14. Chapter 14

T he first home game of the season always hits differently. As I stand in the tunnel waiting for our time to run onto the field, the crowd's roar vibrating with the energy radiating from my teammates seeps into my skin. It's a sea of red, white, and powder blue as I look out at the sold-out crowd.

Coach Campbell stands in front of us as he fires us up with one last pep talk. But I barely hear him. My mind is already on the field as I wait for the marching band to play our introduction song which we run out to each week. Tilting my helmet-covered head, I welcome the cracks in my neck as my gloved fingers itch at my sides. Adrenaline courses through my veins, and I can't wait to be on the turf.

Cannons sound as smoke fills the air in front of the tunnel. Harris, Grant, and JP lead us out of the opening. The roar of the crowd only grows as we jog out. Once we reach our sidelines, my eyes scan the fans, taking in the blur of faces. I fight the urge to look at the end zone where the student section is, knowing my eyes will latch on to familiar green eyes. As much as my mind drifts to Bret, now is not the time to think about my girlfriend.

Girlfriend .

It still feels weird to think she made things official with us two days ago. Keeping it a secret isn't something I wanted to do. I hate that I'm hiding her because a girl like Bret shouldn't be kept behind closed doors. She deserves to be seen. But I get her hesitancy. Not only is she my roommate, which could potentially cause issues between all the roommates, but there are also issues with the whole team.

Could I have picked a more complicated girl to fall for? Not only is she my teammate's sister, a teammate who has made it abundantly clear that she's off limits, but she's my coach's daughter.

If you look up complicated in the dictionary, you will find a picture of Bret and a picture of me.

Love this for us. But no matter what the risk is, she's worth it.

Hands slap my helmet as Harris screams in my face. "You ready, Riggs?"

"Hell yeah!" I shout back, pushing against his chest. Harris continues slapping the helmets of the starting offense as he gets everyone psyched for the game.

Within a few minutes, the captains are walking across the field as I stand on the sideline with my helmet in one hand and the other grips the neckline of my jersey. The announcer works the fans, and the crowded stands erupt in cheers.

I stand on the sideline with the team as the special teams take the field for kickoff. The White Stripes' "Seven Nation Army" blares from the speakers as the crowd jumps in their seats.

It's loud.

It's crazy.

It's game time.

"Goddamn, I'm going to miss this next year." Grant's voice is loud next to me as we wait for our turn on the field. We play offense together—me as a tight end and Grant as a wide receiver.

"You could just flunk out spring semester. Come back and play with us one last time. "

He laughs. "Yeah, Riggs, that'll be the day. I'm pretty sure if I fail out, my dad will kick me off the team."

"Yeah, you're probably right. It'd be nice to get to play with you guys again next year."

He shoves my shoulder as the crowd cheers at something our defense does. "Don't be getting all soft on me now."

"Nah, not me. We've got some ass to kick."

"Yeah, buddy!"

The defense comes running off the field and gives shoulder bumps as they jump in the air. They were able to hold the opposing offense to a quick three-and-out. Jogging onto the field, I find my position on the left side, lining up near the opposing team's bench, between the offensive tackles and Grant, our wide receiver. Harris takes his position under center as he calls out the play before waiting for the play clock to wind down.

The ball is snapped, and as Harris steps back into the pocket, I block the defender in front of me creating a gap for Xavier Boyd, Quinton's younger brother, to run through. It's a quick five-yard play. Jogging into position, I do the same thing as I did before. Football is a lot of repetition.

Lineup in position. Ball snaps to the quarterback. Block the defender in front of me. Repeat.

On third down, Harris calls out a new play with ten seconds left on the play clock. With my toes behind the line, my fingers twitch in anticipation. The ball is snapped as Harris drops back. I take off like a rocket, cutting through defenders as I find an opening.

With a slant movement, I turn to the sideline as the ball sails into my waiting arms. Spinning against the defender, I slip past the waiting defender. Tucking the football into my arms so that it's secure, I pump my legs as I rush toward the end zone. I'm five yards shy when I'm taken down.

Jumping to my feet, I'm greeted with congratulatory slaps against my helmet. The hollow knock and metallic clang echo inside the enclosed space. The jolting sound cuts through the background noise, a sudden reminder of the game's intensity.

Resuming my position on the outside, we repeat the motion. Only this time, Harris slides back and throws the ball into the end zone to a waiting Campbell.

"Drink up!"

The ping-pong ball splashes into the plastic cup of beer. Harris stands on the opposite side of the table from me with a shit-eating grin on his face. The fucker is kicking my ass at beer pong. He's dropping shot after shot, just like he threw for five touchdowns in our victory.

