Deleted Scene from The Return Play

Chapter

Hudson

The moment Corey steps into view and his glassy eyes meet mine, I know he’s had too much to drink. I should call him a ride home, but knowing Corey, he’d refuse on principle alone. He’s pissed at me, deservedly so—I was a dick to him at practice, pushing him harder than any of the upperclassmen because I was angry with him. Angry that he’d meddled with Evelyn, annoyed that he hadn’t told me, and furious he skipped practice to hang out with her.

Corey raises his glass to me with a silent taunt and continues into the living room.

“Is everything okay?” Ashland asks, offering me a filled Solo cup. I hadn’t known she was going to be here until seeing her—that’s the thing with dating someone, your circles begin to cross. Only, I did my best to extricate myself from all of hers and she never did.

“Just football shit,” I say, stretching my shoulder as I search the crowd for Nolan or any excuse. I don’t need one, but it sure as hell makes things easier and lessens my chances of Aiko bitching to Dad about me being an asshole and Dad in turn feeling obligated to talk to me on her behalf.

“You really won’t even take a drink from me anymore?” she asks. “Do you really hate me that much?”

I glance down at her and the offered cup. “I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you, Ashland, I just don’t see a reason to complicate what this is.”

Her lips twist like she’s tasted something sour. “So, we’ve broken up and you won’t give me another chance or the opportunity to be your friend?”

I run a hand down my face, noticing the attention being drawn our way. I can still fly under the radar off campus because I only began starting in January of last year. Coach warned me that any semblance of anonymity will likely end this year. My attention stops on Mila and shifts to Evelyn at her side.

“Is this because of Evelyn?”

I turn, a ‘yes’ on my tongue because I haven’t been able to look at another girl since that first day I saw Evelyn down at the lake, a book perched on her legs as she sat there like a time capsule had been opened, and the girl who had always made my heart beat erratically and too fast stepped out as a woman.

“It’s because we’re better as friends,” I tell her, removing Evelyn from the equation because even if she hadn’t returned to Oleander Springs, Ashland and I learned the hard way we aren’t right together—twice.

“We were pretty great as more than friends,” she says, eyebrows arched, daring me to object.

Mila clears her throat, the sound exaggerated and too loud, her eyes comically wide with a silent warning as she looks at me, Nolan’s arms linked over hers and Evelyn’s shoulders, directing them to me.

Ashland smiles, linking her arm around mine, and squeezing it before releasing it to hug Mila and then Nolan. “Hey, guys. Good to see you again, Evelyn.” She hugs her last.

Evelyn’s smile is bright but a clear counterfeit. “You, too,” she says.

Aiko and Dad join our group, Seth and Corey behind them. Aiko gives a prize-winning smile at the sight of Ashland and me. “You guys are the cutest couple.”

“Except they’re not a couple,” Mila says.

“Sometimes people have to grow apart in order to grow together,” Aiko says, her voice assertive and firm.

“We’re friends,” I interject.

“They just set up a game of quarters,” Nolan says. “Anyone care to join us?”

“Yeah,” Corey says. “Let’s go.”

“I’m in,” Seth parrots, moving to Evelyn’s other side.

I never participate in drinking games for obvious reasons, but I nearly reconsider as they joke and gloat about previous games and then turn to leave, all the while, Evelyn refusing to meet my eye.

It’s nearly midnight, and I’ve stuck to my side of the party, watching Evelyn and Corey talk for well over an hour. I remind myself that maybe this is right, that her happiness and choice is worth more than my pride or desires.

“What are you doing?” Mila’s voice is accusing, rough as shattering glass.

I turn from Gordon, a friend from high school who doesn’t give a single shit about football and just wants to tell me about the van he’s planning to live in for the next year and drive around the states.

“Hey, Mila,” Gordon says, tipping his beer back. “Good to see you, too.”

Mila points at him. “You, too.” She turns her focus back to me. “What in the hell happened? This night has gone from bad to worse. Corey just offered to take her home and car shopping this week.”

Gordon lifts his brows with mild interest.

“Maybe that’s what she wants.”

Mila blinks furiously, her chin pulled back as though I’ve struck her. “And maybe you should pull your head out of your ass.”

Offense climbs through me, removing the detachment I’ve been focusing on for the past couple of hours, allowing betrayal, hurt, and resentment to shine through before anger rolls over them like a fresh coat of paint. “You were the one who told me this was a terrible idea.”

“I told you to be sure before acting because if you weren’t and you dicked around, we were going to lose one of our closest friends.”

“Did she say yes?” I ask.

“Does it matter?”

“Did she say yes?” I ask again.

“Why?”

“Because if he’s what she wants, I’m not going to intervene. She deserves to have her choice.”

Bewilderment and confusion color my best friend’s face before she shakes her head. “You’re fucking this up,” she says. “Don’t be a martyr to your own goddamn story. You know she wants you.”

“Then why did she say yes to him?”

“This is the dumbest miscommunication ever. Literally ever. I can’t have this conversation with you right now. I’m leaving, I just thought you should know she’s just as stubborn as you.” She leaves before I can ask her whatever in the hell that means.

Evelyn

“Do you miss Colorado?” I ask, fastening my seat belt as Corey puts his truck into reverse. The red and black interior is painfully similar to Hudson’s Jeep though the scent around me is a cross between the crispness of woods with the whisper of smoke that always seems, an impossible contradiction that often garners too much of my attention.

