21. Roman

21

ROMAN

" N ice save," I panted as I passed Tristan, running down the field. He shot me a grin from beneath his helmet, raising his hand in acknowledgement. Dodging around the guy marking me, I flung my body in the direction of the ball, which had landed two feet away from me, swiping it into my scoop and then wasting no time in flinging it towards a stone-faced Lincoln.

Lincoln . I still owed him an apology. I'd muted the elite group chat for the past week because there was no fucking way I was going to torture myself with whatever people were saying about the photo. As far as everyone knew, my best mate had spent the night with Quinn, and that thought was enough to make me want to rage.

But there was no time to get into that now, not when our defence was swamped, with the players from Stowe School throwing everything they had at us in an attempt to get possession of the ball. The score was tied, and we were almost at the end of the game. Both schools needed the points, and there was everything to play for.

Keeping my eyes peeled for any chance of getting the ball and sending it towards the Stowe goalie, I made sure to block the guy that was on my heels. He was determined that I wouldn't get the ball, but too bad for him, I was faster and better, my skills honed from the endless drills Saunders had made us practice over and over until we could do them without even thinking. It was muscle memory at this point.

I knew Quinn was there in the stands, watching me, ostensibly cheering the whole team on…but we both knew I was her full focus. That knowledge made me push my body harder, faster, sweat making my lacrosse jersey stick to my back as the sun beat down on us relentlessly. Despite the heat, adrenaline thrummed through my veins, and if it hadn't been for the guy on my heels all the fucking time, way too close for comfort, I'd have been on a high.

The ball shot past me, and the guy marking me dived for it at the same time I did. My height gave me an advantage as I swung my stick, the scoop catching the ball in midair and sending it soaring towards Tristan.

A second later, the Stowe player was crashing into my side, sending us both flying, falling onto the grass and rolling. The stick fell from my grip. "Fucking dickhead!" I shouted, punching him in the ribs with my gloved hand.

"Fuck you," he hissed, his fists flailing. In the back of my mind, I registered the blow of a whistle, and I shoved him away, climbing to my feet and bending over with my hands on my knees, breathing hard.

Knox was instantly there, his hand ghosting over my arm before he moved away. "Ro. Cool it. You're gonna get kicked out, and you know none of our subs are on your level."

"Yeah. I know. Okay. Fuck." Retrieving my stick from the grass, I turned to face the wrath of the ref. He awarded me a two-minute suspension and possession to Stowe. Pacing up and down, I concentrated on regulating my breathing while I counted down the seconds until I could get back on the field.

Two minutes left on the clock, and the score was still tied, 11–11. From my vantage point, I saw the moment it happened in slow motion. Link got possession of the ball within our box, right next to the crease and way too close to our goal for comfort. He ran, a blue streak down the field, dodging Stowe players left and right. When he had a clear shot, he flung the ball towards Knox, who caught it in his scoop effortlessly and, without missing a beat, darted around the player marking him, his stick outstretched. A powerful flick sent the ball arching towards the goal, skating over the tip of the goalie's stick and straight into the net.

"Yes!" I punched the air and then ran towards my teammates, the whistle sounding as the Hatherley Hall students went wild, all of us on the field and in the stands celebrating our win.

Pulling myself out of the huddle of cheering teammates, I glanced over to where Quinn was in the stands, her arm around Aria and a bright smile on her face. I shot her a grin that could've technically been directed at anyone, but she knew it was just for her. Her smile widened, and fucking hell, I was either getting butterflies or indigestion, and I hadn't eaten anything since this morning.

A large shadow blocked my view of Quinn, passing in front of me, unclasping his helmet as he strode across the field in the direction of the changing rooms. Lincoln . Quickly removing my own helmet, I jogged across the grass to catch up with him, stopping him in his tracks with a hand on his shoulder.

He gave me a wary look, and I winced internally at the faint yellow bruising that remained on his face. I cleared my throat. "Uh, good game today." Fucking hell, I hated doing this kind of shit. I didn't do this kind of shit. But then again, I'd never outright attacked one of my friends before. "Sorry for, uh, y'know. Punching you or whatever."

His lips thinned as he shook his head. "What the fuck is going on with you, bro? You come at me for being with Quinn, who, by the way, I didn't even fucking know you were into, and yet Tristan posts that picture of her and tells us all they spent the night together. I don't see any evidence of bruising on his skin like mine." He jabbed his finger towards his face. "So what the fuck is that all about? You share her with him or something?"

"Uh, yeah. Something like that," I muttered, shifting on my feet as I stared down at the ground. "I was out of line, and I don't want—" With a frustrated breath, I forced my head up to meet his gaze again. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? That's the last time I'm gonna say it. Accept it or don't; it's up to you."

I resumed walking, and after a second of hesitation, Lincoln fell into step next to me. "No hard feelings. I appreciate the apology."

"Good." We grinned at each other. Look at me, acting all responsible. This was weird. Maybe I'd turned over a new leaf and hadn't realised it.

"You throw one hell of a punch." He elbowed me in the side. "I don't want to get on your bad side again."

"Stay away from Qu— Oh, shit." So much for keeping my interest in her a secret. But he didn't know the extent of it, and hopefully, he wouldn't think anything of it.

A loud laugh fell from his throat. "I don't even wanna know what's going on there. You have my word I'll stay away from her, though. But if you're trying to be discreet, I suggest keeping the dirty looks and eye fucking to a minimum."

"I'll keep that in mind." We pushed inside the changing rooms and split off towards our lockers. All I wanted now was to get out of my sweaty uniform, shower, and then celebrate our win with my teammates and friends.

And if I was lucky, I'd be able to get Quinn alone for our own celebrations.