest coffeehouse in England, and a staple here in Oxford. Ella sits across from me, a textbook placed haphazardly in front of her. Her gaze flits from the page to the window, where rain patters gently against the glass.
She’s chewing on the end of her pen, her brow furrowed in concentration, or perhaps frustration. I can’t tell which.
“You’re not really paying much attention to that book, are you?” I ask, nudging her leg with my foot under the table. She starts, dropping the pen and snapping her eyes back to me.
“I know,” she mumbles, a sheepish smile creeping onto her face. “I was just thinking.”
“About?”
“Ah, nothing important,” she says, waving her hand dismissively. But I know that look—it’s the one she gets when she’s thinking about something serious.
I lean back in my chair, arms crossed over my chest. “Give it up, Davies. You can’t hide from me.”
She huffs a quiet laugh. “It’s just funny, you know. We’ve been living together for five months, and you still haven’t learned to leave me alone when I’m brooding.”
I grin at her. Oxford has exceeded my wildest expectations. The coursework is intense, but that’s exactly what I signed up for—a genuine academic challenge. Our off-campus apartment is spacious and homey, filled with a mix of our things—her books, my music, our trophies.
We even found a new pub, the Fox and Fiddle, which we visit with her old friends and some of the guys from my program. And then there’s this café we’re at now, where I had my first proper taste of English tea.
“Is that you want, El?” I ask. “For me to leave you alone?”
She drops her head back, unable to curb her own smile. “No, of course not. I want you to pester me, poke at me, until I spill all my secrets. Isn’t that what you’re best at?”
I chuckle. “So, are you gonna tell me what’s really going on in that beautiful head of yours?”
She bites her lip, glancing out the window again, watching the rain trace delicate lines on the pane. “I was thinking about Christmas.”
“You still want to fly home to Texas with me, right? I don’t think Sour could live a whole year without a proper cuddle from my mom.”
