Then Dane breaks the silence again when he clears his throat. “You’re going to be graduating at the end of this year,” he says.
I glance over at him, a nervous energy thrumming through me.
“Yeah. Why?”
He finishes his set and straightens, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “Do you think you could do some extra sessions with me? I know I’m quick to come off my line and slow to get back. If you’ve got any tips to help…”
My lips tug into a grin. The kid is eager. I give him props for that. He’s got skill, and I know I’ll be leaving the team in good hands with him in front of the goals. “Yeah, no worries. Mondays are pretty hectic for me with classes, but we can do Wednesdays after training?”
“Perfect. Thanks, man.”
I catch a glimpse of Coach Johnson passing the gym doors, and I clap Dane on the back before rushing after our coach, a crazy idea forming.
Training is gruelling,which I expected after our draw on the weekend. It’s good to be back on the pitch with the boys at full capacity, and though I feel the lack of fitness after my illness, I push through, relishing the ache in my muscles and the burn in my chest. I’m out here doing what I love with the guy I’m falling for.
Noah keeps sneaking glances at me that set my body alight. Every time I catch his eye, adrenaline pulses through me, and it’s almost impossible to hide my smirk. Today has been insane, but in a good way. I’ve never felt more alive.
It doesn’t take my mates long to pick up on my change of mood.
During a three-v-three drill, Ritter nudges me in the ribs as he steals the ball off me. “Who are they?”
Noah’s gaze snaps to mine, giving Ritter the perfect opportunity to shoot a pass off to Blake.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I huff, jogging back into position.
“Bullshit,” Ritter laughs. “You’re grinning like someone slipped happy pills into your protein shake.”
I flip him off.
Blake flicks the ball back to Ritter. “You’re suspiciously cheerful, Kincaid.”
“Is this training or a mother’s group?” Noah grunts out.
“As if you’re not curious who’s got Zac smiling like that,” Ash Griffin, one of our midfielders, calls.
“I don’t give a shit where he sticks his dick, as long as we beat Hightower this week,” our captain shoots back, dropping back to intercept the pass to Ritter.
A snort of laughter escapes me. If only they knew.
“Come on,” Blake presses. “Who is it?”
I shake my head. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
“Is it serious?” Ritter asks.
I avoid looking at Noah, despite his heavy gaze boring into me. “My lips are sealed, dude. Let it go.”
Coach Johnson blows his whistle, saving me from further probing from my teammates, and as we reset the drill, Noah edges close enough for his arm to brush mine. When I catch the tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, heat burns me from the inside out.
It sucks I can’t just grab him and kiss him senseless whenever I want, but these stolen moments are just as good, sending my pulse racing and my heart skipping a beat.
He continues to tease me for the rest of training, and I’m surprised I can even concentrate on the drills, but somehow, I manage to keep a level head.
He’s already gone by the time I get out of the shower. Disappointment churns in my gut as I pull on my clothes, ignoring the guys’ chatter.
My mood lifts when I check my phone.
Noah: If we do this, we have to be careful.
