Player: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

by Aubrey Irons

  “Hey, this place is an institution, you know. Plus it’s freaking delicious; I’d eat here every day if it wouldn’t give Donald and Erika conniptions.”

  “And what would Hudson think?”

  Chelsea’s snarky grin catches me off-guard, and I stumble; “W-What do you mean?”

  “I mean about you eating pancakes and scrambled cheesy eggs every day.”

  I shrug as nonchalantly as I can; “I’m sure I’ve got no idea what he thinks about anything.”

  Like, me, for instance.

  Quinn grins at me, and I steel myself, afraid she’ll sniff out what I’m really thinking about him like some sort of sex-bloodhound; “So how is spending all that time with Hotsun going, anyways?”

  I groan; “Qui-”

  “What?! Have you fucking seen him!” She says with mock indignance; “He’s like-”

  “Packaged sex.” Chelsea butts in, making the two of them devolve into giggles and my face into total guilty embarrassment.

  “Guys, he’s not-”

  “Oh my God, Ray, why are you fighting her on that? She’s totally right and you know it. Hudson is like, James Bond, but with super hot tattoos and a body off the cover of a romance novel.” She arches her eyebrows at me; “Hey, I mean if you don’t want that, I mean I’m single-”

  “Quinn I think you stole quite enough boyfriends from me in high school.”

  They both immediately beam at me as I realize my slip-up and die a little inside.

  “Oh. My. God.” Quinn’s jaw drops.

  “Guys, no, that is not what I-”

  “No fucking way!” Chelsea stares at me with a grin on her face. She and Liz turn towards each other and start giggling again.

  “Wait, no, it is not like- stop that!” People are starting to turn and look our way, and even in this greasy little diner in midtown, I know it’s a matter of time before someone realizes who I am and starts to get really interested in what we’re talking about so animatedly.

  “Guys, seriously!” I hiss; “Keep it down!”

  Chelsea is beaming at me; “Hudson fucking Banks?”

  “I think it’s more ‘Hudson fucking our sister’, actually.” Quinn quips, with the predicted giggle from Chelsea and the deeper shade of red on my face.

  I shake my head much to animatedly; “No way, of course not, he’s horrible.”

  Quinn shrugs; “Well, I mean he’s crude I guess, but horrible?”

  “Ugh! He’s one of Dad’s thugs!” I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince more, me or them.

  “So?” Chelsea shrugs; “Ok, he worked for Dad; big deal. It’s not like he’s our brother or something.”

  I make a face into my coffee; “Eww?”

  Chelsea sighs; “No, I just mean what would be so weird about hooking up with Hudson?”

  “Um, because besides that, how about the fact that Dad ditched us for him and his other adopt-a-veteran pals all the fucking time?”

  Chelsea looks quickly down and Quinn shakes her head at me; “You need to let that one go sometime, Ray. You know Dad had his reasons for-”

  “Ok, fine, whatever.” Not the conversation I want have in the middle of a political campaign sitting in a diner.

  We sit in silence for another moment before I open my mouth again; “Ok, how about that he’s technically my campaign financier? Hello? Conflict of interest much?”

  Quinn shrugs; “Archer Holdings is your campaign financier, not Hudson. So what’s the harm?”

  I slam the coffee cup down harder than I intend, spilling the lukewarm liquid onto the countertop; “Because I feel like an idiot for sleeping with him after what happened at Dad’s wak-”

  I freeze and clasp my hands to my mouth as the whole table goes silent, my sisters staring at me with open mouths.

  Oh, fuck.

  “Wait, what? You did sleep with him?!” Chelsea is wide-eyed and grinning at me.

  “You hussy!” Quinn clucks her teeth like a mother hen; “And oh my God; what did you do get up to at a wake?!”

  And it’s right there, with room-temperature coffee all over my hands, sitting in a crappy little midtown diner in the middle of the afternoon that I start to cry. Quinn immediately changes her whole tune as she jumps out the booth and crams in on my side, her arms going around me as the tears and the sniffles come pouring out of me.

  “Hey, hey now Ray.”

  “I’m horrible!” I moan into my hands, feeling Quinn’s arms tighten around me.

