Page 38 of Game On
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 briefmoment 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 introductionshere; 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, youcan’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 differenttracks. 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.”
