I rarely consider who’s in the audience watching our games, but as we take the field, my gaze strays to the stands and I can’t help but question if Hadley’s here. If she’s looking forward to our arrangement as much as I am since it’s Saturday night.
Peters calls us to huddle. The man is stubborn as fuck—it might be his only redeeming attribute—however, it’s become our demise. He refused surgery and insisted on being here, coaching.
We’re playing against Syracuse tonight, and they won’t be going home without one hell of a fight. It’s had us pulling extra practices and hours studying their game, and learning their defense. Krueger had suggested a new play that would give us an advantage, unknown to their defense and optimizing our greatest strengths, but Peters shot that down without a second of consideration.
I stare blankly as Peters shouts demands and threats, I memorized two years ago.
When we break, I eye the stands again, catching a sign with my name held by two girls who scream like they know I see them.
Lenny joins me, yelling at the crowd, hyping them up. The energy is like a drug, the cheers and band so loud it’s hard to hear Lenny as he grabs my face mask, yelling words of victory that are intended as much for the crowd as they are for me.
We follow the rest of the team to the middle of the field. Hudson calls the play Peters commanded. “Remember, if they collapse the pocket and we scramble, go left,” he says, peering at Grey, Corey, and me. “Their safety favors the right.” It’s a rougher version of Krueger’s plan that would’ve allowed us more time to set up versus react because Hudson’s about to be sacked.
“We’ll be there,” I assure him.
Grey nods, patting Hudson on the shoulder. “Just stay on your feet. Evelyn will cut down our linemen if you get taken out again.”
Hudson grins. “Let’s do this.”
Luck is on our side—or maybe it’s on my side—because not only are two of Syracuse’s top defenders out with food poisoning, it starts raining in the first half, soaking the field and the fans. Playing in the rain gives Holbrook ulcers, but it feels like a dream for me, in part because defenders are often distracted and sliding, concerned about injuries but is often where our team is most comfortable. Much of our summer conditioning consisted of dual practices in the heat, humidity, and rain. Our team’s at home in the conditions.
Syracuse loses in what will likely be their greatest loss of the season, considering we were preparing for overtime, and already discussing contingencies in case we lost. Instead, we didn’t have to run any of the plays that would have Peters barking at us, and are walking away with a win.
My smile can’t be dimmed as I walk off the field.
“Party at your place?” Lenny asks.
Corey snickers.
I flip him off. “Drink a beer for me.”
I expect him to give me a hard time, but he accepts my easy excuse.
When I pull up to the house, a couple of hours later, I’m still feeling energized from our win, as though the crowd has followed me home, their cheers still audible as I lock my truck and head inside.
Hadley’s in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water.
“Are the others here?” I ask.
She shakes her head as she finishes the water. “They changed after the game and Katie went to Carsen’s and Hannah is out with Ethan.”
“Good.” I stride toward her.
Hadley’s eyes widen as she tilts her head, trying to anticipate my next move. I drop my shoulder into her stomach and lift her off the ground. She squeals. I smack her pajama-covered ass and grab the basement door.
“This is a terrible idea,” Hadley says. “If you fall down the stairs, we’re both going to break our legs.”
“Pretend you’re parasailing.” I close the basement door, lock it, and descend the stairs. I don’t put her down until reaching my bed. The moment she’s steady on her feet, I grab the hem of her sweatshirt, pulling it up and over her head in one fluid motion, revealing a black lacy undergarment that isn’t a bra or shirt.
Hadley’s blue eyes flash with humor and lust, a tantalizing combination. “And here I thought you might go out tonight to celebrate your win and take a rain check on tonight.”
I run my fingers over her exposed neck and then reroute my path when hitting the strap of the lacy garment. “Is that what you were hoping for?” I watch the swell of her chest as I draw my fingers lower to her nipple, gently pinching the point between my thumb and forefinger.
Hadley shakes her head. “No, but I’d understand if you had.”
“This is how I want to celebrate.” I lower my face to her chest and put my mouth over the lace and her nipple, grazing the fabric with my teeth.
Hadley’s hands are in my hair as her breath falls out with a heavy sigh of pleasure—an addictive sound that I choose to make my goal for the night. I want to draw that sound from her at least four times.