The rain drums against the dorm window, turning Whitland’s campus lights into streaks of gold and blue. The room smells like pizza, detergent, and whatever body spray Harlen drowned himself in after practice. Music hums low from a Bluetooth speaker — something chill, enough to fill the silence without killing the vibe.
Hudson Fox sits on his bed in a gray hoodie and black sweats, his dark hair still damp. His framed jersey — number 12 — hangs above the headboard, and his cleats sit perfectly lined by the door. Everything about the place feels balanced, like him: calm, focused, a little too perfect for a college guy.
Across the room, Marcus lounges in a beanbag, scrolling through his phone. Harlen’s leaning on the dresser, tossing a lacrosse ball. Levi’s half-lying across the rug with a slice of pizza in one hand and his controller in the other.
Marcus glances up. “You know if we beat Eastbrook tomorrow, that’s four years in a row, right? You’ll literally go down in Whitland history.”
Hudson grins faintly. “It’s not about history. It’s about finishing strong.”
Levi groans. “There it is. Fox with another quote for his biography.”
Harlen smirks. “He can’t help it, man. It’s the Hudson Fox handbook: stay humble, lift heavy, and somehow still make every girl on campus fall in love.”
Hudson shakes his head, laughing. “You’re all idiots.”
Marcus points a pizza crust at him. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Half the cheer squad’s still mad you ghosted them.”
Levi whistles. “Ghosted? Nah, he’s too smooth for that. He’s the ‘wish you the best, take care’ type. Leaves them smiling while they’re crying in the group chat.”
Harlen grins. “Yeah, and every dude on campus still likes him. That’s how you know he’s built different.”
Hudson rubs the back of his neck, trying not to smile. “Can we focus? Eastbrook’s linebacker—Carter Blake—he bites early. If we fake the run, we can hit a quick slant. Marcus, that’s you.”
Marcus nods, sitting up. “Got it. You trust me with it?”
Hudson nods without hesitation. “Always.”
Harlen shakes his head. “Man’s loyal on and off the field. You’re like… annoyingly perfect.”
Hudson chuckles. “Perfect? Not even close.”
Levi sets his slice down, studying him. “You ever get nervous before a game?”
Hudson hesitates, spinning the football in his hands. “Yeah. Every time. Not because I’m scared — it’s just… it means something. We don’t just play for us. It’s the team, the fans, the school. That’s pressure, but it’s a privilege.”
The room goes quiet for a moment, the kind of silence that feels solid, like they all understand it.
Then Marcus breaks it with a grin. “You sound like a coach, bro. I swear you’ve got speeches loaded in your DNA.”
Hudson smirks. “Maybe. Or maybe I just care more than I let on.”
Harlen tosses the lacrosse ball his way. “You care too much. That’s your curse.”
Levi grins. “Nah, it’s his charm. That’s why he wins games and hearts.”
Hudson laughs, tossing the ball back. “You’re all clowns.”
Marcus stands, stretching. “Clowns who’ll make history tomorrow. Four straight wins, baby.”
Levi points at Hudson. “Tell us you’ll party if we win. None of that humble crap.”
Hudson shrugs, smiling. “Fine. You get the W, I’ll show up. No speeches.”
Harlen laughs. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Rain pounds harder outside, thunder echoing through the night. The lights flicker once, then settle again.
Hudson leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Tomorrow, we go all in. No regrets, no holding back. Just heart.”
Marcus nods. “Game on?”
Hudson meets his eyes, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Game on.”
The boys erupt in easy laughter, the kind that comes from years of playing, sweating, fighting, and still choosing each other. The room feels electric — not from nerves, but from brotherhood.
Outside, the rain keeps falling, steady and relentless, like the rhythm of the night before a win. And Hudson Fox — quarterback, leader, golden boy with too many stories and too much heart — just leans back, spinning that football in his hands.