The moment before everything explodes.
“Number two… your Carolina Rovers Hooker… NOAH WALKER!”
The noise hits me like a wall as I jog onto the pitch.
And then I hear it.
“SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL HOOKER!”
“Hit ‘em hard, Noah!”
“Hooker, hooker, hooker!”
I glance toward the stands.
Sure enough, fans are waving huge banners with my face printed on them alongside the slogan.
One of them even has a cartoon of me holding a rugby ball like it’s a weapon.
It’s loud.
A little crass.
But also very rugby.
I laugh and give them a quick salute before jogging into position.
Normally, this is the moment where everything in my head goes quiet.
Game mode.
Focus.
But right now?
My brain is a mess.
Because I can’t get her out of my head.
Chiara.
All bloody week she’s been avoiding me.
Ever since that little session in the physio room after Tank flattened me during practice.
Every time I walk into the facility she suddenly has somewhere else to be.
Another patient.
Another meeting.
Another reason not to look at me.
But I know what I saw that day.
The blush.
The way her eyes darkened.
