Then I’ll sit you wherever you’re comfortable. Kill and Hop will be there too. I just want to know you’re there.
Sutton
Why?
Me
Because I’ll play better.
Sutton
That’s manipulative.
Me
Nah. Just honest.
Sutton
You’re annoying.
Me
You’re coming.
Sutton
What time?
Yes!
Got her with my charm!
Game days are predictable. That’s the whole point, I know. It’s routine. It’s structure. It’s control. The team responds best when we’re all under control. I wake up at the same time every morning, eat the same breakfast, listen to the same playlist on the drive in, tape my wrists and lace my cleats the same way every time. The mundane habits keep everything steady and quiet and it keeps me focused.
By the time I step onto the field for warmups, the stadium is already filling in. A low hum of noise builds in the stands, rising and falling like a wave that hasn’t quite decided how big it wants to be yet.
This part? This is easy for me. This is where I live. My helmet in hand, I jog onto the turf, scanning automatically. I note the sidelines, coaches, defensive setups from the visiting team warming up across the field and then I search the stands. Not intentionally, at least not at first. It’s just a habit. Sometimes I’ll look for my parents when they’re in town for a game. Sometimes I check for my brothers, but they’re almost always in a suite so as not to cause unnecessary chaos with their celebrity status.
Today, though, they agreed to sit in the stands with Sutton so she would have someone familiar next to her. The last thing I would ever want to do is make her uncomfortable. I’m giddy as fuck that she even agreed to come and the second I spot her in the stands, everything shifts. Right there, in Section 112, about halfway up, she’s standing with my brothers. I cock my head as I study her. On the outside I smile shyly but on the inside my chest is fluttering like a thousand butterflies are about to burst from my stomach.
She’s wearing a pair of black jeans, ripped at the knees and a Portland Rush hoodie.Myhoodie.
Of course she’s wearing my hoodie. It swallows her, sleeves too long, hem hitting mid-thigh over her jeans,but she looks fucking sexy as hell in it. I know damn well if I were up there with her right now, I’d be sliding my hands underneath the soft fabric and reveling in the feel of her soft, warm skin. Her hair is pulled up in a messy knot that’s already half falling out…just the way I like it. It’s the look that says “I don’t give a shit” when I know she absolutely does.
She stares down at the field and I can feel her searching. She’s searching for me and that makes me feel…different than I ever have before.
“Yo,” Jake says, bumping his shoulder into mine. “You good?”
“Yeah.” But my eyes don’t move because she finds me, and the second she does her whole face changes. The way she lights up. It’s not polite and it’s not small and it’s not guarded. It’s just…real. And fuck me, that hits harder than anything I’ll feel all night.
Jake follows my line of sight. “Ohhh,” he drags out under his breath. “She came, huh?”
“Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting. I’m observing.”
“Stop observing.”