  “No, hon, you’re not.”

  “But at Dad’s fucking funer-”

  “You were emotional and lost, and you needed something to grab onto; and he was there.” She nuzzles my hair like she used to do when we were kids; “That’s not being horrible, Ray, that’s just being human.” She says softly.

  Chelsea reaches across the table and takes one of my hands, patting it dry of coffee as I look up at her miserably; “And Hudson isn’t so terrible you know.”

  “I know,” I sniff.

  Quinn leans down to peer into my face with that wicked grin back on her face; “So, you slept with him, huh?”

  I feel a horrible mixture of relief and embarrassment and sadness wash over me at the way things got left this morning with him, especially with the previous night being so incredible, and I nod quietly.

  Quinn chuckles; “So was it good?”

  “Of course it was good, or she wouldn’t be so upset right now!” Chelsea says as she squeezes my hands, and I giggle in spite of myself.

  “Oh, ok, details, now.”

  I laugh again and roll my eyes; “Quinn!” Chelsea throws a balled-up napkin at our older sister, and then we’re all laughing, and I can already feel the weight lifting from my shoulders.

  Suddenly though, Quinn turns and looks at me skeptically; “Hang on.” She bites her lip; “No, forget it.”

  “Gah! Quinn! What?” I say, wiping my eyes on her arm.

  She gives me a look a the mascara marks I leave on her sweater before she shakes her head; “No, it’s just- I don’t know, you’ve just never really struck me as the casual hook-up type, that’s all.”

  I frown; “What do you mean?”

  She frowns; “I mean with Hudson,” She shrugs; “Hey I guess the campaign really is good at getting you out of your comfort zo- Oh fuck, honey-”

  My face starts to crumble again, and Chelsea reaches across the table to smack Quinn’s hand.

  “Soooo…not necessarily a casual thing.”

  I dump my head in my hands; “I don’t know! No? Maybe?” Ugh; I fucking hate crying like this over some guy like some sort of movie cliche. But damnit if Hudson hasn’t wormed right under my skin.

  “It’s complicated, I guess.”

  Chelsea smirks at me; “Ray, your whole life is complicated; maybe you need a little simplicity.”

  I exhale loudly; “I should let the whole thing go, shouldn’t I?”

  My younger, somehow far wiser sister grins at me as she squeezes my hand; “No, I’m saying you clearly have a lot more feelings about Hudson than I think you’re even admitting to yourself, and like always, you’re overthinking it.”

  “So-”

  “So you like him, and I’m betting he likes you. So just tell him, Reagan.” Quinn says.

  Across the table, Chelsea nods and shrugs; “Try simple for change, Ray.”

  19

  Hudson

  P R E S E N T

  I end up getting a grand total of two jabs into my warm-up before I throw off my gloves with a snarl and head for the shower. There’s a brief hesitation right before I step under the spray; as if a tiny part of me is reluctant to wash the smell and the feel and the memory of her off of my skin.

  ‘A big mistake…kind of like last night.’

  I step under the water and slam the shower-door shut.

  I don’t know why or even how I find myself at the cable network building where her second interview of the day is being filmed, but fuck it, I’m there. That’s what’s
so twisted about this whole Reagan situation; I don’t want to be around her, but apparently I can’t seem to stay away either. The interview has already started as I stand just outside the light behind the cameras off-stage, watching her and trying not to let the fact that she’s laughing and smiling and just plain gorgeous get under my skin so much.

  “Hey babe.” Samantha’s voice slithers into my ear as she comes up behind me and wraps her arms around me, as if we’ve even met more than three times.

  “What are you doing here, Sam?” I hiss at her quietly, though not quietly enough to avoid getting an evil look from one of the stage managers. Is this girl following me or something?

  She slaps my chest playfully and rolls her eyes, as if I’ve just said a joke of some kind; “Uh, because I intern for the Archer campaign? Duh?”

  Oh fuck. Reagan’s immediately furious reaction to my having Samantha on my arm before suddenly makes way more sense; because she’s a campaign intern, kind of like the type of campaign intern that she broke up with that idiot Chet for fucking. The pieces slide a bit more together and I cringe as I think about it.

