Noah
Okay, so maybe my little stunt at lunch hadn’t gone quite the way I
planned. I walked in thinking I’d get my “dose of luck,” and what did I
get instead? Kicked out of his office with six points o. punishment on
my ass. Six. Not even fair. And sure, it was gonna hurt like hell when
he collected–but oh man, the aftercare? The way he’d touch me, hold
me, whisper shit after? That was the part that made it all worth it.
“Oh my God, I’m sick,” I muttered to myself, grinning like an idiot.
Because cold shoulder or not, punishment or not, I got my payoff
anyway. Aiden had kissed me before the game. Slammed me into the wall and kissed me like he didn’t care who might’ve walked by. Holy
shit. What was he even on? Whatever it was, I wanted more.
By the time I hit the field, my veins were pure rocket fuel. The lights
burned down on us, the stadium was packed, and for once, all I could
think was: this is mine to take.
And damn, did I take it.
First quarter, I threaded a pass through two defenders so clean even
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Daniels‘ jaw dropped. The crowd roared, a wall of sound hitting me
square in the chest. By halftime, I was running plays like I’d written
the damn playbook myself–fake left, cut right, launch it downfield,
touchdown. The student section went nuts. People were shouting my
name, screaming my number. Hell, I swear I saw a couple signs with
Blake #12 scrawled across them. My ego inflated so fast I thought I
might float right off the turf.
Every snap, every throw, every call–it all just clicked. Like the ball
was an extension of me. My teammates started slapping my helmet,
hollering, “Let’s go, Blake!” and “That’s our QB!” They fed off me, and
I fed off them, until Central State didn’t know what the fuck hit them.
We destroyed them. Total massacre. By the last quarter, they weren’t
even fighting back–they were surviving. And when I ran it in myself
for the final touchdown, the whole place went insane. The stands
shook. My blood buzzed so hard I couldn’t feel my legs, just the high
of it all.
Next thing I knew, the guys had me up on their shoulders, carrying
me across the field while the crowd chanted. Me. Up there. Center of
it all. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.
Aiden stood at the sideline, arms crossed, trying to look like a professional coach. But I knew him too well. His eyes gave him away. They were shining, fierce, like he could’ve cried from the pride alone.
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That look hit me harder than any tackle. Forget the crowd, forget the
lights, forget the signs with my name. That was the moment. That
look was the win.
In that stupid little moment, after nothing more than a college game,
I got the slightest taste of how things could really be.
¿, smacking
Back in the locker room, the guys were wild–sho helmets, spraying water bottles around like we’d just won the damn
championship. And for the first time, when they congratulated me, it
wasn’t just noise. It was respect. They looked at me differently, like I
was someone they could actually follow. I felt pride, acceptance. The
kind I’d never felt before.
But stepping out of the locker room was a whole different story. The
crowd was still buzzing, students and cheerleaders pressing close,
Lexie and her girls coming at me like I’d just walked off a movie set.
Hands grabbing, cameras flashing. Lexie smiled big, already saying
her dad wanted to congratulate me, “just five minutes.”
Through the chaos, before I could even breathe, I caught sight of
Aiden. Surrounded by commentators, board members, and faculty, all
talking at him, wanting a piece of his time. And beyond that, I saw the
direction he was pushing–toward the scouts he’d told me about. The
ones he’d set up to be here tonight.
I wasn’t even clear of the crowd when it collided–Lexie waiting to
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drag me to her dad and his “exclusive guests,” and Aiden walking
straight toward me with that look that said, “Move, Blake, now.” Two
sides, two doors, both promising something I couldn’t afford to
ignore.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
