In spectacular fashion, if I do say so myself.
We lost two players to graduation last year—Kincaid and Ritter—my two closest mates besides Everett. But Macquarie lost seven, and it shows. Their team is green.
I score a hat trick in the first half, with Jasper and Everett also slotting one apiece. Going into the second half with a five-nil lead is something most of us haven’t experienced since juniors. I actually feel bad for their goalkeeper. In saying that, there’s no defensive pressure, and his back line is like running around fucking cones in a training drill.
Being on home turf makes this even more fun, with our crowd going nuts. After scoring another goal in the sixty-seventh minute, Coach Johnson subs me out of the game to give our back-up striker, Ryan Ashcroft, a run.
Sitting my arse on the bench, I guzzle some water before squirting it over my hair and then shaking it off like a dog.
“Great game out there tonight, Logan,” Coach Raynor says, slapping my shoulder.
“Thanks, Coach,” I rasp out, still trying to catch my breath.
For sixty-seven minutes, I shut out everything except the game. Not gonna lie, even though Macquarie isn’t putting up much of a fight, I feltgood out there running around with my teammates. I missed the adrenaline high. It’s better than sex.
I snort at the thought. Clearly, it’s been way too long since I got laid. Maybe itistime to rectify that.
“What’s so funny?” Tallon Doyle, our centre-mid, asks as he drops onto the bench next to me.
Coach is obviously planning on giving some of his star players a rest, so we don’t demoralise the opposition too badly.
In saying that, Ashcroft scores an absolute banger from outside the sixteen-yard box, and the maroon and silver fans go wild.
“Just thinking I can’t wait to get laid tonight,” I say with a smirk. “The Banshees are going to be out in full force.”
The Beckford U jersey chasers will be hanging around the players at Carter’s tonight, desperate to get lucky with one of us. But even as I say it, my stomach churns.
Doyle grimaces. “Jess is going to love that.”
He and Jess have been dating for two and a half years now, so you’d think she would trust her man implicitly, but I guess not.
“What’s her deal?” I ask, my eyes tracking the ball as Macquarie’s new striker makes a run, but Noah intercepts it and sends the ball back into our offensive end.
He sighs. “I don’t know, man. It’s getting intense. I love her, but sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe around her.”
Doyle and I get along all right, and we’re both studying paramedicine, but we’re not close. I wasn’t expecting him to go deep.
“That sucks,” I say, for lack of a better response.
“I mean, all I want to do tonight is hang out with you guys and celebrate. But guaranteed as soon as she sees all the chicks hanging around the team, she’ll drag my arse out of there.”
I frown. “That doesn’t sound healthy, man. Have you talked to her about it?”
He shoots me a wry smile. “I like my balls firmly attached to my body, and the sex is incredible. There’s no chance I’m questioning her.”
This is another reason I’m not interested in a relationship. Having to worry about someone else’s emotions and feelings when most days I can’t even deal with my own. Nope, I’ll stick with meaningless hook-ups over getting entangled in someone else’s drama. Which is why I need to forget about the masked pixie.
If only it were that easy.
The guys are all on a high when we shut down Macquarie seven-one, although our goalkeeper, Dane Galdeen, is cursing at the stupid penalty our new left-back, Scott Kristof, gave away in the dying minutes of the game. He’d been hoping for a clean sheet.
I celebrate with my teammates, laughing and joking as we shower and get changed. The mood is euphoric, but I’m just playing my part. There’s a fucking lead balloon in the pit of my stomach, expanding as we leave the change rooms and drop our bags in our cars before crossing the quad to Carter’s.
The feeling gets worse as we enter the campus bar. It’s packed with people decked out in maroon and silver, and the cheer that erupts as we stride in together is deafening. Iswallow my discomfort and paste on a cocky grin as I let Everett drag me to the bar.
He orders a round of shots, and we knock them back. Still feeling uneasy, I order another round, wincing as the liquor burns its way down my throat.
After Noah throws his arms around our shoulders and orders more drinks for the team, we finally push our way through the crowd to the usual tables reserved for us. Most of our teammates are already there, and I offer Jess a smile when I take the stool beside Doyle, eyes darting to the way she’s possessively gripping her boyfriend’s arm.
