Page 148 of Scrum Heat

Right there; center pitch, post-win chaos erupting around us. It’s not loud or showy or anything for the cameras—it’s just real.

Victory. Not just on the scoreboard, but everywhere that matters.

*

The locker room is mayhem.

There’s shouting. Someone’s got a bottle of Prosecco. I’m 90% sure Theo is already trying to sync a playlist labeled “post-win thirst trap edit soundtrack,” and Finn’s doing shirtless push-ups for a crowd of two—Frankie and Harper.

It smells like victory, and protein powder, and unhinged male joy; and there’snowhereI’d rather be.

“Shirts off or you’re not allowed in the TikTok!” Theo announces, waving his phone around while trying to get a decent angle of himself, Finn, and Ben doing a three-man chest bump.

Finn flexes, then yells, “THIS IS FOR THE VIEWS.”

“Are you trying to get the club trending, or get banned?” Jax mutters as he tosses a damp jersey into the laundry bin. “Becausethisis how you get banned.”

“I’ll blur the nips,” Theo says seriously. “I’ve got morals.”

“Do you?” Jax asks.

Frankie’s laughing near the lockers, camera half up, cap backwards, fully caught in the chaos. She’s in the team’s warm-up jacket—mine, I think—and she looks like she’s about ten seconds from being rugby-tackled by affection.

“Frankie,” Theo says, hopping over a bench to get to her, “you’re going to tell the OSC that my hips don’t lie, right?”

“But Theo, your hips tellso manylies,” she deadpans. “Last week they said you could do box jumps without tearing your hamstring.”

“That was slander!” he replies, hand on chest. “And it was barely torn.”

“I have footage,” she says sweetly.

“Why are you like this?”

“Because I have taste.”

Finn drops to the floor beside her, dramatically sprawling over her boots as he mimics Theo.

“Frankie, do you promise to tell the press I was humble in victory?”

“You’re literally shirtless, sparkling with Powerade, and you’ve been singingyour own nameto the tune of ‘We Are the Champions.’”

“Right. So I’m humble,” he confirms.

I roll my eyes at their ridiculousness before I reach for a nearby towel and toss it over his head.

Jax catches my eye from across the room and gives me the smallest nod.

We did it. Weheldit. And even now, with the crowd still roaring outside,we’rethe ones roaring louder in here.

Tom steps into the room with Coach Carter and Graham, instantly ducking a flying water bottle.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that,” our team manager says, straightening his clipboard.

“Well played, boys,” Coach Carter grins. “Remember to keep your heads down, though. The OSC’s still sniffing around.”

Graham adds, “You’ve earned a night. Just don’t turn it into a scandal.”

“Yes, Coach,” the entire team says in a chorus that soundswildlyinsincere.

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