“Me too,” he says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Can we do this again?”
“Yeah,” I say, smiling. “I’d like that.”
He leans down and kisses me; it’s different, and it feels new and exciting.
When he pulls back, I spot Landon’s silhouette in the living room window, and my stomach drops knowing he’s been watching.
“Good night, Abby,” Tate says, unaware of our voyeur.
“Good night,” I reply, my gaze lingering on him as he returns to his car.
I take a deep breath and open the front door, preparing myself for the interrogation that no doubt waits for me.
Chapter Twenty
Tate
We played like shit. Everyone knows it.
The other team dominated from the first period, and by the third, we were simply going through the motions. This happens when you lose focus—if your head isn’t in the game.
Levi plops down on the bench next to me, his jersey pulled half off, sweat dripping down his neck. He looks frustrated and angry, which is understandable, given that we just lost.
“Why the hell are you smiling?” he asks. “We got our asses handed to us out there.”
I force my face into a neutral expression. “I’m not smiling.”
“You so fucking are,” Levi insists, nudging my shoulder. “We got destroyed out there. So why are you sitting here looking like it’s the best day of your life?”
The answer is simple: Abby was watching.
She drove all the way out here for an away game that was close to home, and she was sitting in the stands wearing a blackT-shirt that read “Bench Me, Coach” in white letters across her chest. Every time I looked at her, I felt heat creeping up my neck and a pull in my stomach.
I’m completely fucked.
“Just thinking about something,” I reply blankly.
Levi doesn’t look convinced, but lets it drop as more of the team members file into the locker room, their expressions matching his frustration. The loss hangs over all of us like a dark cloud, and nothing is going to change that.
I watch distractedly as the players filter out of the locker room after my brother has torn verbal shreds off them. It was deserved; they know they can play a lot better than they did today.
I’m gathering my things when a large hand grabs my arm and pulls me into an alcove. I barely have time to register what’s happening before Landon has me pinned against the wall, his body close enough that I can smell his cologne.
“What the fuck?” I whisper-yell, looking around to make sure no one saw.
“Tell me you weren’t smiling up at Abby the entire game,” Landon says, his jaw clenched. “Like some lovesick puppy.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You’re a terrible liar.” Landon pushes closer. His eyes are dark, and there’s something possessive in the way he’s looking at me. “Did you forget all about my cock? And what it felt like to have my hands on you?”
I swallow hard; this is dangerous. Anyone could walk by and see us—how close we are.
“We can’t do this here,” I whisper. “I mean it, Landon. There is too much at stake.”
“Is there?” Landon asks, and he’s so close now I can feel his breath against my neck. “Or are you just afraid?”
“I’m realistic,” I snap, trying to pull away, but find myself trapped. “You’re a player on my team. If anyone finds out about us, my career is over. And your career could be affected too.”
