Page 91 of Be My Endgame

“Found your wrestling blazer?” he asked, and Alex leaned down to rub their noses together.

“It was never missing—I just let you win before.”

The momentary sharpening of Lee’s focus was all the warning Alex got before his world tilted sideways, Lee’s legs tight around his upper body as Lee flipped them over. Alex landed on his back with a gasp of laughter, Lee’s triumphant face above him. “Still gonna claim that you let me win, babe?”

“Truth hurts,babe,” Alex volleyed back and timed it to coincide with his hand slipping into Lee’s shorts, cupping Lee’s cock through his briefs. Lee sucked in a harsh breath, lashes fluttering.

“So that’s what they teach at Harrow School?”

“Just about. I mean, what did you expect?” Alex gave Lee’s erection a friendly squeeze. “It’s an all-boys school, and we shared rooms. Puberty is a thing.”

“I think—” Lee broke off for a stifled groan when Alex tucked two fingers down the front of Lee’s briefs, scratching his nails over the coarse hair at the base of Lee’s cock.

“You think?” Alex prompted with a smile.

“I think you just gave me enough wank material for a year.”

“Whatever you’re thinking?” Alex gave a regretful shake of his head. “The truth is nowhere near as wild. Most I’ve ever done are side-by-side wanks with minimal peeking.”

“Nope.” Lee squeezed his eyes shut as he shifted into Alex’s touch, one of his hands flat against Alex’s chest. “Don’t ruin the fantasy—please, and thank you.”

It was light and silly, laughter woven into the words, and yet somehow, a sudden swell of affection nearly robbed Alex’s breath. He brought his free hand up to cup the back of Lee’s neck and draw him into a kiss, everything that wasn’tthisandnowandLeefading to the furthest corners of Alex’s mind.

Freefalling.

Two days to go.At this point, Alex could have recited the stats on his key opposing players in his sleep.

Heat maps. Pass completion rates. Tackles and interceptions.

It had rained halfway through their afternoon training session, the air heavy with humidity and the grass slippery during a hard-fought practice match. Kieran was shouting instructions from the sidelines, and Alex stopped for a second to get the full picture: Jeff over on the right wing, Lee in the centre, both of them closely marked; Finley and Toby passing the ball back and forth as they neared the halfway line; Alfie about to steal the ball from Toby.

Alex darted forward to put himself in Toby’s line of sight—and suddenly his ankle gave out on him, studs caught awkwardly in the soggy turf. Hot pain flashed up his leg.

Fuck.

He rolled with the fall just like he’d learned, chin tucked against his chest as he tried to land on his side. Oh, but it fuckinghurt, and he blinked up at the grey sky for a moment until the world shifted back into focus.

“Alex?” Lee, yeah, that was Lee—Alex’s name uttered in harsh concern.

“Shit, mate.” Finley. “You okay?”

“Fucking hell.” Jeff, crouched beside Alex. “Talk to us.”

Talk, right. Alex could do that.

He sat up, reaching for his foot, and hissed when his hand made contact. “Twisted my ankle a bit,” he gritted out. “Can’t be too bad.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that,” Lachlan said as he appeared by Alex’s side. Alex was about to protest that he didn’t need a doctor because he wasfine, but Kieran’s grim expression made him swallow the words back down.

Alex was fine, though. He had to be.

Still he couldn’t suppress the sharp intake of breath when Lachlan probed his ankle. Fucking …fuck. He ducked his head so he wouldn’t have to see Lachlan’s frown, Lee’s wide eyes, and the tension that radiated from Jeff and Oliver. Centuries slid by while Lachlan made an excruciatingly thorough assessment, Alex biting his lip against any further expressions of pain. If Lachlan didn’t know it hurt, he wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. Right?

Finally, Lachlan sat back on his heels. “I’m so sorry, Alex. I’m afraid it’s a sprain.”

“A sprain,” Alex repeated flatly. It didn’t quite compute.

“We’ll get you iced and wrapped immediately.” Lachlan nodded at someone off to the side, Alex’s focus too narrow to see or care who it was because … a sprain. A sprain?

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