My heart accelerates, but I don’t show it as I stare at my old friend. He backs off, lifting his hands, then swings his arm over Allie’s shoulder. “You don’t mind if I take a shot of your girl now, do you?”
“Not my girl,” I retort, grabbing Blaise by the shoulder and turning him toward the field.
“We have forty minutes left of practice,” I say without looking at him. “Then you can go to the party all you want.”
Blaise shrugs me off, grabbing his helmet from the side of the tracks just as I take mine and pull it over my head. Keith whistles to hurry us up, and Blaise stops beside me. “If you’re jealous, you know what you need to do,” he whispers. “If you don’t want me to go to the party, all you need to do is say that.”
Coach signals for us to get into position. Blaise jogs to his side, since we’re on opposite teams for practice, getting into a squat position, ready to catch the ball.
Half an hour into the match, I think I’ve tackled every single player, imagining they’re Jackson. I nearly punched Keith in the gut when he told me to calm down.
The last pass, and I aim for Blaise as soon as he catches the ball and runs up the side of the field. My feet pound the wet ground as I gain on him, throwing my body into his side before he can touchdown.
I hear the air rush from his lungs on impact, slamming him into the ground and pinning him down.
“Shit, Cole,” he groans beneath me. “That was fucking personal.”
I grab the cage of his helmet and yank him up to me, so our helmets clash. “Stay the fuck away from Jackson,” I snap. “If Isee you even talking to him, I’ll beat your ass and snap your legs and watch him get his spot back on the team. If you want to take that as a threat, good, because it is. Stay. Away. From. Him.”
When I let go of him, he headbutts me, cracking our helmets together and shoving me off so I fall onto my back in the mud. He jumps to his feet, panting. “Don’t threaten me again.” Then he laughs. “Knew you were jealous.”
“Rowle,” Coach yells. “Carter. Get over here.”
Rolling my eyes, I slap Blaise’s hand away when he tries to help me to my feet. Coach shakes his head at us both as we approach.
“Your father said you’d both fight during a match, so this is your only warning. Another brawl between you both and I’m benching the pair of you for three games.”
He thinksthatwas us fighting? Fuck, he should see what it’s like when I’m masked and Blaise is sucking my cock. Or not – I don’t want anyone seeing that side of us.
I sigh. “Then you’d lose the games. We’re your best players.”
“Get out of my sight.”
I laugh as I walk by him. Everyone’s already inside getting showered and dressed. Blaise follows, muttering something under his breath about being an asshole.
Must be talking about himself.
The stalls in the shower room are empty when we get in, the guys pulling on their clean clothes, some cocks out. I glance at Blaise to see if he’s giving them any attention, but he’s too busy trying to unfasten the clip on his helmet. Tossing mine down, I yank off my shirt, then my guards, and hike my foot onto a bench to undo my laces.
“I’m not helping you,” I say to him when he huffs. “Learn to do it yourself.”
“I know how to fucking take off my helmet. I played in high school.”
Keith comes over, squirting water into his mouth from his sports bottle. “J will pick us up around seven,” he tells Blaise. “Be ready.”
He nods, and I feel every fucking nerve snapping as I switch shoes to undo the other lace.
“You sure you’re not coming?” he asks me, and I shake my head. “Well, suit yourself. We’re gonna play another chase.”
Great.
Fucking perfect.
Blaise isn’t going.
Keith leaves the locker room, and after a few minutes, everyone else leaves. Blaise finally gets his helmet off and drops it onto a bench. I catch him looking at me while I undress down to my boxer shorts, but he isn’t doing the same.
I’m annoyed with him. I’m always annoyed with him, but something inside me likes that it’s just the two of us in here. And I want him to fucking take off his clothes so I can at least look at him the way he keeps looking at me.
