Page 72 of The Wrong Quarterback

I gaped at him. “Why do you thinkthat’sgoing to help with my focus?”

“Because you’ll be at least thinking how clever and witty I am rather than how you want your dick massaged,” Jace snapped, sounding very confident in his idea.

“Can we stop talking about Parker’s dick?” Matty complained, rolling his head back as he stretched his arms.

“Almost sounds like you’re jealous, Matty,” I told him.

“That inch really stays with you, doesn’t it?” Chappie called out from across the room.

“Parker’s dick wasn’t even there that day! It could be smaller for all I know!” Matty said indignantly.

“Really, Matthew. Are you pretending you haven’t seen Parker’s dick?” drawled Jace. “It’s like a monster had a baby with a blue whale and settled between his legs for a party.”

“That was…oddly specific,” I frowned. Although he wasn’t wrong…

“CAN WE STOP TALKING ABOUT PARKER’S DICK!” Matty roared.

The whole locker room burst into laughter, and Matty flipped us all off. “I hate you all,” he hissed.

Well, at least I was distracted now.

“Oh, what’s the answer, Thatcher?” Collins, our kicker, called out.

“Well, since you asked so nicely…to remind you—since y’all motherfuckers interrupt me every single time—the joke was, ‘which animal has the largest chest,’” Jace began.

I resisted the urge to interrupt him.

“A Z-bra,” Jace finished…right as Coach Everett came into the locker room.

That didn’t stop us from groaning and throwing things at Jace—because we were professionals like that.

“Fucking hell. Get your heads on straight,” Coach barked, along with some other choice words, as we got ready to run down the tunnel.

“You feeling good, QB?” Jace shouted, jumping up and down.

I grinned, rolling back my shoulders. “I’m always good, Thatcher.”

He snorted and shook his head.

We ran down the tunnel, and the noise of the crowd rolled over us, the stadium roaring with excitement. The bright stadium lights made everything come alive, the air charged with the energy of thousands of people. My heart pounded in my chest, but not just from the anticipation of the game. I scanned the stands, searching forher.

And there she was.

Sitting in the front row, right where I wanted her.

And fuck…I was getting hard again. She was wearing the jersey I’d had delivered to her room—the one with my name on the back—looking a little nervous as she stared around, like she wasn’t sure how she’d ended up there.

Her roommate was beside her, talking a mile a minute judging by how many times she was opening her mouth, but Casey’s eyes…they were on me. I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face.

Perfect.

I locked eyes with her for just a second before I tugged my helmet on, and I turned back to the field. That was all I needed. She was here. She was watching. Now it was time to give her a show.

The game started fast, Vanderbilt coming at us hard like they always did, but I didn’t let it faze me.

I lived for games like this.

Jace’s worries about where my head was were in vain. There was no way I wasn’t playing like I was fucking Superman with Casey watching. Thinking of her sitting just yards away, taking in my every move, every pass, every play…it pushed me, made me sharper, faster. I wanted her to see me at my best.

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