Something warm settles in my chest at her words, at the unwavering confidence in her voice."Thanks, babe."
She smiles that soft, genuine smile reserved just for me. "Are you watching film today?"
I nod, running a hand through my hair. "Yeah. Coach wants us to go over the defensive schemes again. These guys like to shift right before the snap, so we need to be ready to adjust."
"And you'll be able to spot it?" she asks, genuinely curious.
"That's the plan. Their safety has a tell—he shifts his weight to his back foot right before they drop into zone. If I can spot it quick enough, I can adjust my route to find the soft spot in their coverage."
Madison shakes her head, clearly impressed. "It's kind of insane how much you have to process in, like, what? Two seconds?"
I shrug. "You get used to it. It's all about preparation. If I do my homework now, it becomes instinct on the field."
"Hmm," she hums thoughtfully. "Maybe I should apply that philosophy to algebra."
I laugh. "Maybe you should."
"Alright, Mads," I sigh, rubbing a hand over my jaw. "I gotta get changed soon.”
She groans dramatically. "Ugh, must be nice to have an excuse to stop studying."
I smirk. "It has its perks."
She huffs, pushing her textbook aside, then reaches for the hem of her sweatshirt. "Ugh, it's so hot in here."
She pulls it off over her head, and the second she does, I swear, my brain short-circuits.
Because underneath?
Just a thin, cropped tank top.
White. Tight. See through.
Her bare shoulders are on full display, her skin glowing from the soft string lights in her room, her collarbone practically begging to be kissed. The delicate straps slide slightly as she moves, revealing the gentle slope where her neck meets her shoulder.
I swallow hard, shifting slightly, adjusting the waistband of my sweats in a way I can only hope looks casual.
Madison doesn't notice at first. She's still stretching her arms above her head, her tank riding just slightly higher, exposing more of her soft skin that I should not be staring at right now. A sliver of her stomach shows, and my mouth goes dry at the sight.
I clear my throat, dragging a hand over my face before muttering, "Mads."
She glances at me, completely oblivious to the absolute war she's just started in my brain. "Yeah?"
I exhale sharply, shifting again. "I have to change into practice gear in approximately thirty seconds…in a locker room full of men."
She blinks. "And?"
I lift a brow, giving her a look.
Then, realization hits.
Her lips part slightly, her cheeks turning just the faintest shade of pink, and finally, she smirks. "Ohhh."
I shake my head, biting back a groan. "Yeah. Oh."
She grins, shifting on her bed, clearly enjoying my suffering. "Well, Jaxon, that sounds like ayouproblem."
I groan this time, letting my head fall back against my locker. "You are the worst."
