“Two minutes,” he says. “Text, call, whatever, but tell your teammates to get down here now or they’ll be running laps.”
Sebastian fights a smile. I’m imagining he’s thinking about Kellan running laps.
Suddenly, he goes still. His eyes bug out of his head. “Thefuck?” he says incredulously.
I turn to see who or what he’s looking at. It’s Kellan, wearing his practice uniform. He scans the field, looking for something. His gaze passes over me and onto Sebastian, where it lingers. I’m staring and I don’t care.
He looks good. Really good.
Confession time: I’ve had a crush on Kellan Dumont since the day he stepped foot onto the field. His dark hair, long enough to cover his ears, with the slight curl at the end. The deep, deep brown eyes that, when the light catches them just right, showcase flecks of gold around the rim. The chiseled jaw and a smile that is never far off. Don’t even get me started on how his clothes fit him. Even now, my gaze is drawn to the breadth of his shoulders, the tapered waist leading into long, muscled legs.
Kellan isn’t interested in me though. I’m sure of it. He has a different guy every week, and none of them look like me, which makes me assume I’m not his type, appearance-wise. It doesn’t stop me from trying though. I swear I’m not a creep or a stalker. I just want to get to know him better. Sometimes I’ll ask him out for coffee or to watch a game at one of the bars. Sometimes he says yes.
My crush hasn’t interfered with being teammates, nor my being captain. It’s something I stow away, but every once in a while I take out to inspect.
Sebastian continues to curse under his breath. I hear a “bastard” and then a “fucking lunatic” and lastly “stupid fucker.” Wonder what he’s so upset about. As far as I know, he and Kellan get along pretty well, all things considered. Six months ago I wanted to put my fist through Sebastian’s face at least once a practice for being such a conceited asshole, but he’s made leaps and bounds since then.
“What’s up?” I ask Sebastian. My attention remains locked on Kellan.
“Be right back.” Despite practice starting in two minutes, he strides over to Kellan, yanks him off the field, and hauls him inside the locker rooms.
Chapter 3
Noah
As soon as Sebastian drags me into the men’s locker room, I brace myself for the inevitable explosion. His anger is a physical thing. It prowls back and forth like an animal, straining against its leash. The door slams shut behind us. No escape now.
“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” he asks, low and dangerous.
Gone is the gleam in his eye, the looseness, the arrogance. What I’m seeing is one of Sebastian’s moods. He has every right to be suspicious. Not only am I at the athletic complex—which I’ve never visited in my life—but I’m wearing my twin’s jersey. I don’t care about sports. Never have, never will. I’ve never even attended one of Kellan or Sebastian’s games. Does that make me a shitty brother? Maybe. Do I care? No.
I work a few kinks out of my jaw. I’m feeling dangerous myself. “Are you going to let go of me?”
He blinks, looks down to where his hand is clamped around my arm. He steps back, giving me space. “Sorry.”
To give myself time to think, I study the locker room. It looks no different than what you see in every sports movie ever made. The lockers are painted in Notre Dame’s colors: blue and gold. Showers and bathroom stalls. Glaring white walls.
First thing I need to do is figure out how to explain the plan to Sebastian without him freaking out. Soccer is his obsession, his everything. Anything to sabotage his newly signed contract with the US Men’s National Team is a bad idea. This whole thing is ridiculous, but there’s no going back now. I said yes, and I’m a man of my word.
Lacing my fingers together, I begin, “I’m assuming Kellan told you—”
“Kellan told me nothing, but that’s no surprise, as his ideas are shit.” He brushes the dark blond curls from his face, having not put on his headband yet. Anger hollows out his cheeks.
Of course. My twin decided to leave the explanation to me. Unsurprising. Might as well rip the bad-aid off quickly. “He asked be to fill in for him—”
“Oh, my fucking God.” Sebastian sounds like he’s in severe pain. He whirls and stalks away, pivots back around to say, one hand clenched into a fist at his side, “Are you kidding me?”
Stay calm.Though my heart rate has definitely kicked up a notch. Confrontation is one of my least favorite things. Makes me want to crawl into a hole and not come out until the danger has passed. I’m already regretting agreeing to Kellan’s idea for this reason alone. “It’s only for two weeks.”
“Noah.” Sebastian laughs and laughs and laughs. It’s slightly concerning. “You realize we have our first play-off game in three weeks, right?”
I didn’t know that, actually. “Well—”
He swears. His other hand clenches into a fist. My gaze stays on them. Not that I think he’s going to ram one into my face, but with him, you never know. “Is he going to be back by then?”
“Clearly if he’s only going to be gone for two weeks.”
My brother takes a few deep breaths. Blood has darkened his cheeks. We stand on opposite sides of the locker room, and that’s probably a good thing.
