Page 9 of The Sweetest Cruelty: Hudson (A Sawyer Brothers Story #1)

“Bubbler?” I asked.

“Yes, that’s what we call the water fountain.”

“OK, cool. Thanks,” I replied, batting off my judgmental thoughts.

Storm popped her gum again and twirled some hair around her finger, “We can take a break on the bleachers and watch the guys at practice.”

I wasn’t sure who ‘the guys’ were, but I was pleased I wouldn’t have to wander around like a loser with no friends during break time. I wondered if Storm knew Hudson. Knowing my luck, he was probably her boyfriend.

“Laters,” Storm said. And after another brief inspection of my face and body, she flounced off.

I released the breath I had been holding in.

My first class, hopefully, wouldn’t be so bad; it was calculus.

I still wasn’t so sure about the subjects I’d chosen, as it had all felt a bit rushed.

Usually, in America, you decide what subjects you want to study in eleventh grade much earlier in the year.

I’d had to choose mine with backwards and forward emails to my father.

Everyone had already found their seats when I walked into the room. I had to take a table at the front of the room as the kids had filled in from the back. An awkward cough fell into the silence as I rooted through my backpack.

A ball of paper hit my back and landed on the floor beside me, but I ignored it .

After the teacher had overenthusiastically introduced me as the new girl, I put my head down and started taking notes.

Although I attempted to hide from it, I was asked a few questions.

While answering them, I heard snickers from the back of the classroom.

People mimicked my British accent. Great.

There was also a girl on my left who stared at me the entire time.

She had ombre hair, black at the root and purple at the tip, another blatant rebel.

As the bell went, I waited for the hustle and bustle of students racing from the room like their lives were in danger before I pushed to my feet.

Gathering my books, a shadow fell over me, and I glanced up.

My heart sank, it was my father. OMG, he’d come to check on me during school hours. How fucking embarrassing. Luckily, most of the kids I had class with had left.

“How’s your morning so far? I was passing and so thought I’d say hi.”

Sliding my arms into my backpack, I looked up at him.

“It’s fine and I’m good. I’m just going to meet my guide again, and so can we catch up later?

” I replied, pushing back my hair, and shooting him a brief, please pretend that you don’t know me look.

I knew I couldn’t hide from it forever, but I didn’t want everyone to know I was the principal’s kid from the get-go.

My father smiled in understanding, but still followed me into the corridor.

Unfortunately, Storm stood outside by the window, looking at her phone. Before I could move away, she caught us, glancing up, her eyes swaying between me and my dad. Didn’t she say something about meeting at the bubbler thing?

I glanced across at her, and she gave me an uncomfortable smile and a fingertip wave.

“Ah, I see you’ve made friends already. Good,” my dad said, but he didn’t seem happy about who it was with. I shook off the thought.

As Storm placed her phone down the front of her shirt, I turned back to my father. Willing him to go away.

The way he looked down into my eyes so tenderly forced a lump into my throat.

“I’ll see you out front after three, then. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

Giving him a tight-lipped nod, I set off towards Storm, who had a big grin on her face.

“So, Daddy came to check up on you. That’s got to suck right?”

“I suppose,” I replied, feeling my father watching us.

I didn’t know what she expected me to say.

I couldn’t choose who my parents were. It was at that point that I realised I hadn’t thought about my mother all morning, and a wave of sadness spiralled through me.

It caused me to turn and wave towards my dad.

As I did so, his face lit up and he shyly did the same.

And then I did it. I smiled at him before turning away.

Storm slid her arm through mine. “Come on, I’ll show you where the true magic happens.”

And she did.

She took me out of the back of the school and up to a large field where boys were playing football and by that, I mean American football, not English football which they called soccer in the States. It was like all the shows set in American high schools rolled into one.

The pitch, or field as I knew they called it, was marked out with large H-shaped goals at each end. The area was huge, much bigger than our sports field at my school back home. Home, there it was, that word again.

