11

Luke

Searing pain floods my leg like fire, the skin grazed and dotted with red. My ears are ringing and I’m panting from having the breath knocked out of me, but none of that matters. Not right now.

Someone’s hauling me by my shoulders, trying to get me to sit up. They’re wearing a bright paramedic vest and won’t answer when I ask about the match. Maybe they can’t hear over the crowd roaring.

Familiar hands cup my jaw, and my vision fills with Spencer’s face. He takes me in with wide eyes, thumbing over my cheek and down my neck.

“Are you okay?”

I wave the question away, hissing when the paramedic straightens out my leg. “Perfectly fine. Did we win?”

Explosive laughter fills my ears, slightly manic and full of relief. “Yeah, yeah we fucking won.” He wraps me in a hug and I cling onto him, burying my face into the space where his neck meets his shoulder.

That’s all I wanted. My heart swells, so full it could burst, and I can’t stop grinning. Collapsing against Spencer, I let the paramedics do their thing. I did it. All the stress and the tears and the late-night practices—all of it was worth it.

And I have Spencer to thank. I couldn’t have done any of it without him.

When I’m pulled to the edge of the pitch and seated at the back of the paramedic van, he never leaves my side. At some point, I must have slipped my hand inside his without noticing. He doesn’t seem to mind, too busy fluttering over me in concern.

The paramedics clean up my leg with ease because, thankfully, it’s nothing but a graze. Spencer stands on my right side, blocking most of the action from the curious eyes of the crowd.

Heat floods my cheeks every time I look down at our entwined fingers. His are calloused and longer than mine, comforting and warm. I swipe over his knuckles, white with the force of his grip, a little amused at the lack of rings. He’s always hated taking off his jewelry before we play.

“What are you smiling about?”

“You,” I say, looking up at him through my eyelashes. “You’re less reflective than usual.”

A fond smile lights up his face, and my stomach feels all tingly. “You miss my rings?”

“I miss a lot of things about you.”

Spencer’s expression shifts at the words, turning serious. I hate seeing it, so I grab his other hand and tug him closer until he’s practically towering over me.

“It’s after the match.” I take a deep breath, willing the words I’ve felt in my bones over the past few days to come out. “I’m sorry, Spence. I was dumb and scared, and instead of talking to you like an adult I pushed you away.”

His eyes dart to the fans, some of whom are leaning over the railing to get a good look at us. “Aren’t you worried people will see?”

“Doesn’t matter. I want them to know how much I care about you.”

His eyes flash. “Say it again.”

“I care about you, Spencer Hall,” I repeat obediently. I’d do anything he asked me to if it meant getting another chance. “So much it hurts sometimes.”

Careful of my shin, I let my legs fall open and tug him in between them. Goosebumps pebble my skin and the hairs on the back of my neck stand in rapt attention, focused entirely on him. The rest of the world fades away.

“All of this means nothing without you beside me, Spence,” I say, shaking his hands. “You were right; we should’ve done this kissing thing a long time ago.”

“Told you I’d change your life, didn’t I?”

Hope swells in my chest. If he’s ragging on me, we’re moving in the right direction. “The first time I met you, I think I hated you so much because I knew you were dangerous—you are everything I never allowed myself to want, Spencer, and I wasn’t ready for you.”

He bites his chapped lower lip, gaze flicking over my face.

“How about now?”

“Now, I want every dangerous part of you.” I wrap a tentative arm around his neck. “I’ve been chasing perfection, but you’ve been right here the whole time.”

His answering groan is music to my ears. “I really fucking like you, Luke Howard.”

“I really like you, too. So much it scares me, but I’m tired of running away.”

Maybe it’s the way he curves over me, tall and imposing, or the soft look on his face, or the way his hand slips from mine to roam over my back, but I’m overcome by how much I care about him.

Without thinking, I pull back slightly, enough to cup his cheek and press our lips together. Right in front of a stadium full of fans. A cheer erupts around us, filling the giant space, and Spencer smiles against my lips.

“You dramatic bastard,” he says.

“Shut up. You know you love it.”

He grips my waist, hands worming their way under my jersey and stroking the bare skin of my stomach.

“I do, sweetheart.”

The time after the match passes by in a haze. My leg is patched up by the paramedics and Spencer helps me to the locker room, where the team mobs us the second we enter.

I’m jostled between my teammates, all of them ruffling my hair or shaking my hand, and I can’t stop smiling. Coach Davis talks loudly about sponsorships and Spencer’s prospects as a pro, and my heart feels fit to burst at the proud look on his face. The best part is, through it all, Spencer’s hand never leaves mine.

My dad video calls a few minutes later. He looks a lot like me, except he’s a little taller with darker skin and a graying beard. When he smiles, the years melt off his face and it’s like he’s back in college playing soccer. He’s wearing one of those smiles now.

“You played like a fucking star. I’m so damn proud of you, Luke.” He lifts the phone, showing the sports bar he’s in. I recognize a few aunties and uncles from home, all glued to the large screen behind the counter. Watching me. “And that captain of yours is exceptional.”

Spencer shifts on the bench beside me. Even now, he’s bad at taking compliments. A light flush dusts his cheeks and the top of his ears. But he doesn’t protest being called my captain.

“Dad, you’re embarrassing him,” I say, smiling. “He’s amazing, isn’t he?”

Spencer groans. “Can we talk about how you risked life and limb for a pass?”

Before I can downplay the incident, my dad cuts me off.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he agrees. “I know winning is nice, but nothing comes before your health. Remember I love you in one piece, win or lose.”

Warmth settles over me like a blanket. Ignoring Spencer’s knowing look, I nod. “Yeah. Thanks, Dad.”

A cheer rises in the sports bar, and Dad disappears for a moment, the sounds of laughter curling up from the phone. When he returns, his grin is somehow even wider.

“You don’t want to talk to your old man anymore?” He looks pointedly at Spencer. “Never told me you got yourself a boyfriend.”

Oh my God.

“We’ve got to go, Dad. Lots of celebrating to do.”

“I’ll bet—”

“Okay, bye, love you!”

I cut the call before he can say anything else incriminating and toss my phone aside, burying my face into my hands. Spencer’s laugh rumbles through his body, pressed firmly against mine.

“Are you done laughing at my misery?”

“Told you he loves you.”

Despite my embarrassment, my heart squeezes. This is everything I’ve ever wanted. I never thought it could happen, but here I am. Sitting with the man who's more than just my best friend, chuckling at my dad’s annoying but sweet acceptance, and riding the irresistible high of winning.

Life’s finally good.

It’s a few hours later when we get back to our apartment. Today’s our last day here before we return to Harper College, and I plan on taking advantage of these beds.

Before I can take a step inside, Spencer grabs my waist and shoves me against the entrance wall. This kiss is nothing like the one on the pitch. He licks me open, hungry and slick with spit, our teeth clacking together.

Waiting to get here has been hell. While I love the team like my second family, all I wanted to do during the post-match celebration was crawl up Spencer’s tall frame and devour him.

He fed Coach some excuse about being tired and we managed to sneak away. The drive home was torture. I’ve spent days aching with need for Spencer, too pent-up to bring myself off.

Now that we’re here I’m gonna savor every second of it.