Page 30 of Crossed Lines

Hope swells in my chest. If he’s ragging on me, we’re moving in the right direction. “The first time I met you, I think I hated you so much because I knew you were dangerous—you are everything I never allowed myself to want, Spencer, and I wasn’t ready for you.”

He bites his chapped lower lip, gaze flicking over my face.

“How about now?”

“Now, I want every dangerous part of you.” I wrap a tentative arm around his neck. “I’ve been chasing perfection, but you’ve been right here the whole time.”

His answering groan is music to my ears. “I really fucking like you, Luke Howard.”

“I really like you, too. So much it scares me, but I’m tired of running away.”

Maybe it’s the way he curves over me, tall and imposing, or the soft look on his face, or the way his hand slips from mine to roam over my back, but I’m overcome by how much I care about him.

Without thinking, I pull back slightly, enough to cup his cheek and press our lips together. Right in front of a stadium fullof fans. A cheer erupts around us, filling the giant space, and Spencer smiles against my lips.

“You dramatic bastard,” he says.

“Shut up. You know you love it.”

He grips my waist, hands worming their way under my jersey and stroking the bare skin of my stomach.

“I do, sweetheart.”

The time after the match passes by in a haze. My leg is patched up by the paramedics and Spencer helps me to the locker room, where the team mobs us the second we enter.

I’m jostled between my teammates, all of them ruffling my hair or shaking my hand, and I can’t stop smiling. Coach Davis talks loudly about sponsorships and Spencer’s prospects as a pro, and my heart feels fit to burst at the proud look on his face. The best part is, through it all, Spencer’s hand never leaves mine.

My dad video calls a few minutes later. He looks a lot like me, except he’s a little taller with darker skin and a graying beard. When he smiles, the years melt off his face and it’s like he’s back in college playing soccer. He’s wearing one of those smiles now.

“You played like a fucking star. I’m so damn proud of you, Luke.” He lifts the phone, showing the sports bar he’s in. I recognize a few aunties and uncles from home, all glued to the large screen behind the counter. Watching me. “And that captain of yours is exceptional.”

Spencer shifts on the bench beside me. Even now, he’s bad at taking compliments. A light flush dusts his cheeks and the top of his ears. But he doesn’t protest being called my captain.

“Dad, you’re embarrassing him,” I say, smiling. “He’s amazing, isn’t he?”

Spencer groans. “Can we talk about how you risked life and limb for a pass?”

Before I can downplay the incident, my dad cuts me off.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he agrees. “I know winning is nice, but nothing comes before your health. Remember I love you in one piece, win or lose.”

Warmth settles over me like a blanket. Ignoring Spencer’s knowing look, I nod. “Yeah. Thanks, Dad.”

A cheer rises in the sports bar, and Dad disappears for a moment, the sounds of laughter curling up from the phone. When he returns, his grin is somehow even wider.

“You don’t want to talk to your old man anymore?” He looks pointedly at Spencer. “Never told me you got yourself a boyfriend.”

Oh my God.

“We’ve got to go, Dad. Lots of celebrating to do.”

“I’ll bet—”

“Okay, bye, love you!”

I cut the call before he can say anything else incriminating and toss my phone aside, burying my face into my hands. Spencer’s laugh rumbles through his body, pressed firmly against mine.

“Are you done laughing at my misery?”

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