This is now home, Molly.

I spied the bleachers towards one side where the boys were warming up. They wore their football uniforms with bulky body protection. Their sports tops showed a different number, and their surnames were printed above it on the back.

A tall teacher, clearly one of the coaches, was aggressively blowing his whistle and barking out instructions.

On the other side of the field, a group of girls were waving their pom poms. It was very energetic, and I winced as the huddle threw a smaller girl into the air and then caught her.

Cheerleaders. My stomach dipped as we headed straight towards them.

“I’m captain of the squad. We cheer the school football team. Can you dance?” Storm asked.

Once they had placed their team member safely on the ground, they all started high-fiving each other.

Each girl was caked in makeup, with big boobs and big hair.

Their uniforms, if you could call them that, left little to the imagination; grey and gold short dresses with The Heights emblazed across their chests.

“In a fashion,” I replied honestly.

And then, we were swamped . I felt like the new shiny penny as the girls fussed around us.

“You’re so gorgeous, is this natural?” One girl said, playing with my hair. I was inspected, prodded and poked .

Again, they all mimicked my accent, which made me feel more like a freak.

Storm introduced me as the new girl from London, which wasn’t accurate, but I didn’t say anything. I glued my smile on, feeling uncomfortable and fake.

Eventually, they settled down. The girl whom Storm pointed out as Tate didn’t come over. She was too busy having what appeared to be an argument with one of the jocks.

Responding to various questions as I was pushed and pulled around, the football that the boys were practising with came flying into the group.

Girls screamed and dodged it. From their reactions, you’d have thought a stink bomb had been thrown over.

The ball bounced into the centre of us, and the boy who’d been arguing with the girl, Tate, jogged over to retrieve it. She watched him from the same spot, her eyes narrowed, and her arms folded. Her body language screamed pissed off.

The cheerleaders parted to allow the guy through, all socking him playfully on the back and muttering.

“So, are you guys back together or what?” the girl who I think was called Courtney said to the guy.

He snorted as he picked up the ball in one hand, and in the other, he held a helmet. “Hell no.”

As he stood up slowly, he blatantly scanned my bare legs, “Well hello, beautiful,” he said with a white-toothed lopsided grin. The way he looked up and down my body with such enjoyment suggested he liked what he saw.

He was tall and blonde, his hair almost gold; too good-looking for his own good. His skin was so perfect that he looked airbrushed, the predictable type of handsome. Talk about a boyband worthy face.

Heat rushed into my cheeks as the other girls fell silent and started nudging each other with their elbows.

“Hi,” I replied with a shy wave.

“Where have they been hiding you?” he said, winking. His face then dropped as Tate shouted something. “Will the bitch just give it a rest,” he added under his breath.

“I suggest you go deal with Tate and stop eye-fucking other girls,” Storm huffed.

“In a minute, Summers, keep your panties on,” he chuckled with an eye roll.

“Fuck me, you’re pretty. The guys think I’m gay. Would you like to help me prove them wrong? ”

I couldn’t help but laugh as Storm feigned, shoving her fingers down her throat at his cheesy pick-up line. “Does that shit ever get you laid?” She scoffed.

“Every time, baby. What’s your name, sweetness?”

“Molly,” I replied before anyone else could cut me off.

“British too. Well, Molly. You’ve made my day.” I flinched as he surprised me by planting a kiss on my lips and then jogging off backwards. “Catch you later, gorgeous.”

As I watched him spin around, I could feel all eyes on me, and I touched my lips with my fingers.

It was then that my eyes locked with Tate’s.

Oh dear. She looked furious as she stared daggers at me before dragging her attention back onto Golden Boy.

He’d stopped in front of her but seemed to be concentrating on the football he was tossing up and down rather than her.

“Oh dear. That doesn’t bode well for you,” a girl with chocolate-coloured eyes and hair said.

“What?” I questioned, lowering my hand.

