Page 56 of Rival Summer

Boston's brow furrowed slightly, his concern giving way to curiosity. "What?"

"They're mine," I admitted shyly, heat rising to my cheeks under his intrigued stare.

"Okay, go on." His tone was gentle, inviting me to explain the madness of finding my lingerie in his uniform bag.

Sucking in a breath, I let out a little laugh to ease my nerves. "Well, I think... I was trying to surprise you with them, hoping you'd like them." The last part came out in a near whisper.

There was a pause—a heartbeat or two—before the atmosphere in the room shifted. Something in Boston's stance softened, and the echo of my confession hung in the air, charged with unspoken possibility.

Boston picked up the delicate fabric, his expression morphing from shock to something else. A roguish grin played across his lips as he held them up, a lightness in his eyes. "Fuck," he sighed. "These are sexy."

He tossed the underwear back into the bag. "I can work with this," he added, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. "I'm keeping them for good luck."

Before I could protest or even muster a coherent thought, Boston was standing before me, close enough for me to feel warmth radiating from his body. His hand reached up, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear with a tenderness that contrasted with the playful glint in his blue eyes.

He leaned in, and I could almost taste the proximity of what promised to be a kiss that would surely sweep me off my feet?—

A sharp knock at the door shattered the moment. My heart leapt into my throat, and Boston paused, his gaze snapping toward the source of the interruption.

"Coach wants us at practice in 10," came Parker's muffled voice from the other side. The urgency in his tone was unmistakable, a reminder of the reality waiting just beyond these four walls.

"Meet you in the lobby!" Boston called out, reluctantly. He turned back to me and in one swift, fluid movement, his lips brushed against mine—a fleeting but electrifying contact that promised more.

"I'll see you for dinner later," he whispered, before he grabbed his bags and left the room.

As the door clicked shut, I collapsed onto the bed, heart pounding against my ribcage. I let out a shaky breath, melting into the mattress as the remnants of his quick kiss tingled on my lips, the anticipation of dinner—and whatever else might unfold this weekend—setting my thoughts ablaze.

EIGHTEEN

boston

"Hey,let's take a quick look at the field before practice," Parker said. I nodded without hesitation.

"Sure thing, man," I replied, hastily shoving my equipment into my locker. I hung the uniform bag on the rack, then trailed after Parker. The field was as inviting as ever, the bleachers were updated—the dugouts were nice. We couldn’t complain. When we returned to the locker room, the atmosphere had shifted. The door swung open and panic coursed through my veins. Some of the staff were busy at work, pulling uniforms from their bags and hanging jerseys neatly in each player's locker. My teammates lounged around, the usual pre-practice locker-room talk filling the air, but all I could focus on was the potential disaster unfolding.

"Damn it," I whispered under my breath, scanning the room frantically. Had my bag been unpacked yet? And more importantly, where were Chandler's panties—the ones she’d trusted me with?

My heart raced. The idea of them being discovered here, in the sanctity of the guys' locker room, was enough to send me into full-blown crisis mode. It would be more than just embarrassing—it would be catastrophic.

"Everything cool?" Parker nudged me, his brow furrowed in concern.

"Uh, yeah," I lied, eyes darting around, wondering if they'd sorted out my jersey yet.

Parker clapped me on the shoulder, unaware of my internal mayhem.

When I reached my locker, I peered inside, trying to calm myself. The one item I was desperate to see was absent. Not in the bag, not draped over the jerseys, not on the floor. My stomach twisted with anxiety wondering where the fuck they were.

But then a hush fell over the room. I glanced up and saw Coach standing in the entryway, anger written all over his face. In his hand dangled Chandler's lacy underwear.

"Would anyone care to explain this to me?" His voice boomed, cutting through the stillness. "The locker room was spotless earlier. Now there's women's undergarments on the floor."

Light chatter passed through the team, faint snickers coming from the back rows. I sank onto the bench, my head falling into my hands.

"Doing this at our home facility is low, but here? While we’re away? It’s appalling," Coach continued, his gaze sweeping over us, searching for the person responsible. "You should all be ashamed."

He jabbed the air with the panties, Chandler's panties, and my face burned with mortification.

"Anyone want to step up? Who’s to blame for this?" His challenge seemed to echo endlessly off the walls.

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