  She answers a question with a line I don’t hear but that makes the older news anchor chuckle. But then as she looks up with a smile on her face, she suddenly sees me standing there behind the cameras with Samantha hanging off my arm, and her smile fades instantly. She’s glaring at me, so much so that I even see the stage manager signal for another camera angle. There’s a bit of smug satisfaction with seeing her jealous like that, but it’s an empty victory considering the way shit went down this morning and the two pieces I’ve just put together, and I can’t even find a crumb of victory in it.

  The interview ends, and I finally get Samantha to get off my arm by promising to call her later even though I’ve certainly never saved her number anywhere. I almost want to smile at the predictability of Reagan marching right up to me after she yanks off her microphone, but I keep it under wraps at the look in her face.

  “I thought you weren’t coming.” Her eyes flash past me at Sam walking away behind me and her eyes narrow a little’ “So how’s Sam?”

  I reach out and put my hand on her arm; “Calm down, it’s not what it looks-”

  “Don’t tell me to-”She stops and takes a deep breath; “Hudson I don’t care,” She shrugs my hand off and takes one small and yet infinitely giant step back; “We’re both adults here, you can do whatever you want.”

  I take a step towards her, my voice low and growling; “You know what I want.”

  She opens her mouth but then shuts it abruptly as she nods towards the sound of Samantha giggling obnoxiously at something across the room; “Yeah, I guess I do. Have fun, Hudson.”

  I feel like a fucking idiot when I knock on her door, about to escort her to fucking Chet Kennedy’s “gala” event; whatever the fuck that is. I’m literally driving the girl I can’t get out of my fucking head into the arms of her shitty ex-boyfriend. The old Hudson would have punched this Hudson in the nuts and told him to sack up.

  She opens the door though, and any and all rational thought just flushes right out of my mind as I stare at her. She looks stunning. I mean, she always looks amazing, but the short, slinky, form-fitting little black dress she’s wearing is like a punch right to my gut, and I find myself just opening and closing my mouth as I let my eyes roam over her. And then of course the thought hits me that she isn’t wearing this for me, and I frown.

  “Well?”

  Her voice startles me out of my freeze and I jerk my head up; “Jesus, why are you wearing that?” I immediately cringe; Nice man, nice.

  Her lip curls into a snarl; “Well fuck you too, Hudson.”

  “No, I mean - isn’t this a formal-”

  “It’s black tie, black cocktail dress; isn’t that your circle of things?”

  Yeah, hardly.

  “I’m just saying you look nice.”

  “Gee, thanks. Funny way of showing it.”

  I roll my eyes; “Listen, Ray-”

  “Can we go please?” She looks at me sharply; “I’ve got a date waiting for me.”

  I freeze; “Excuse me?”

  She taps her heeled foot on the ground; “I said can we go.”

  “You know what I mean, that second fucking part.” I growl.

  She smiles at me, as if she know’s she’s just scored a hit on me; “My date, Hudson. Chet’s waiting for me.”

  I can feel my blood pressure jump through my skull as I grind my teeth and clench my fists. I know exactly what she’s doing, but the shittiest part is, it’s working.

  “You’re dating Chet again?”

  She shrugs, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world; like last night never happened. I can still imagine the way her lips felt wrapping around my cock, or the way her hair smelled and the way her skin felt so warm and alive when she slid down onto me. I’m instantly thinking how it incredible she felt rocking up and down on top of me, and the sounds of her cries as she came. And suddenly, I’m rock-hard inside my pants, which is thoroughly confusing with the angry scowl she’s giving me in our current situation. All I want to do is kiss her hard right here in the doorway. I want to shove her up against the door, lift up that teeny little black dress she’s wearing and remind her exactly how good last night felt since she’s clearly pretending to have forgotten.

  “Reagan can we just fucking talk about this like adults instead of acting like children?”

  She stares daggers into my eyes; “I am acting like an adult, Hudson. Now can we please go so I can get on with being an adult with my date?”

