I’m just hopeful that one day I’ll be on the field playing and not just waiting on the sidelines. But this is my team, and I’m proud to be a part of it, even if it is just cheering from the sidelines.
Weston and Ben are a match made in heaven. They find a rhythm early on, with Ben making every catch and Weston throwing him perfect balls.
There’s a push and pull between them, a practiced ease. They work together like a well-oiled machine. And Ben… God, he’s perfection. Each muscle in his body flexes and bunches as he sprints down the field, and his strong hands catch the ball with unmatched accuracy.
It’s impossible to look away from him.
He commands attention. Everything from his broad shoulders to his trim waist to his strong, powerful thighs. He’s like a walking wet dream,and somehow I get to exist in his orbit. It’s not that he doesn’t have other friends. Of course he does. He’s like a light that people can’t help but be drawn to, but that he’s drawn tomeis somewhat unbelievable.
He could hang out with literally anyone, and yet, somehow, he keeps coming back. Keeps texting me. Keeps asking me to hang out.
Him and Parker both. The two of them couldn’t be more different, and the more I’m around them, the more Iwantto be around them.
Ben catches the ball, breaks a tackle, and dives into the end zone. The crowd goes wild, and so does the team, everyone jumping to their feet and cheering.
After Weston runs into the end zone and bumps his helmet off Ben’s, Ben looks up into the stands, then blows a dramatic kiss. I follow his gaze, surprised to find Parker sitting there. My throat gets a little dry and clicky as I stare up at them. They look… radiant today. That’s really the only word for it. Even from where I’m standing, I can make out the makeup they’re wearing, and the dress they have on today is the same one they had on when I spilled that coffee on them.
My stomach heats at the memory of it clinging to their skin, soaked through and showing off the delicate bra underneath. Are they wearing that again today?Fuck.
Like they can feel my eyes on them, they shift their attention to me. Heat floods my cheeks, and I look away. But like a moth to a flame, my eyes take on a mind of their own. When I look up at them again, they flash me a smile, then wave.
I wave back, then refocus on the game.
When the team runs off the field at halftime, we’re all pumped up. All of us except Marcus. I have no fucking idea what his problem is, but the second we step into the locker room, he starts rambling about gay people.
It’s not super loud or even obvious, but it still makes my blood run cold all the same.
“Hey, man. The fuck is your problem?” Ben asks, shooting him a sideways glance.
Marcus continues to grumble under his breath, ignoring Ben completely. I do my level best to ignore him, instead sidling up beside Ben. “Hey.”
He hits me with the full force of his smile. “Hi.”
“You’re playing really well.” My cheeks flush, and Ben’s eyes dart all around my face before he smiles.
“Thanks, cutie,” he whispers, leaning into my space.
I sputter a laugh, trying to ignore how it makes me feel inside. “Oh man, am I next on the list to get an unhinged nickname?”
Ben shakes his head. “Nah. Cutie’s not unhinged; it’s just… fitting. If you want an unhinged nickname, I’m sure I could come up with something, though.”
“Not necessary,” I say, my voice squeaking. “Not necessary,” I repeat, my voice back within normal range.
That gets me another smile. “If you change your mind, let me know.”
If I did change my mind, how would I even approach that?Hey, Ben, I’m feeling left out with the nickname thing and would like one of my own.No. Not happening.
Before Ben can respond, Coach comes barreling into the locker room, barking orders about adjustments that need to be made in the second half.
I keep a close eye on Marcus. He’s not paying any attention to what the coach is saying. Instead he’s watching Weston, who doesn’t even seem to notice, but I can tell by the tense set of Ben’s shoulders that he does.
Of course I know assholes like him exist. Ididgrow up in the church, and even though the hateful rhetoric was never spoken directly to me, it may as well have been.
I’m zoning out, too focused on Marcus and Weston to pay much attention to anything else, when everyone starts filing out of the locker room.
Ben bumps his shoulder against mine, then follows everyone out.
The energy is still electric when we all jog back onto the field. The crowd is going wild, and since we’re winning, it doesn’t seem like that’s gonna stop anytime soon.
