Page 22 of Crossed Lines

Spencer pastes on a confident grin and tries to explain where we were but Miller holds up a hand, cutting him off.

“Save it for after.” She gestures to him. “You go on out there before Coach Davis beats the substitute striker over the head.”

Blue eyes dart to me, full of an apology that he can’t say right now, but I understand. Too bad sorry doesn’t fix things.

When he finally leaves, Miller pulls me to the side.

“Look, normally I wouldn’t ask because it genuinely doesn’t matter what you lot get up to in your own lives, but this time it’s affecting the team, so I have to.”

“...Okay?”

She sighs. “Are you and Spencer a thing?”

My mouth runs dry, and for a moment I can’t breathe. It should be easy to answer no and step out of her hold, but something keeps me in place. Does what we’re doing—thekissing, the sex, the sweet words uttered over the sunset—count as a ‘thing?’

I guess we’re friends with benefits. But my stomach churns at the idea. Okay, that’s clearly something I have to work out on my own later on.

Instead of dumping all these revelations on Miller, I just shrug. “Kind of.”

“Like I said, it doesn’t matter. Honestly, it’s good for play.”

That throws me for a loop. “Really?”

“Are you kidding me? Davis is counting on the Dream Team making his entire college soccer coaching career.” She smiles, the stern lines on her face melting into something kinder. “You’ve never been late to training, especially not before such an important match. I just need you to lock it in for me, Luke.”

I agree easily, because she’s right. I’ve been letting Spencer take up most of my time, drawn like a moth to a flame. He’s the sun my world revolves around, but I forgot about the sun I’ve followed my entire life.

I’ve loved soccer much longer than I’ve known him.

We can’t ruin what we have, both on and off the pitch. Our friendship is what keeps me going, and if we lost it because of some bad decisions, I’d never forgive myself.

I change into my soccer gear in record time and step out onto the pitch, already rehearsing my apology to Coach Davis when a hand clamps around my wrist and tugs me back. I hit the outer wall of the facility with a groan. The familiar smell of cedarwood and orange envelops me.

“You could have just called my name like a normal person,” I say breathlessly.

Spencer noses under my jaw. “Would have taken too long. What did Miller want?”

Molten pleasure pools in my stomach as he mouths my neck, sucking and nibbling until my toes curl in my cleats. I have to fight to keep my thoughts straight.

“Just ragging on me for being late.” It’s not completely a lie, but it still doesn’t sit well in my stomach. “Please, Spence, what if someone sees?”

“Let them. I want them to see how good you look when you’re desperate for it.”

Oh, myGod.

He continues like he didn’t rock my world. “I told you there was nothing to worry about.”

Covering my body with his, Spencer kisses me properly. For a moment, I let my eyes fall shut, enjoying his chapped lips on mine. We slot together like puzzle pieces, like every inch of him was meant to fit under my hands, molded to my exact shape. When he presses our crotches together, a moan rips through me. We can’t do this. Not here, and definitely not now.

After a few false starts, I manage to pull away, shaking my head. “We’ve got practice.”

The look Spencer levels me with cuts through my soul, but I slip out from under him before I can fall back into his arms.

We have to focus on the semi-finals. Whatever that’s going on between us can wait.

8

Spencer

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