Page 92 of Game On
“They have their reasons. But they fund my education, my lifestyle, so who am I to complain?”
His eyes are empathetic, but I shrug it off. I don’t want to get too far into it now, not when this is the first time we’ve properly been alone for what feels like months. I force a smile, hiding the familiar sting of my family’s disregard. “It’s not a big deal, really.”
“Well, you know what I think.” He moves away to look at another picture. The loss of his touch makes my skin tingle, a sudden chill in its absence. I take a small step forward, yearning for his presence again. “This girl right here,” he says, pointing to a group shot of our whole team, one where I am lifted to the top of a pyramid. “I think she deserves a helluva lot more from her family than indifference.”
I work my way through a heavy swallow. And then I’m on him, arms wrapping around his neck, pulling his lips down to meet mine. He stumbles back, but quickly regains balance and pulls me in closer.
Warm kisses on chilled lips—what a cure for a stinging heart.
Our clothes come off next. It’s a gentle undressing, slow and intentional. There’s no rush, no need to sprint towards some invisible finish line. Usually we’re a bit more frantic, eager to quench our shared need. But this is different, it’s almost sacred, a deliberate choice to take our time and savor every last second together.
His kisses trail down my neck, and I tangle my fingers in his hair, holding him close, grounding myself. We make our way to my bed, sinking into the mattress together. Hudson lets out a soft sigh, fully relaxing.
Tonight, his touch, his presence, fills me with an unusual sense of warmth. The kind of intimacy that both confuses and reassures. I try to let it wash over me, to not dilute the moment with overthinking. I need him too much to worry about it now.
“Are you good?” I ask him, tracing small circles on his arm with my fingertip.
He looks at me, his eyes dark. “Never been better.”
I prop myself up on an elbow to study his face in the dim light. He looks different here in my room, softer and more open. A side of him I rarely get to see. And when he holds me, his fingers sliding inside my body, his breath against my neck, I feel … whole.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Ella
There are only six days left until Christmas, and almost everyone has left for the holiday already. Gabi’s still here, zipping up her last suitcase, ready for her trip home to Puerto Rico. I help her lug her bags downstairs to the waiting Uber. We share a quick, tight hug, and she promises to send pictures of sunnier skies and clear-water beaches.
“Have a great time, Gabs,” I call out as she climbs into the car. She waves, all bright smiles and holiday excitement, then they’re off, pulling away from the curb. I trudge back up to our now too-quiet apartment. It’s strange, the sudden emptiness of it.
Hudson left yesterday, and saying goodbye was harder than I anticipated. So much so that I almost went with him. He invited me, last minute, when he found out I’d be staying near campus alone.
It was thoughtful, maybe too thoughtful. Though he tried to play it off casually, I could tell he didn’t like the idea of me spending Christmas by myself. And whilepart of me was tempted to say yes, I said no—not just because it felt like a pity invite, but because it felt way too real.
I’d already stayed with his family for Thanksgiving, and now Christmas, too?
We didn’t dwell much on the goodbye, both of us aware of our growing attachment but too hesitant to voice it. This will be the longest we’ve been apart since we started hooking up, and it feels strange.
But I suppose it might be nice to be alone for a while. It will give me a chance to explore the city, to clear my head and reflect on how I’m feeling. I haven’t had the chance to visit Centennial Park or to go to the local museum yet. It will be a quiet Christmas, undoubtedly. But it also might be kind of peaceful.
Just as I’m about to settle down with a book, there’s a knock at the door. Assuming it’s Gabi—maybe she forgot something—I swing it open without a second thought. But it’s not my friend who’s standing there; it’s Jamie, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other nonchalantly resting on the doorframe.
“Hey, Ella,” he says, his voice casual, as if dropping by unannounced is perfectly normal.
I frown, something sharp prickling at the back of my neck. The shock at seeing him instantly morphs into anger. “How’d you get in the building?”
“Someone let me up as they were heading out,” he says. “I must have a trustworthy face.”
“Or they’re a terrible judge of character.”
“Funny,” he mutters, his eyes already roving past me into the apartment. “Can I come in?”
“Why?”
“I want to talk. I’ve missed you, and I wanted to talk about your plans for Christmas.”
I sigh, pressing the heel of my hand against my forehead. “It’s not really your business anymore, is it?”
“We’ll both be in the same place at the same time, Ella,” he says. “And we’ve always spent Christmas Eve together.”