We've been at this party for three hours, and I don't think there's an end in sight. The Baseball House—where Cody Jacobs and three of his teammates live—is throwing the rager and bodies fill the space from room to room. A DJ has set up a table in the corner and has been keeping the party bumping with banger after banger.

Bret and Chloe dance on the makeshift dance floor in the living room where couches used to be. She hasn't been far from view, but when I texted her earlier, she insisted I celebrate the win with the team since she isn't drinking tonight.

I can safely say that I have. A happy buzz fills my system as the alcohol courses through my veins. Reaching for the red cup, I chug the piss-warm beer. In high school, we would play with water cups and chug our beer from a can, but here it's unsanitary beer in cups.

JP nudges my shoulder as a goofy, drunk grin spreads across his face. He's been hitting the hard liquor, and he's on his way to black out.

"You're carrying this team, bro." His words are slurred.

"No shit. Are you even conscious?"

His eyes flicker as he tries to focus on my face. "Barely."

Patting his shoulder, I turn my attention back to the game. JP and I have five cups to hit still while Harris and Cody have two. It's not even a competition anymore.

With a flick of my wrist, I let the white ball fly through the air. Golden liquid splashes in the air, and I smirk. "Drink up, bitch!"

Cody tsks and waves his finger. "Now, now, don't get so cocky, young pup."

"Oh god." I scrunch my nose. "Don't let that one stick."

The guys all laugh, and I groan. For the first two years of college, I was the "class clown" of the group, and I've had my fair share of embarrassing moments. The guys are never going to let me live down some of them.

JP holds the ball in the air, swaying on his feet, and launches the ball toward the cup. Or what must be a blurred version for him since he missed the white rim by a mile.

"Did I make it?"

Harris bends over, clutching his stomach, and howls out a laugh. "Yeah, man. You nailed it."

In two quick shots, the game is over, and I find myself chugging the two glasses they knock out. The warm, hoppy suds slide past my lips. With the back of my hand, I wipe the few droplets that slip free.

JP meanders off, and I hope it's to find someone to unlock the third-floor crash pad to pass out. The guys keep their finished attic locked for close friends to sleep over if needed. Harris and Jacobs scoot past the spectators as they make their way over to me. The three of us stare out at the dance floor where Bret and Chloe dance with a group of people. Guys try to slide their way behind the girls, but they don't let them. Instead, they twist until they dance against each other.

"How's it living with the coach's daughter?"

"It's not bad. Between everyone's schedules, it's like we hardly see each other." I slide my hands in my pockets as I resist the urge to run out on the dance floor and pull my girl into my arms. But we can't do that.

It feels like I've been tethered to Bret since last Christmas. I'm glad she's finally giving us a chance, even with all the complications.

Harris takes a pull on the bottle he's holding. "She's pretty fucking cool."

"That's what Wildflower was saying. Although, there's no way in hell I'd trade places with you guys. She's temptation, and that's a dangerous thing, boys."

"I'll be back." I give the guys a nod as I step out of the conversation. Sliding past sweaty bodies, I'm slapped on the shoulder and congratulated as I pass people. Bret's forest green eyes connect with mine as I flash her a wink before climbing the stairs. There's a bathroom on the main floor, but I'm sure it's lined up out the back.

Taking the steps two at a time, I'm relieved when the upstairs bathroom is vacant. A hand reaches out as a body slides between the wooden door as I go to shut it. "It's about time you snuck away."

"Rebel," I groan as I peruse the girl I've been watching from afar all night.

She's dressed in a unique oversized T-shirt that hangs long down her body. Light-washed shorts with frayed edges top her olive-toned, long athletic legs. Only the frayed edges of her distressed shorts can be seen beneath her shirt. In true, typical fashion, Bret has a pair of sneakers on her feet.

"Those are the same shoes you wore the day you moved in."

Her head tilts as she checks which shoes she's wearing. "You remember?"

"Of course, I remember. Rebel, I remember everything about you. Last winter when you came to the Christmas party, you were wearing a green sweater dress that matched your eyes. Military videos make you cry, especially when soldiers come home. You're not a pet person, but you love cat videos. Cinnamon is your favorite flavor, especially cinnamon rolls and Cinnamon Toast Crunch. You'd rather spend money on a new pair of sneakers than high-end makeup. You want to be an athletic director and fight to make sure girls are given the same opportunity as guys in sports programs. Oh, and you're kickass at video games."

