“When I’m ready.”
His stomach rumbles, and I smirk, brushing my nose over his before pressing a kiss to his lips.
“Come on, Romeo. Let’s get you fed.”
Chapter 38
Zac
The team beat BHU three-two, and a week later, I’m pacing the sideline right beside Coach Johnson as Noah and my teammates play Macquarie. We need to win by two to secure the championship on points.
It’s the sixty-second minute and we’re down one-nil. Macquarie are on the attack after Jasper’s shot on goal went wide. The midfield works to close them down, but the ball slips past our first line of defence. My chest tightens as Dane shifts on his line. I can practically feel the tension radiating off him, remembering all too well how it felt standing there reading the play and trying to anticipate the direction of the ball.
Noah shouts something I can’t hear from here, but I know his signals, the way he positions himself to force their striker wide. Ritter hustles on the left, putting pressure on their winger, frustration flickering across his face when the ball slips through. The ball swings towards the penalty box. Macquarie’s striker fakes left and drives right, but Noah reads it instantly, cutting off the pass by sticking his foot out at just the right moment to deflect the ball sideways, buying some breathing room.
Thecrowd screams encouragement as Ritter clears the ball upfield to Doyle, who takes one touch and passes a clean through ball to Jasper. Blake times his run perfectly, slipping past his defender with some fancy footwork. He connects with Jasper’s cross, and the ball sails past their keeper to tie the game.
I let out a whoop, and Coach Johnson whirls around to narrow his eyes at me. “Back on the bench, Kincaid. I’m not dealing with your mother’s wrath if you overexert yourself.”
I open my mouth to argue, but his pointed look has me snapping it shut again, and I trudge over to the bench.
My knee bounces as I physically have to force myself to stay on the pine.
Our next scoring opportunity comes in the seventy-seventh minute from a sloppy play by Macquarie. Griffin takes advantage, playing the ball back to Noah, who scans the pitch for options. He makes a run downfield before switching down the right side. Doyle passes to Everett inside the box just as a Macquarie defender slide tackles him, sweeping Everett’s legs out without making contact with the ball.
The whistle blows for a penalty, but all eyes are on Everett to make sure he’s not injured. He grimaces, limping slightly, and Coach Johnson yells out to him, but he shakes his head, walking it off.
Blake lines up for the penalty and has no problem slotting it past their keeper. The boys celebrate, but Macquarie won’t lie down. They come back firing, having the next three shots on goal—one goes wide, Dane saves the next, and the third hits the crossbar before Noah clears it, and we breathe easy for now.
We still need one more goal to win the championship on our home turf, but as the clock ticks down, Macquarie’sdefence locks in, making it hard for us to get it into our forward line. Noah’s just as focused, eyes scanning, every muscle coiled and alert as he repositions himself and directs his teammates.
There’s a moment of panic, and my heart’s in my throat when Macquarie break through our defence and their right winger takes his shot. Time stands still as it sails towards Dane in slow motion, and for a second, I worry that he jumps too late, but he gets a tip to it, and it goes out for a corner.
As they set up, Noah calls players back, Dane directing them where he wants them. We can’t risk a last-minute goal when we still need to lock away the game. I hold my breath as the kick connects. There’s a mad scramble in the box, then our players scatter quickly when Dane saves the goal.
“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” I mutter as he plays it out to Ritter.
Macquarie are slow to switch into defence, and he takes advantage of it, sending the ball up the line to Jasper, who wins a one-on-one. Blake’s covered by two defenders, but that leaves Everett free, and the defenders don’t realise until it’s too late. The ball sails into the back of the net, and the whistle blows—three sharp blasts.
Game over.
We won three-one.
The championship is ours.
The roar of the crowd is deafening, but all I hear is the thundering of my heart as Beckford’s number seven barrels into my arms, his breath warm against my neck as he clings to me in this moment.
“You did it,” I shout over the chaos.
Noah pulls back, and his infectious grin unravels me. Then his lips crash into mine, and I’m swept up in the moment, kissing him back before my brain catches up. Thecrowd, the noise, the pressure of the championship—all of it melts away. The magnitude of him claiming me in front of thousands of fans, bold and unafraid, isn’t lost on me, and I’m powerless to resist him.
Our teammates crowd around us, and I reluctantly pull away, catching my breath. Noah’s grin hasn’t faded, and he entwines our fingers, keeping me close as the chaos of celebration swirls around us.
Blake claps Noah on the back, Everett hoots, and Ritter throws his arms around me, hugging me tight. It hurts that I wasn’t out on the pitch with them, but I’m grateful they’re including me in this moment. I bump fists with Dane while Jasper bounces around us like a kid on a sugar high.
With a rocky start to the season, no thanks to the tension between me and Noah, this moment had seemed like a fever dream, but we did it. We won the fucking championship for the second year in a row.
Coach Raynor gets our attention, and the team heads back to the middle of the pitch to shake hands with the opposition. I hang back, flinching when a hand clamps down on my shoulder, and I meet Coach Johnson’s amused gaze.
