"I like you in jeans."
I try not to beam like a massive dork because I've been planning this outfit for days.
In an hour, I'll be sitting on the bleachers at Preston Retreat University, watching Max play for The Dingoes. Two wingers on his team have dropped out and his coach has begged him to fill in.
I raise a blonde eyebrow at him. "I thought you liked me in skirts and dresses?"
"I do. But... your arse in those jeans." He bites his fist as he grins, his mouth a slash of mischief that cuts up his beautiful face. "I'm gonna be all over that after the game."
My cheeks pinch with a smile. "Stop it."
Still grinning to himself, Max leans down and starts filling his sports bag with his jersey and shoes. I let my eyes take him all in. A powerful physique wrapped in taut, tattooed skin that's both a young man about to enjoy a recreational sport and a dangerous heir to an underground empire. He's so much more right now than most people are in their entire lives.
I wander across his room to the punching bag and lay a few light hits on it. My knuckles ache immediately.
"Frick. That'shard."
He laughs and pulls on a shirt. "What did you expect?"
I giggle a little, cupping my fist. "Some padding."
"No. You'll have bruised knuckles after a session on the bags."
"So, do you guys all box?"
He slings his bag over his shoulder. "Just forfitness."
"But Butch is a professional boxer?"
Max opens the bedroom door, waving me through. "Was."
As we take Romeo to the game, I jiggle in the passenger seat, nervous about sitting on The Dingoes' side of the bleachers because they're playing against The Browns—Konnor's team. I'm not even sure if my brother will be on the field or if he'll be sitting the whole game on the bench. After taking time off to focus on his abstinence from alcohol, maybe he's also deferred from rugby... I doubt it though. He has a partial athletic scholarship, so I imagine that only stands if he's playing.
My belly churns and Max glances at my leg, watching it vibrate with nervous tension.
"You nervous?"
I look at him. "You know you're up against Konnor's team."
A huge grin spreads across his cheeks, his dimple mocking the world with its irresistibility. "Can't wait."
"Max. I love my brother. Play nice."
"I will." He is still grinning, and it's cool and confident.
"Ugh. You're a menace."
Once we arrive, Bronson takes over as chaperone—apparently, I need one—and Max disappears into the sports block after demanding a good luck kiss. Bronson and I find a spot on the bleachers, and I buy a hotdog and chips.
Game food is the bomb.
The sky is crystal clear, blue and picturesque, but the wind has a nasty nip to it. I'm relieved my skin is completely covered.
As I search for Konnor or Blesk, I take a big bite out of my hotdog.
Bronson laughs and I tilt my head at him, searching his clear blue eyes. "What?"
"Nothing." He chuckles and helps himself to my chips. "Who are you looking for?"
