Page 16 of King of Violence

I shake my head, trying to focus. I can’t afford to lose myself in this. But Felix’s gaze is like a magnet, pulling me in. My thoughts keep drifting back to him.

The whistle blows, and we’re back on offense. The ball is snapped to me, and the weight of the moment presses down on me again. I can’t afford another mistake. I can’t let the team down. I glance over to Felix once more. His eyes meet mine, and for the briefest second, I see something there—maybe approval, maybe something else. But it’s enough.

That’s when something clicks.

I stop thinking.

I stop worrying.

I just play.

I move with a fluidity I haven’t felt for the entire game. The next pass is a perfect spiral, sharp and fast, threading through the defense like it was meant to be. My receiver catches it, and the crowd erupts.

The next play, I run the ball myself, dodging tacklers with ease, my legs moving faster than they have all night. Adrenaline surges through me, the world narrowing to just the field and the end zone.

The defense is on their heels now, unable to keep up with the speed of the game. It’s like a switch has flipped, and I’m back to being the quarterback I know I can be.

Another touchdown. We’re back in the game.

The clock ticks down, and I can see the finish line. We’re tied now, and the other team is scrambling to recover. But they’re too slow, too off-balance. I know we’ve got this. I call the final play, a long pass to the end zone, the one I’ve been practicing for weeks. I take the snap, my fingers gripping the ball tight. The defense crashes toward me, but I see the opening. I throw, the ball flying through the air like a missile. It arcs beautifully, and I watch as it lands perfectly in the hands of my receiver.

Touchdown. We win.

The crowd explodes into cheers and my team rushes the field, lifting me up and chanting my name. But even with all the noise and excitement, I can’t shake the feeling that I need to find one person.

I break free from the celebration, scanning the stands. My heart skips a beat when I finally spot him. He’s standing now, clapping, his eyes following me through the crowd. I feel a rush of pride, but it’s more than just the game. It’s the way he’s looking at me.

I head toward the sidelines, not wanting to waste another second. As I make my way off the field, I see Felix weaving through the crowd toward the exit.

“Felix!” I call out, my voice cutting through the noise.

He turns, his expression a mix of surprise and something else—maybe curiosity.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” I say as I step toward him.

He shrugs, but there’s something in his eyes that I can’t quite read. “I figured you’d want someone to watch you win.”

I smile, feeling my heart race. “So you’re a fan now?”

He looks away, almost shy, and for a moment, I wonder if he regrets coming. But then he meets my gaze again.

“You played well,” he says, his voice surprisingly soft. “Really well.”

Warmth spreads through me at the compliment, something I don’t let myself feel too often. “Thanks,” I say, a little too quickly.

Felix raises an eyebrow, his gaze shifting back to the field. “Everyone is looking at you.”

I look around, noticing the curious stares from my teammates and other patrons. But they’re not looking at me—they’re looking at Felix. A wave of protectiveness falls over me as I shift to block him from their view.

“Comes with the territory.” I laugh.

He nods, and I can’t tell if he’s impressed or just trying to be polite. But I don’t care. I’m here, and he’s here, and for once, I feel like maybe I’ve got a chance.

I shift my helmet under my arm as I try to find the right words. “Hey, uh, I’m having a party at my place tonight. Why don’t you stop by?”

Felix tilts his head like he’s trying to work out if this is a trap.

“You can bring a friend or a girlfriend or whatever. If you want,” I stutter out the sentence, blood rushing to my cheeks.

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