Page 71 of All Too Well
“Is it because now there are witnesses?”
“Yes.”
I bump his shoulder. “Don’t worry, no one really reads my articles anyway. Let’s just hope it doesn’t go viral.”
“Knowing my luck—it will.”
Knowing my luck—it won’t.
“Well, either way, you better get out there and show those little girls what you’re made of, big guy.”
Lachlan grunts and then rushes onto the field, and I grab my chair to watch the shit show.
The thing is, it’s not a shit show. It could be, but I’m not watching the game. I’m watching him. About ten minutes into the game, he ripped his shirt off, tossing it at me as he ran past. Now he’s shirtless, and every glorious muscle is on display. His arms are huge, and he moves with such grace it’s making me hotter than I’d care to admit.
After about an hour of them running back and forth, yelling at each other, and yelling when they get a point—Touchdown? What the hell do they call it? I really need to learn these freaking terms before the article—they form a huddle.
His back is to me, that perfect ass pushed out, and I want to bite it.
Where the hell did that come from?
I shake that thought away and have to get control when he comes to the sideline.
“Hey, I need my shirt back.”
The one I’m clutching to my chest like a two-year-old with her blanket. Yeah, that shirt.
“Oh, here.” I hand it over and he winks at me.
I melt. Because I’m a dork.
Or because it’s a thousand degrees out, but I’m pretty sure it’s the dork part of me.
“If we score in the next five minutes, it’s over. It’ll be a mercy rule,” Lachlan explains, but I’m too busy staring at his chest before he covers it with the shirt again.
“Cool,” I manage to get out.
Cool? Seriously? I have no game at all. Not that I think I need game, because since our kiss nothing has happened.
He winks. “Don’t blink or you’ll miss the good stuff.”
“So you’ve been holding back?”
“Just watch.”
Sure enough, about two minutes later, they come running off with huge smiles. The sad part is that I did, in fact, miss thescoring.
“That was great. You guys did amazing,” I say, hoping it sounds sincere, because honestly, I wouldn’t have known who won if it weren’t for their singing “We Are the Champions” at the end.
None of them look like they’re about to keel over, so that’s promising. When they get close, Lachlan pulls me in for a hug, plastering me to his nasty, sweaty chest as he walks.
“Lach! Eww! You’re so gross!”
They all laugh, and he keeps walking, forcing me to go backward as I try to pry myself out of his grasp. “Hey now, if you’re going to be a part of the team, you need to suffer too.”
After another second of struggling, he releases me, and I glare at him. “Ick. I need a shower now.”
“Me too.”