  Chet, who I get to fucking drive her to. Who I get to watch her moon over all night at this stupid fucking ‘gala’ while everyone fawns over the two of them and takes their pictures and tells them what an incredible ‘power-couple’ they are. In recovery and in the program, they talk about “relapse triggers” like ”feelings of frustration,” or “expecting too much of other people.” If you can ball every single one of those triggers into one damn thing, it’s called “Chet Kennedy’s stupid fucking gala event that I have to take Reagan to.”

  I’m furious; raging inside like a bomb about to explode. But I swallow it, all of it, as I look at her sharply; “Fine. Let’s go.”

  This is fucking ridiculous.

  20

  Reagan

  P A S T

  “Hang on, are you serious?” Quinn glances at Chelsea, and they both turn to look at me skeptically.

  “Yeah, I’m serious.” I roll my eyes at them, “What, you don’t think I can do it?”

  “Oh, no, it’s not that Ray!” Chelsea says quickly, shaking her head; “It’s just, uh, I mean it’s just that you’re-”

  “You’re twenty-two, Reagan.” Quinn says evenly, frowning slightly.

  “So?”

  She rolls her eyes; “Ok, you’re twenty-two, and you have zero political experience. That might be a problem here.”

  “Quinn, I do have a degree in political science, and I’ve spent the last two years working with Chet on his campaign stuff.”

  Quinn snorts and Chelsea opens and closes her mouth quickly as if she’s trying to figure out what to say to that.

  “OK, OK, laugh it up, I know. Chet’s…Chet, but the experience with the campaign is real, guys. It - I don’t know - it got me moving and got me thinking about stuff like I never have.”

  “But Ray, the Senate?” Chelsea looks worried.

  “State Senate, but yeah.” I shrug; “If you’re gonna dream, dream big right?”

  Quinn grins; “You’re actually going to do this, aren’t you?” I nod and she rolls her eyes; “You’re fucking insane, you know that right?”

  “Well, with endorsements like that!” Chelsea laughs and turns to look at me; “So when do we start?”

  P R E S E N T

  “So I told you about getting my amateur pilot’s license, right?” I raise my eyebrows towards Chet, nodding as I plaster a dopey, fake smile across my face. I’m not really liste
ning to a word he says though, since I’m concentrating on not looking at the scowling Hudson standing right there with us. Hudson who’s alternating between rolling his eyes at practically everything Chet says and glowering at me every time I very purposely laugh at it.

  I might be laughing on the outside, but inside I’m scowling just as hard as he is now; I mean where the fuck does he get off being so possessively alpha about me talking with Chet when he’s the one that had Samantha and her tits hanging off of him barely hours after we’d slept together. It’s classic fucking Hudson, I grumble inside. But if anything, I’m more scared than pissed, as much as I don’t want to admit it. In fact, I’m doing my damnedest to ignore it, since I’m scared what me being jealous of Hudson with another girl really means, especially after what I talked about with Quinn and Chelsea.

  “So what do you think, Hud?” Chet’s nodding his head and wagging his eyebrows at Hudson, who’s piercing scowl and pointed silence he seems to be oblivious of; “Pretty soon you and I can get up there together and do a little ace piloting, huh Iceman?”

  “Why would I do that.” There’s almost a humor in the way Hudson does nothing to hide the disdain in his voice or the plaintive ‘I don’t fucking care’ look on his face when he speaks to Chet, but I bury that humor with a scowl instead.

  Chet sighs dramatically; “Well hell man! I thought they taught you guys how to fly planes in the Air Force!”

  Hudson’s eyes narrow at Chet; “I’m sure they do teach people to fly planes in the Air Force,” He says, his voice icy.

  Chet snaps his fingers and shakes his head; “Right, right! Ranger, right?”

  Hudson’s fist clenches at his side; “Marine.”

  “Ahhh, well, I was close!”

  Hudson’s eyes very plainly say “no, you weren’t” but he mercifully keeps his mouth shut. Unfortunately, Chet doesn’t; “Well you’ve still got planes with the Marines, right? Don’t they take you up in them to get pushed out or something?” He chuckles and I see Hudson’s jaw tighten; “I thought that was your guys’ thing!”