“Stop stirring, Hannah,” Storm scolded.

Once the footballer drama was over, the girls started chatting about someone called Straker and his party the previous weekend.

I wasn’t stupid. I had upset the Tate girl and was now being given the cold shoulder.

I faded away and found a space in the seating area at the back.

It’s not like I could have joined in as I wasn’t at the party they were so excited to talk about.

Storm did scan the area for me at one point with a puzzled expression, and when her questioning gaze locked on mine, I held up a finger and pointed to my phone. She seemed appeased and continued chatting with her squad.

Checking my messages, that lump in my throat doubled as I thumbed back through old messages between my mother and me.

Biting my lip, I lowered my phone. I couldn’t allow anyone to see my misery. If they did, there may be questions, ones I didn’t want to answer.

Then the whistle went, and my eyes were drawn to the boys on the field again.

And then I saw him, Hudson; number twenty-seven with the name Gage above it. So that was his surname. Hudson Gage, even his name was sexy.

It suited him.

Hudson was in the process of walking onto the field, flexing his arms before shoving a helmet on his head.

He looked even bigger in the protective gear he wore under his football strip (aka jersey, one of the cheerleaders had explained).

My eyes were drawn to how snug the tight-fitting white bottoms were.

The guy had drool-worthy muscled thighs as well as ticking every other box.

His whole body was so chiselled and bulky that the muscles threatened to escape his uniform.

He wasn’t close-up by any means, but I knew it was him straight away. All the players wore the same grey and white football kits, but he stood out from all the rest.

They were doing that thing they did at the beginning of the game, where they faced off against each other before the ball was passed between the central players' legs.

Those noises of shouting, bodies cracking together, yells from the girls, and whistles echoed around the field.

I watched as the boy who caught the ball was roughly taken to the ground, lost beneath another player. The whistle then went, and they dusted themselves off and resumed their positions. My lips curled into a smile as they patted each other's backs and fist-bumped. It felt so surreal.

The practice continued, repeating the same thing. Yells from the coach correcting or complimenting the players echoed around the area. I googled American Football on my phone as I watched.

It appeared the boys were engaged in a Scrimmage.

You learn something new every day. It was fascinating .

I’d never been one for watching sports, but the testosterone between the boys was unreal.

You could taste it in the air. All that male aggression and dick measuring was rife as they tackled each other roughly to the ground.

Moving my eyes away from where Hudson was standing with members of his team, I turned to where Storm was in the process of performing a gymnastic-type move by lifting her leg in the air. Gutsy, considering she wore her school uniform. I sure hoped she had shorts on.

A few whistles came from the boys on the field, and the girls laughed and giggled as Storm blew them a kiss.

Yep. I certainly didn’t fit in with that crowd. And that was the main question at the back of my mind. Would I ever fit in there?

And then my attention was dragged away as yelling started on the field.

Shit got real as a clash occurred between two players. Or should I say three, four, five? Fuck!

Things got out of hand rapidly. Players started pushing each other and squaring up to fight. One guy threw his helmet to the ground and then started trying to tug another guy's off his head roughly .

I hated violence of any kind, and I started to make my way down the stairs as half of the cheer squad ran onto the pitch, Storm leading at the front.

Time to go and be invisible.

The language coming from behind me as I left the sports fields was angry and unfiltered.

After making my way through a sea of people, I found the bathroom and locked myself in a cubicle.

Storm wouldn’t wonder where I’d gone. She was too busy getting involved in the drama on the field. I knew she was the type of girl who’d be into everything, and I couldn’t be dealing with that. I just needed to keep my head down and get on with it.

Checking my timetable, shit, schedule , my eyes landed on lunch. Only another hour

And then I would be halfway through my first day at Harbor Heights High.

Thank Christ.

Another wave of sadness rolled through me as I realised that the only person whom I wanted to talk to about my first day wouldn’t be there when I got home.