Page 76 of Game On
“I could try the routine with you. See if I could nail it inthe next couple of months before you have to submit. Be your stand-in.”
“And why would you do that?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest.
“Because I want you to win, Davies,” he says simply.
I scoff. This is a man who loves to argue with me. A man who makes a sport out of working me up and enjoys every second of it.
“When you’re playing against me, I prefer to come out on top. Otherwise …” He trails off, a playful glint in his eyes.
“Right,” I mutter, and every single muscle in my body goes rigid. “It wouldn’t work, anyway.”
“Why’s that?” He leans against the gym’s brick exterior, looking every bit the part of someone who’s not about to take no for an answer.
“You’re not on the team, for one. You have to compete with the person you submit with. Ash couldn’t step back in for Daytona, even if he’s fully healed. We’d have to be in it together from the beginning.”
“Okay.” He shrugs, as if the solution is easy. “So, we’ll talk to your coach. I’ll join the team and I’ll do Daytona, too.”
“Aren’t you too busy for this?” I ask.
“I’m finishing my last application at the end of this month. Our season will end soon. My schedule, fortunately for you, has just opened up.” He straightens, his gaze locking with mine. There’s a challenge there, and also an offer—one that’s just reckless enough to work.
The idea grows legs, kicks me hard in the stomach, anddrives all the breathable air from my lungs. Hudson stepping in? It’s unorthodox, unexpected, and frankly a little ridiculous. But then so is everything else about this year. “You’re serious about this?”
“As I’ve ever been.”
I bite my bottom lip. “We should … I guess we could try it. See how things go tonight, and then worry about bringing it up to Coach Morgan later.”
“It might be the best option,” Ash says seriously. “He can read your body language, anticipate the way you move, and make the kind of micro adjustments that Luke can’t.”
“He’s right.” Hudson tips his chin, his eyes devouring me from head to toe. “I can read you perfectly, Ella.”
And there he goes, saying my goddamn name again. Right in front of Ash, too, so I can’t even protest without sounding a bit unhinged.
How does he manage to be so infuriating and yet so damn attractive at the same time? I want to argue, to tell him he’s overestimating his abilities, but there’s a part of me that wonders … what if he’s right? What if he can make this work, and I don’t have to compromise what I want in the end?
“Let’s just go try this before you get too cocky.”
His eyes bore into mine. “That doesn’t sound like the thanks I was hoping for.”
“Yeah, that comes later,” I say. “Once you show me it’s worth it.”
He gestures in a wide sweeping motion towards the entrance of Skyline, and then, “After you, darlin’.”
The gym is ours by the time we run through the stunts again. Everyone else has left, but the owner was kind enough to leave the keys for us. Ash has been coming here for years, which means he’s racked up some serious perks, including after-hours use of the facilities.
It’s late now, the kind of late that has Luke yawning every five minutes and Ash’s usual pep waning into exhausted murmurs from the sidelines. We’ve broken the routine down into chunks, practicing each element until it’s clean—no bobbles, no wobbles.
We’ve hit each stunt ten times, every one better than the last, and I’m buzzing with stubborn determination. I wipe a bead of sweat from my brow, catching my breath.
“Let’s take it from the top,” I say, voice firm, gaze locked on Hudson, who’s been the unexpected rock in this setup. “Full-out. I need to see if we can string this together smoothly.”
Hudson exchanges a look with Luke and Ash, both of whom shake their heads subtly. “Ella, we’ve been at this for hours,” Hudson starts, his tone cautiously firm. “We’ve made great progress. Maybe pushing through the entire routine tonight isn’t the best call.”
I plant my hands on my hips. “So, what, we just pat ourselves on the back for the small wins and call it? That’s it?”
Ash steps forward, trying to be the voice of reason. “It’s late, Ella. We’re all wiped. Let’s not risk another injury or burnout.”
My chest heaves with heavy breaths, my body on edge from fatigue and this sudden spike of irritation. “Fine,” Irelent, my voice sharp. “You guys go. Thanks for the help, really.”
