Zac: Careful is my middle name.
Noah: I’m serious. I don’t want anything to happen to you.
Zac: It sounds like you care about me.
Noah: I do care about you.
I stare at my phone, unable to believe he’s admitting how he feels. Warmth spreads through me, but it quickly disappears when Ritter throws his arm around my shoulder, and I lock my phone screen before he can catch sight of it.
Okay, maybe this sneaking around thing isn’t all fun.
“That her? Or him?” my teammate asks with a grin, nodding at my phone.
“None of your business,” I say, shrugging him off me.
My phone vibrates, but I don’t look at it, knowing it will be from Noah.
“I’m happy for you,” he says, seriousness coating his tone. “They’re a lucky person.”
I shoot him a playful look. “Careful, Ritter. Anyone would think you’re jealous it isn’t you.”
“Nah, you couldn’t handle my anaconda.” He laughs, cupping his crotch and blowing me a kiss.
Blake snorts. “Dude, anyone who talks about the size of his dick like that is compensating for something.”
“Compensate this.” Ritter flips him off.
“Ladies, please,” Everett pipes up, joining us from the showers, a towel wrapped around his waist. “If anyone’s going to be bragging about what they’re packing, clearly it’s me.”
Blake groans. “Have you even hit puberty yet, pipsqueak?”
A few of our lingering teammates laugh.
At nineteen, Everett’s one of the younger players on the team, and while he’s tall at six foot four, he’s like a lean string bean.
He shoves Blake. “Whatever, grandpa. Do you think you’ll graduate before your grandchildren do?”
Blake’s the eldest on the team at twenty-five. He’s quiet, and we don’t know much about him, other than he’s a mature age student, and he’s studying paramedicine. I’ve heard rumours his choice of career has to do with something that happened to his mum or sister, but it’s none of my business, so I don’t pry. I’m just glad to have him out on the pitch.
My phone vibrates again, and I’m desperate to check it, so I swing my bag over my shoulder and push through my mates. “I’m out. Later.”
I wait until I’m in my car before I check the messages.
Noah: Sorry, maybe it’s a little early to be saying shit like that.
Noah: Christ, Kincaid. I’ve never wanted to delete a text more. Way to leave a guy hanging.
My lips curl into a grin as I imagine him pacing his room, overthinking why I haven’t responded to his texts.
I pull up his number and press the call button. It only rings once before he answers.
“What the fuck?” he whisper hisses. “You don’t ghost a guy when he says shit like that to you.”
“Relax,” I tell him with a chuckle. “What do you expectwhen you text me when I’m still in the change rooms? I almost got busted by Ritter.”
He lets out a whoosh of air. “I’ve been pacing my room wondering if I came on too strong.”
My grin widens. “You’re adorable when you’re all worked up.”