"Okay, okay." A laugh bubbles out of her as she wraps her arms around my neck. "I guess you do remember things about me."

I nod, reaching my hands around her and propping her onto the counter. Our height difference isn't too far off and with her on the elevated surface, we are now sitting at eye level.

"Great game out there. I've been waiting all night to tell you in person."

"And I've been waiting all night to do this." Bending down, I capture her mouth with mine, which she graciously accepts. In a fluid of motion, our hands find each other. Her warm hands slip beneath my shirt as she slides them up before scrapping her short nails against my skin.

My hands move underneath the long tee shirt as I toy with the button on her shorts. Her head nods in silent permission as I flick the button through the loop. Tugging on the band, she slides her butt closer to the edge so that I can drag the material down her legs. She toes off her sneakers to free her legs entirely from the confines of her shorts as I drop to my knees.

"Now that's quite the view." Her fingers glide through my hair as I stare up.

"If you think that's a view, you should see it from my angle." I smirk as my lips find the soft spot of her knee as I kiss my way up her thigh. As much as I want to savor this moment, I know our time is limited. One of these nights I'm going to get to enjoy Bret Campbell in slow, languid movements without rushing and the fear of getting caught.

Hands leave my hair as she reaches for the hem of her shirt and tugs it over her head. She reaches behind her back and frees her breasts from her black bra. The straps slide down her arms before finding a spot on the floor beside her shirt. Within minutes, she's sitting on the edge of the counter wearing only a scrap of lace.

"You're so fucking beautiful." She blushes slightly before she spreads her legs wider, giving me the perfect view of her lace-covered pussy. My mouth waters at the anticipation of what's to come. Slipping my thumbs beneath the material, I work the lace down her legs before it finds the same destination as the rest of her clothes.

Sitting back on my legs, I take a moment to soak in Bret in all of her flawless, naked glory. This is the first time I'm getting a chance to look at her in the light. Black ink pops against her tan skin. The metal piercings contrast against her pink, erect nipples. Indents on her stomach showcase the abs she works hard to maintain. But next to her bare pussy is black ink that has me pausing.

With my finger, I graze the words that are tattooed below her panty line near her hip bone. "Lucky you."

A devilish smile paints her face. "You can thank Olivia for that. "

I quirk a brow waiting for more, but she shrugs one shoulder. That explanation is good enough for me. I'm not really in the mood to talk right now anyway, as my cock twitches in my pants, reminding me what I'm in the middle of.

Leaning forward, my lips kiss her soft skin. I lightly trace my tongue over the ink as I make my way down her body. Goose bumps are left on the trail that I make as I place open-mouth kisses across her thighs and right above her pussy. Her legs widen, and her head falls back as she lets out a moan. I pull her closer to the edge and drape her legs over my shoulders. Fingers weave their way into my hair, guiding me to her center.

"Take what you need from me," I mumble the words against her flesh.

Bret rides my face seeking friction against my stubble as I continue finger fucking her. With every pump and every flick, she's closer to falling over the edge. Watching Bret come apart might be the hottest thing I've ever experienced.

I want so desperately to be inside her. To feel her pussy grip my cock as she explodes around me. But now isn't the time.

My mouth finds her clit as she palms her breasts and pinches her nipples. I flick my tongue against her while I stroke my fingers deep inside her.

"Oh god, I'm going to come." The raspy words only spur me on.

Pumping harder, I twist my fingers while I bite down on her sensitive bud. "I'm coming, I'm coming. I'm—" Bret's voice trails off as she fights the scream as her orgasm rips through her. With my free hand, I cover her mouth to help muffle her screams. Her hips grind against my hand as she rides the euphoric wave.

When I'm certain she isn't going to give us away, I remove my hand from her mouth as I remove my fingers inside her wet heat. Her come drips down my hand, and my cock aches to be touched by her. But he'll have to wait.

Bret's naked chest heaves as pink blotches coat her flawless skin. With droopy eyes and a lopsided smile, Bret pulls me to her. "That mouth of yours."

Placing a kiss on her lips, she licks the seam of my mouth. The taste of her coating her tongue, and she hums in appreciation.

"Rebel, we've gotta get out of here. People are going to start to wonder where we disappeared to."

"It's a big party. We could easily find a bedroom and lock ourselves in it for the next hour, and no one would know we were missing."

Resting my forehead against hers, I leave a soft kiss on the tip of her nose. "As much as I love that idea, the only bedroom I'm locking you in is either yours or mine. Preferably mine so I can smell you every time I fall asleep."

"Then take me home, Crew Riggsby."