He nods as he places his hand behind my headrest and twists to look behind him though the large screen on the dash shows what’s behind his truck. “I do. I miss my friends and the mountains. And some days, I really miss the cold,” he says. “Cold here doesn’t compare to Colorado. But I think most of all, I miss the food.”

I laugh, appreciating the light note. “Food here is kind of weird, huh?”

His eyes flash to mine with a sense of shared knowing that says yes, you know what I’m talking about! the flicker of recognition makes my heart beat out of rhythm as I question if the connection—the radio station—I’ve always assumed to share solely with Hudson could also exist with others and I never looked or tried hard enough.

“The food here is all so mild. Like I want to find a Thai restaurant that makes me sweat and cry because it’s so damn spicy,” he says.

My grin returns. “You’d like the Mexican restaurant my family has been going to for years. The salsa makes your mouth burn so good. We’ve learned the secret is to keep eating, you only feel the burn when you stop.”

Corey’s laughter is polite but genuine as he inches around a car. “Do you miss Albuquerque? It’s probably a little different for you since you used to come here every summer, huh?”

Restless energy has me popping my knuckles, a habit that used to drive my mom crazy. She bought me dozens of fidget toys in hopes of breaking the practice, and eventually, I realized the tendency was linked to my stress levels and found other ways—more discreet ways—of releasing it which translated to running and immersing myself in the pages of books. I skip the sentiments and focus on the details. “I miss the silence at night,” I admit. “And the heat feels entirely different, and most people don’t realize how windy it can be, and the breeze can really help.”

“It doesn’t cool down here until December,” Corey says. “Last year, my friend sent me a picture of s inches of snow and it was still in the nineties.”

My smile is a reciprocated attempt of politeness, our conversation growing stale.

“But they have really good doughnuts and some of the cutest girls I’ve ever seen.” He looks at me then, his gaze playful and deliberate.

I don’t smile this time. I physically can’t though I want to. I want to like Corey and practice stepping out of my cloak consisting of the three-P’s with him, but as handsome and kind as he is my blood doesn’t heat at his nearness and I don’t imagine his mouth or hands on me. I clear my throat briefly. “Do you want to play football after graduating?”

His eyes darken, that same passion Hudson gets visible in Corey’s. “I sure as hell hope to, but we’ll see.”

“You’re a wide receiver, right?”

Pride has his shoulders squaring. “That’s right. Are you a football fan?”

My cheeks heat, making me grateful for the dark cab as I shake my head. “I didn’t even know what a wide receiver was until Mila and I drove to Camp.”

Corey cringes. “Let me guess, she said I run fast?”

“Something like that. There might have been a comparison to a pinball mentioned…”

His laughter is louder, a nice gritty, throaty sound that makes me smile in reply. He has a great laugh—of course he has a great laugh because I’m convinced the universe is testing me or maybe shouting at me and telling me that Corey is a better smarter choice.

“I’m jealous of the closeness you guys share,” I admit. “I played volleyball for years and was never very close with any of my teammates. You guys remind me of brothers.”

He looks at me as we hit a straightaway, the spark of recognition or understanding absent.

Silence seeps back into the truck and I feel the desperate need to fill it, fearing he might offer to take me car shopping or to another used bookstore or something else that might muddy the waters further. I didn’t plan to ride home with him, my intention was to have Mila leave with me with a few heavy hints, but as soon as the words were out of my mouth, Corey said he was ready to go and wouldn’t mind driving me and Mila’s pointed look felt like a test, one I failed when stumbling over a yes.

But Corey seems comfortable and so I try to force myself into comfort as well until he takes the turn into my aunt’s neighborhood.

“Tonight was fun.” He peers at me again, his dark hair bleeding into the darkness of the car, but his eyes shine, reflecting the lights off the dash. “You were a shark at quarters.”

“Beginner’s luck,” I tell him as the windshield wipers kick on and lightning illuminates the sky for a full second.

“That was a big one,” he says, turning his attention back to the windshield as my throat grows tight. “I do like the storms here,” he says, twisting the knife in my gut.

“Except that each one seems to hatch a million more mosquitoes,” I tell him, refusing to acknowledge my own recent obsession with thunderstorms that makes me feel turned on and needy and completely distracted. My tone makes me sound petulant, but Corey still laughs, good-naturedly.

“Well, from one transplant to another, I’m here anytime you start missing home or need a distraction from the million mosquitoes or anything else…” He pulls up out front of my aunt’s, the rain coming down in sheets, preparing to drench me, another stage set, another opportunity to change was thunderstorms represent. Corey releases his seat belt but leaves his truck on.

“Please, don’t worry about getting out. I’m good.” I lean closer to the door, prepared to make a run for the back door.

“What’s the story between you and Hudson?” he asks.

I blink through my surprise. “We’ve been friends forever.”

“Is that all or is there something more? Because I don’t want to cross a line if there is one.”

I stare at him, uncertain how to answer without revealing everything I’m not ready to admit aloud, certainly not to one of Hudson’s best friends.

He raises a brow, and pressure builds in my chest, realizing how long I’ve been silent.

Breath stills in my chest. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I mean, I do know. We’re friends.”

Corey leans back in his seat, placing his hand back on the steering wheel, his eyes patient and observant as he moves them from my face to where I’m popping each knuckle. “I misread the situation or maybe I just wanted to misread the situation,” he says, lifting a shoulder. “You’re the kind of girl that makes that too easy to do, but Hudson’s my brother, and I don’t want to complicate shit with us so let’s be friends, platonic friends.” His mouth pulls to one side with a smile that looks borderline devious. “At least for now. Hudson has six months, and then I’m in, full force.”