“He’s better today.” Felix nudges me with his elbow, keeping his voice low so as not to draw any attention. “You think his head’s in the game?”
I give a slight shake of my head. “No.” And that’s a problem. “You saw him last night. He spent all evening moping around after everyone left, constantly checking his phone like he couldn’t decide whether or not to message her.”
“He needs to get his head in the game,” Felix mutters.
Even now when we’re about to step out onto the field, Julio is discreetly glancing at his phone screen for what I know is at least the hundredth time today.
“Does he think she’s going to call him?” Felix asks.
“Hope he’s not holding his breath.”
Adriana is stubborn. Fiercely independent. And I can count on one hand the number of times that girl has ever tucked tail or apologized.
I’ve got Julio’s back. No matter what. He’s family. But shit between him and Adriana is complicated, and from where I’m standing, he’s the one who was being a dick all afternoon yesterday. The two of them need to just sit down and hash out their shit. Especially since Adriana and Cecilia are friends now. She’s going to be around more. There’s no avoiding that. And for all our sakes, they need to find a way to get along.
Julio doesn’t like that she’s got a new man in her life and I get it. If I were in his shoes, I probably wouldn’t be happy about their situation either. But if he doesn’t want Adriana seeing somebody else, then he needs to put his cards on the table and finally admit to how he feels about her.
Until he grows a pair and does that, she’s going to continue living her life.
You can’t blame her for it.
“—so get out there and show the Devils what PacNorth Wolves are made of!” Coach finishes his speech and everyone shouts out a variation of “Hell yeah,” and “we’ve got this,” slamming their fists against the doors of their lockers and rallying together as a team.
“Come on,” I tell Felix, falling into step beside Atticus and Deacon. “We’ve got a game to win.”
The whistle blows,and eleven of us take the field, our cleats pounding against the turf.
The crowd roars, cheering for us as we get into position. My heart races, adrenaline thrumming through my veins. This is what we’ve been training for. All those practices, the endless fucking drills, it’s all for this.
I’m locked in, every muscle coiled and ready. But when I glance over at Julio, I can already tell—he isn’t focused. He’s staring off toward the sideline, his shoulders tense, and I know exactly what’s caught his eye.
Adriana.
She’s sitting in the second row, my girl on her left and you know who on her right. Fuck. I don’t give a shit who she dates but we’re going to have to lay down some ground rules when it comes to our games. I can’t have my boy’s head messed up like this.
I clench my jaw, focusing back on the game. I need him switched on. To focus on what really matters right now. We all do. Julio’s our captain, our anchor. But right now? He’s fuckingdistracted, and it’s going to turn him into a liability during the game.
Deacon slides up next to me, bumping my shoulder with his. “You seeing this?”
“Yeah. I’m seeing it.”
Julio hasn’t barked orders at anyone. Hasn’t fired us up with his usual cocky-ass swagger. It’s like he’s somewhere else entirely. And on a day like today, with the league’s top team staring us down, that’s a problem we can’t afford.
“Think he’ll snap out of it?” Deacon asks, eyes locked on the ball as Atticus lobs it upfield.
I shake my head, tracking the play. “Doubt it. Not today.”
The ball moves fast, and I take off, sprinting past the defenders. For a second, everything else fades—the noise, the tension, my frustration with Julio—it’s just me and the pitch, my legs pumping, adrenaline surging.
I weave around a defender, spot the gap, and make the run. Deacon sends it to me with a quick pass, and I drive the ball up the field. I have two defenders on me so I kick it up to one of our forwards—Rion Pru. He swings his leg back and fires off the shot.
The ball sails just wide of the goal, missing the net by inches.
“Fuck!” I slam my hand against my thigh, frustrated with the miss, but not letting it slow us down.
“Shit. I’m—” Rion stammers.
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him. “We’ve got time. This is only the start of the game.”
