Our teams crash together, a tangle of legs and arms and raw power.
I send the ball flying down the pitch, and a few of my guys head for enemy territory. The crowd is insane as we run down the pitch, rain starting to fall from the sky, making it much muddier and a lot more slick.
I make the mistake of looking into the crowd, and I immediately spot her. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. My girl. She sits with my sister and Haley who are sharing a box of popcorn.
Damnit, I wish I hadn’t noticed her because now I’m going to be distracted as hell. I mean, I knew she would be here. She doesn’t ever miss a game. I just wish I didn’t see where she was sitting.
She’s sitting there, looking perfect, with her Ellington U hat on her head and her green and white scarf around her neck, her long, dark hair in a braid over her shoulder.
Our gazes meet, and everything else, the noise, the mud, the crush of bodies, it all just falls away. My heartpounds in my chest from the adrenaline of the game and seeing her.
And then I’m on the ground.
Fucking shit! What the hell just happened?
“Better watch what you’re doing, Monroe. It’s a dangerous game. You could get hurt out here if you’re not paying attention,” Caleb Walker taunts as he stands over me, looking down at my sprawled-out body. The rain continues to fall, soaking through my clothes.
This fucking tool. He’s really going to pick a fight this early in the game?
Standing, I rolled my neck, feeling the crackle of tension in my muscles. He caught me off guard, but that’s only going to happen once.
I take one last look at Lainey, who’s wearing a worried expression. I give her a small smile before turning back to Walker and refocusing on the game.
My fingers twitch at my sides, the callouses on my palms rough against my skin. It’s taking everything in me right now not to knock the guys front teeth out.
Mason appears next to me, placing his hand on my shoulder.
“Fella’s, fella’s. Let’s just play the game, yeah?” he says casually. Walker gives Mason a cocky grin, then begins to back off.
“Yeah, let’s play the game, Monroe,” he says as he turns away and runs back to his team. He’s the one that hurt my sister. He’s the dick. He deserved the last time I punched him in his ugly face. Now he wants to act all tough?
“Dude, keep it together. Don’t let the guy bother you,” Mason tells me, his hair a wet mop on the top of his head, his face covered in dirt. I know he’s right. I shouldn’t let it affect me.
The referee’s whistle cuts through the all the noise, and I follow Mason back onto the pitch. The crowd cheers as we take our positions, and my adrenaline spikes. I love this feeling. This rush I feel when the crowd roars and the whistle blows.
Keeping my gaze straight ahead, I focus on the team in front of me. I watch their body language and facial expressions to try and determine what their next play is going to be. Walker leans over to his guy on the right of him and seems to say something. The other dude shakes his head, and a devilish smirk appears on his face. My stomach tightens. I know that look. That’s the look that says they have a plan, it’s not good.
Looking back into the stands, I watch Lainey as her hands grip the railing in front of her. She’s watching me intently, waiting for my next move. I want to know what she’s thinking. What’s going through her head?
Her brows are furrowed, and she looks like she’s studying me. Like she’s taking in everything she sees and trying to piece some sort of puzzle together. Lainey says something to Ellie, and my sister nods before looking back at the field.
“Holland, go!” a voice next to me yells. Fuck, I’d almost forgotten where I was. When I’m looking at her, all the noise, the pressure, the weight of the game… it all fades. There’s only her. That’s fucking terrifying.
One of Concoran’s guys is suddenly right in front of me, and I feel the impact shudder up his spine, the grind of muscle against muscle as the ball shoots back, clean and fast, and then we’re running.
My lungs burn, but I don’t slow down. I feint left, then burst right, my legs pumping as hard as they can. Walker lunges at me, but I’m already past him, the wind rushing in my ears as I charge toward the try line. I can hear him closing in, but I’m faster.
When I can feel his presence right on me, I sidestep, twisting and slamming the ball down over the line. The stadium erupts in cheers and applause. I watch as Caleb Walker stands in the middle of the pitch with his fists at his side. He looks absolutely pissed, and I’m loving every second of it. Smug prick.
With five minutes left, we’re up by seven. The Concoran scrumhalf kicks deep, the ball arcing into the sky. My eyes never leave its spin as I call for the mark, my voice rough, and catch it with little effort. Bursting into a run, my teammates fan out around me.
Walker runs at me head-on, and I brace myself for the impact. There’s no time to move out of the way before we collide into each other, each of us falling to the ground. The wind is knocked out of me as I stare into the dark, starless sky. A sharp pain radiates through my shoulder as I push myself back up. I wince at the pain but grit my teeth to keep from showing any weakness.
The final whistle blows.
For a second, there’s silence. The crowd seems to have not caught up with the quick succession of events.Moments later, cheers, stomping, and the music from the band fill my ears.
We did it. We fucking did it. We beat Concoran, and even though it was a hell of a game, we pushed through and worked our asses off.
