Page 29 of Crossed Lines

We’ve done it.

The Harriers have won the CSSC semi-finals.

My teammates swarm me, hands clapping my back and ruffling my hair. I take the praise half-heartedly before I manage to slip out of their grip, racing towards the crumpled form of Luke on the astroturf.

All I want to know is if he’s okay. The win can wait.

11

Luke

Searing pain floods my leg like fire, the skin grazed and dotted with red. My ears are ringing and I’m panting from having the breath knocked out of me, but none of that matters. Not right now.

Someone’s hauling me by my shoulders, trying to get me to sit up. They’re wearing a bright paramedic vest and won’t answer when I ask about the match. Maybe they can’t hear over the crowd roaring.

Familiar hands cup my jaw, and my vision fills with Spencer’s face. He takes me in with wide eyes, thumbing over my cheek and down my neck.

“Are you okay?”

I wave the question away, hissing when the paramedic straightens out my leg. “Perfectly fine. Did we win?”

Explosive laughter fills my ears, slightly manic and full of relief. “Yeah, yeah we fucking won.” He wraps me in a hug and I cling onto him, burying my face into the space where his neck meets his shoulder.

That’s all I wanted. My heart swells, so full it could burst, and I can’t stop grinning. Collapsing against Spencer, I let theparamedics do their thing. I did it. All the stress and the tears and the late-night practices—all of it was worth it.

And I have Spencer to thank. I couldn’t have done any of it without him.

When I’m pulled to the edge of the pitch and seated at the back of the paramedic van, he never leaves my side. At some point, I must have slipped my hand inside his without noticing. He doesn’t seem to mind, too busy fluttering over me in concern.

The paramedics clean up my leg with ease because, thankfully, it’s nothing but a graze. Spencer stands on my right side, blocking most of the action from the curious eyes of the crowd.

Heat floods my cheeks every time I look down at our entwined fingers. His are calloused and longer than mine, comforting and warm. I swipe over his knuckles, white with the force of his grip, a little amused at the lack of rings. He’s always hated taking off his jewelry before we play.

“What are you smiling about?”

“You,” I say, looking up at him through my eyelashes. “You’re less reflective than usual.”

A fond smile lights up his face, and my stomach feels all tingly. “You miss my rings?”

“I miss a lot of things about you.”

Spencer’s expression shifts at the words, turning serious. I hate seeing it, so I grab his other hand and tug him closer until he’s practically towering over me.

“It’s after the match.” I take a deep breath, willing the words I’ve felt in my bones over the past few days to come out. “I’m sorry, Spence. I was dumb and scared, and instead of talking to you like an adult I pushed you away.”

His eyes dart to the fans, some of whom are leaning over the railing to get a good look at us. “Aren’t you worried people will see?”

“Doesn’t matter. I want them to know how much I care about you.”

His eyes flash. “Say it again.”

“I care about you, Spencer Hall,” I repeat obediently. I’d do anything he asked me to if it meant getting another chance. “So much it hurts sometimes.”

Careful of my shin, I let my legs fall open and tug him in between them. Goosebumps pebble my skin and the hairs on the back of my neck stand in rapt attention, focused entirely on him. The rest of the world fades away.

“All of this means nothing without you beside me, Spence,” I say, shaking his hands. “You were right; we should’ve done this kissing thing a long time ago.”

“Told you I’d change your life, didn’t I?”

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