Player (A Secret Baby Sports Romance)(102)
“Don’t call her that.” Reagan’s snapping at me as she gets off the machine. She breezes past me, shouldering me out of the way as she goes to hug her sister; “What’s up, Chels?”
I can see Chelsea’s stormy, guarded facade start to fall as her older sister hugs her, and then her face crumbles as the tears begin to drop.
“It’s Andrew, he- with her!”
I hate seeing girls cry. Seriously, no matter how bitchy Chelsea just was to me for a girl I’ve met all of like once, I instantly want to put my arms around them both and tell her that whatever it is, it’s going to be ok.
Just then though, Reagan looks up and sees me staring at them. Her face curls into a snarl; “Do you mind?”
I shrug, not ready to get bounced that easily; “What’s the problem?”
Chelsea whirls on me with a sneer on her lips; “Oh what, billionaire womanizer Hudson Banks has some magical advice on cheating boyfriends I suppose?”
It’s almost funny when you talk to people who clearly have no idea where you came from, and who you really are.
“I do, actually;” I shrug again; “Ditch him.”
Chelsea rolls her eyes; “Gee, thanks, Hudson but it’s not that simpl-”
“No, it really is.” Reagan is staring at me with a strange mix of loathing and curiosity, but I force myself to concentrate on Chelsea; “He’s not going to suddenly just change, Chelsea. As a former lying, cheating asshole, I feel pretty confident in telling you that.” I level my eyes at her; “Just ditch him.” I can see her frown begin to fade as my words sink in; “You’re a strong, confident, beautiful girl, Chelsea, and you don’t need dead-weight like whoever this total idiot is holding you down.”
Chelsea’s fierce look is gone as stares at me with a whole new, much nicer expression on her face; “Um, thanks Hudson.” She looks confused for a second, as if amused that those words came out of my mouth, before her face suddenly breaks into a big grin as she smiles at me; all traces of her former sneer gone. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Reagan shooting a venomous look at her sister, as if she’s somehow traitorous just for not acting like a total bitch to me like Reagan is. I’m almost ashamed to admit the sense of smug satisfaction I get in seeing it.
“He really is kind of an idiot, isn’t he?” Chelsea shrugs in a defeated way, and I find myself opening even more.
“To cheat on an Archer girl like you?” I shrug and wink at her; “Total idiot; must be blind too, which almost makes me feel bad for him.”
Chelsea blushes and grins at me and I see Reagan roll her eyes dramatically and turn back to reach for the water bottle she’s left on the stair-master machine. For whatever reason, I suddenly feel compelled to push her buttons even more on this.
“Why don’t we all go out to lunch? My treat, of course.”
Chelsea’s nodding eagerly but Reagan cuts her off; “Thanks but no thanks, we came here in gym clothes, remember?”
I wave off her concerns like they’re nothing, because they aren’t with the resources I have; “I’ll have one of my guys bring something here for you to wear. Just go hit the shower and I’ll be sure there’s a selection waiting for you when you’re done.” The dichotomy between Chelsea’s impressed and beaming face and Reagan’s look of “are you kidding me” disdain almost makes me laugh, but I compose myself; “So, that’s a yes then?”
I can see just the tell-tale signs of a smile teasing the corners of Reagan’s frown as she shakes her head at me; “Who are you, God.”
“Just ‘Hudson’ will do.”
She rolls her eyes; “You know what I fucking mea-”
“Well right now, I’m your lunch date. So go hit the showers sweet-cheeks.”
7
Reagan
P A S T
“So, how was Dad last night?”
Chelsea looks up from her homework and frowns at me. I’m supposed to be doing the same thing, especially since I’ve just started sending transcripts to colleges, but I’m mindlessly paging through TV channels instead. “You should have at least gotten on to say hi, Ray.”
I shrug; “It sounded like you were having a hard time hearing him anyways, wherever he is.”
“Angola.”
“What?”
“Angola; that where he is.”
I roll my eyes and sneer; “Of course he is.”
Chelsea slams her homework down and glares at me; “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means wherever there’s some third world conflict with terrible people willing to spend money of disputable origins, that’s pretty much where you can guarantee our father will be, Chelsea.”