Page 98 of Blitz'd

“Fuck.” I grumble it out as I head to the back of the locker room to grab something to drink. I know our coach is probably going to want to give us a pep talk—he’s always lighter on what he has to say during half time when we’re winning—but I can’t concentrate.

All I can think about is the way I completely fucked up what I meant to do because Zander looked like he was already breaking up with himself on my behalf and I couldn’t let that happen.

I wasnevergoing to let him go.

“You need to tell your little boyfriend to stay out of our space before he gets hurt.” Easton’s voice is a hiss in my ear that pulls me out of my thoughts, and my hand comes out in a flash, grabbing him by the throat so I can jerk him closer.

“Threaten him again and see what fucking happens, Easton. I’ll?—”

“Slade! Kirby!” Coach’s voice is an irritated roar that forces me to let go, though I flex my fingers on Easton’s throat for just a second to let him feel the pressure of my threat.

We both give a quick“Sorry Coach, just messing around,”but I keep my eyes on Easton as he makes his way across the room.

Damn it. Zander really is fucking with my head, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t give him up—I can’t take those words back.

I love you.

Plans—I’d had plans. And now I was having to put my game face on so we could go back onto the field.

And fuck me if he isn’t standing right there waiting, following along beside our team with a lost expression on his face.

“Kerian?”

Who thefuckfollows someone to the edge of the field?

“Kerian!” He shouts it this time, and I can’t ignore him. I pivot on my heel, feeling every stride of anger in my step, every bit of frustration that he’s forced me into doing this.

That Zander Braithe is fucking up everything.

I’m rough when I grab him by the front of his shirt, and my kiss is hard enough that I can taste copper. I don’t care—and I don’t pay attention to the sounds coming from the stadium or anyone around me. For just a second, my world is narrowed down to that kiss—apples and copper.

Zander.Everythingis Zander.

It always has been from that first kiss until this one.

It makes me lean into him before I completely pull back, a tender swipe of my tongue brushing away the pain. “Listen, Zander… can you please just go into the stands and fucking cheer for me like a normal boyfriend for five goddamn seconds? We can talkafterI win.”

And there’s that wide expression again, chased by a blush that blossoms across his cheeks and a smile that’s brighter than the floodlights above us.

“Boyfriend?”

“Oh, myGod. Zander?—”

“You saidboyfriend.”

“Fuck’s sake, go sit down.” I shove him away from me, but my eyes chase the stupid grin on his face as he bites his lower lip and nods, then half stumbles, half runs toward the stands.

Fuck, this isdifferent.Iwas the one who came across the field this time and kissed him, and I did it with intention.

I did it with a purpose.

I did it because it feltgoodto show everyone here that he’smine. Maybe it’s ridiculous, but I really don’t care.

And knowing Zander is in the stands cheering for me, I feel like a fucking superhero.

I’m pretty sure I canhearhim screaming my name, and it makes me play better than I ever have before. I’ve never felt like I had someone here cheering for me—not for what they could get from me, and not because they’re excited about the game.

Forme.

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