I sigh a little. "My brother. He's playing for the opposite team."
"Ah. I'm sure he'll go easy on him. If Maxipad wins this one, he's gonna be in the best fucking mood tonight. Note that. If you want something, ask tonight."
"I have everything I want," I say, smiling at the freshly clipped grass. In the corner of my eye, I see Bronson staring at me with the same unapologetic gaze Max has, and then he smiles. "You love my brother."
I grin down at my lap, my cheeks hot. "Stop it, Bronson."
My attention is drawn to the field as a voice introduces the away team. They run on and I scan the faces and numbers, hoping I don't see...
Frick.
But at least Konnor looks stronger than the last time I saw him. Maybe I won't wince every time Max tackles him...
At the introduction of the other team, I uncross my legs and lean forward in anticipation of Max's entrance. All the players jog onto the field. My Max: number three.
I hold my breath as Konnor stares in Max's direction. When he turns to search the bleachers, I breathe out slowly. His eyes land on me. I wave at him and smile. The one he returns is tight, but still visible even from a distance.
The players move to the sideline. The crowd quiets. Then the whistle blows and the two teams are slamming against each other in the scrum. The ball is fed through the centre.
And it's game on.
I absolutely love rugby, always have. It’s the perfect combination of agility, speed, and strength. It's fast-pacedand unpredictable. Of course, I'm rooting for Max and Konnor and not a specific team. When Konnor lands a try, I jump up to applaud. When the people around me glare, I let out a nervous laugh and sit back down.
I watch intently when Max is passed the ball. My breath catches in my throat. He runs, clutching the leather to his chest and moving with an agility that leaves me in awe. When he gets to a tight blockage in the line, he passes to someone else, who quickly scores a try. Max is then tossed the ball at the sideline where he kicks it through the goal.
We all go wild.
Bronson stands up and claps. "Fucking yeah!"
The girls in front of us call out Max's name between whistles and cheers. Max's teammates mob him, bounding around and patting his back. The huge easy grin on his face makes my heart flutter.
There really are two Max Butchers.
As the game progresses, I watch with pride. Max is powerful and tackles person after person as they attempt to break through the line. He's an aggressive player. My pulse races. Watching him out there has me in physical discomfort—needy in a way I've never felt before. I shuffle in my seat as I imagine letting him use my body for whatever deviant act he desires.
It's the third quarter. The score is forty to thirty-three in favour of Konnor's team. Konnor has the ball, but he is heading straight for Max and a tight barricade of big bodies. Max lowers his shoulder and darts to the side, preparing to tackle Konnor as he tries to weave through the defence. One of the other players aims for Konnor. It's all happening so fast. I want to close my eyes, but I don’t, despite expecting to see Konnor brutally tackled.
Just as he is about to reach him, Max trips. Falling to thegrass, he takes out his own player. Konnor leaps over them as they tumble to the dirt, then sprints to the try line and grounds the ball.
I blink at the field.
Did that just happen?
Did Max just pretend to fall and take out his own player?
My proud, arrogant Max?
No, my beautiful, family-orientated Max.
"Let me guess, number ten is your brother?" Bronson says, amusement in his voice.
I catch him smirking and shake my head in disbelief. "Did he do that on purpose?"
Bronson's expression says yes. "I've never seen him take a fall like that. I'm gonna give him so much shit."
Max is up and watching the commotion. Konnor glares at Max from the try line as his mates jump around him and celebrate. Max raises his fist in the air and then points in my direction, his eyes still trained on Konnor. I breathe out fast as Max jogs back into position as if nothing even happened. And it reminds me of the first time I saw him...
The Dingoes win fifty to forty-seven.
