Page 102 of Against The Rules

I swallow hard, my mouth twitching at the corners from the strain of fake smiling for so long. God, they’re probably already posting that all over social media.

I do not want to be the star of a million mean TikToks. I do not want my life dissected online.

I do not need anyone looking into me and Ty.

What was he thinking?

My stomach roils, and still, I smile, my palms a sweaty mess on the poms.

When the pre-game wraps up and it’s time for us to go back to our first sideline position, the rose still sits at my feet. What do I do?

Do I grab it, and open myself up to criticism from Rebecca and more Hot Dam speculation?

Or do I leave it, and hurt Ty’s feelings, and risk the Hot Dams calling me a bitch in all their rabid social media posts?

Screwed if I do, screwed if I don’t.

I make a last-minute gut decision as Eva counts us off, bending to retrieve it.

The Hot Dam section erupts in cheers, and my face gets hot.

Maybe that was a bad idea.

CHAPTER 41

TYLER

She picked up the rose. I was already hyped as fuck for the game, but watching Savannah strut back to her spot on the sidelines with my rose in hand makes me feel like I could take on the entire defensive line by myself.

“Stay focused,” Daniel yells, trying to keep us all psyched. “One play at a time, gentlemen! This is what we do. This is what we do, and they’re in our house! Beavers on three. One, two—”

“BEAVERS,” we all say.

I pound my chest, ready to kill it. We’ve been looking good all week. This is what we fucking train for.

We’ve got this.

We do not got this.

Fuck.

I chew on my mouthguard, pacing on the sidelines, watching our defense fucking scramble to cover their tight end, who’s about to run it in for a TD again. Damn. God damn it.

I cover my eyes with one hand, but it doesn’t drown out the fact they’ve scored again.

It sucks. I want to take this team as far as we can go, but I am sick of losing. We’re outclassed in nearly every game. It’s a fucking travesty.

And now I have to get back on the field, and no matter how many points we score on this drive, it’s not looking good for us.

“Stay focused,” Daniel screams, a vein standing out on his neck. “We’re going to make this happen. One play at a time. One foot in front of the other. Forget what just happened. This is our house. OUR HOUSE. We will not give up. We will fight. We are warriors,” he’s roaring now, the sound deafening despite all the noise of the stadium around us.

I’m nodding, along with the rest of the offensive line.

“We’re running Zero Arctic Tiger Blue Stars,” he says, and I flip through my mental catalog of plays, a frisson of doubt going through me.

Fuck. This is a tricky play.

He nods at me, because this one depends on me running for my life and Daniel staying in the pocket longer than he likes to, mostly because no one wants to get sacked.

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