Austin scrubs a hand over his face and wipes it on his jersey. Desire stirs low in my belly, spreading through my limbs like a current. The man is dripping sweat, and I know I should be grossed out, but I’m so not. It’s possible he’s never looked sexier than he does in this moment with glistening muscles and ruddy cheeks. I’m tempted to scrap this whole discussion and invite him back to my place.
Which is exactly why I need to focus on the matter at hand.
“Nothing to worry about.” He smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Which mean he’s shutting me out or he’s falling back on his captain’s laurels, assuming it’s his job to shoulder all the hard stuff. “Just guy stuff.”
“Guy stuff?” I snort. He can’t actually expect me to buy the half-assed lie. The wind howls around us, and dried leaves cartwheel across the empty practice field. “Try again, Reid, because I’m not buying it. Why did Johnson and Tate stare me down when you said the baseball team was talking shit?”
Frustration flashes in his eyes and he crosses his arms over his chest, helmet dangling from his right hand.
“Oh, for crying out loud. Can we not do the whole strong and silent thing? I have a right to know,” I say, determined not to let him stonewall me. “Coach just singled me out in front of the entire team, and he’s made it clear he’d be more than happy to give me the boot if I don’t walk the line.”
Austin raises a brow, the corner of his mouth inching skyward. “Coach isn’t going to bench you because I took a swing at some asshole from the baseball team. Our rivalry predates you joining the team.”
It sounds so reasonable when he says it, but I haven’t forgotten Coach’s hot breath on my face or his prior warnings. “Yeah, well, forgive me if I’m not willing to stake my scholarship on your word. And stop deflecting. What happened?”
He gives a long-suffering sigh. I can’t tell if it’s in reaction to my persistence or the story he’s about to tell. “Johnson and a couple of the guys were supposed to be keeping an eye on the recruits while I was at study group. Instead, they got them wasted and decided to chill with our rivals. It was a total cluster. Campus police showed up right after one of their guys made a derogatory remark about you.”
I frown, fighting the urge to ask exactly what was said.
It doesn’t matter, and I doubt Austin would tell me anyway. I can’t decide if I’m touched he had my back or annoyed I’ve become exactly the kind of distraction Coach Collins was worried about. Assault charges against Waverly’s golden boy would’ve put an end to the season. No way I want that kind of guilt hanging over my head.
“You’re not my boyfriend. I don’t need you going all territorial, and I don’t need you to fight my battles,” I say, poking him in the chest for good measure. Fat lot of good it does because,shoulder pads.
“I know you don’t need me to fight your battles, but I wasn’t going to stand there and let some douchebag disrespect you.” He presses his lips flat, the hard set of his jaw like granite. “Or the team.”
“Call me crazy, but I doubt you would’ve reacted so strongly if he’d been talking about Coop. Or Vaughn. Or basically anyone but me.”
His silence confirms my suspicions. Because despite the rules we’ve set, I’m not just one of the guys. And neither is he. I start to reach for him and catch myself, my hand freezing in midair.
“This is exactly what I didn’t want. What Coach didn’t want. Maybe we should call it quits.” I pull my hand back and rake it through my hair, tucking loose strands behind my ear. “I know we said the end of the season, but if Saturday night is any indication, things between us are already getting too messy. Neither of us can afford the distraction, and I don’t want to be responsible for screwing up your season.”
“Fuck that,” he says, slashing his left hand through the air. He takes a breath and closes his eyes, gathering his composure before he speaks again. “We aren’t hurting anyone, and the situation Saturday night was a onetime deal. It changes nothing between us.”
“Doesn’t it? You took a swing at some guy because you didn’t like what he said about me. Pretty sure that’s a game changer.” It’s sweet that Austin wanted to defend my honor, but it doesn’t change the fact that maybe we’re getting in too deep.
“It won’t happen again,” he assures me, blue eyes flaring with determination. “I was upset about the guys getting the recruits drunk. I let my temper get the best of me.”
“I don’t know. Seeing Coach fired up today…” I bite my lip. “We’re taking a big risk.”
“Trust me, today was nothing,” he says, tracing a finger along my jawline. There’s a tenderness in his eyes, in the way he studies my face, that I haven’t noticed before. My pulse leaps in response, and I curse my traitorous mind for imagining meaning that isn’t there. “Besides, it’s not that big a risk. We aren’t breaking NCAA rules.” He lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his smoldering gaze. “I’m not ready to give you up yet, and I don’t think you’re ready to give me up either. The way you scream my name? There isn’t another man on campus who can give you that kind of pleasure. And I think you know it, don’t you, gorgeous?”
“Yes,” I agree, hating the breathless sound of my voice. Problem is, he’s right. I’m not ready to go back to the way things were. Not yet, anyway. My body is already protesting at the mere suggestion. “But we have to be more careful. No more unnecessary risks.”
Austin grins down at me, his dimple sending my racing heart into overdrive. “You worry too much. We aren’t going to get caught.”
35
AUSTIN
“Reid. My office. Ten minutes.”Coach barks the order and turns on his heel without waiting for a reply.
Fuuuck.What now? I had a good practice. The team’s looking solid, and everyone’s well rested coming off the bye week. The team’s been on virtual lockdown since Monday’s practice. No way have any of the guys had time to get into trouble. Besides, he wouldn’t give me ten minutes to clean up if he was really pissed. And he probably would’ve made practice a living hell. Sure, it was rough, but no worse than usual.
I strip off my pads and notice Coop eyeing the bruise on my right side. It’s nearly faded, but it’s still ugly as shit.
“Still a lot of games to play,” Coop says, sliding his helmet into his locker. His tone is neutral, but we’ve been friends long enough I can read the tension in his shoulders and in the pinched corners of his mouth. Something’s bothering him. “Maybe do the rest of us a favor and get rid of the ball next time. Better to lose a down than a QB.”
I grit my teeth. It was a late hit and he knows it, but that isn’t the point. Even if the refs had called it, I’d still be banged up. I know he’s right. Smart players don’t take unnecessary risks, not when it could blow the whole season. Problem is, when I’m on the field and the adrenaline’s pumping, I have to be the best. There’s no other option. Sometimes that means making the play, the hell with the risk.
