Page 8 of The Rival

It was strange to see his sudden transformation, and I wasn’t sure I was prepared for his answer, if he would even give one. My pulse thundered in my ears, and I was already preparing my aloof, I-don’t-give-a-shit speech if he said what I dreaded hearing.

Right as I was about to slam the locker shut and storm out, Jason caught my arm to stop me. I stiffened, and my duffle bag fell off my shoulder, landing by my sneakers with a soft thud.

Jason cupped my cheek and tilted my head so our eyes met. “Of course I meant it,” he said softly.

And just like that, a heavy weight was lifted off my chest. A tear of relief slid down my cheek, and I grimaced as Jason caught it with his thumb. I hated how he had completely dismantled my resolve. On the court, I was so confident and in command of the game as a point-guard. I didn’t let people push me around, and if someone tried, I’d push back. So why was I getting so emotional over something like this?

Because I had felt a connection to Jason the moment we met years ago, because no one pushed me the way he pushed me to be a better player, a better person. I had invested so much into our rivalry, that if he denied me, if he said it meant nothing, it would cheapen everything I had experienced up until this moment.

“I’m just…” Jason let out a deep sigh. “I never thought we would get to this point. I never thought you’d give me a chance.” He scratched his neck, and I was shocked to see Jason’s cheeks flushed. “Go easy on me, Matt. I’ve been dreaming of this moment for a long time.”

I laughed despite feeling as fragile as glass. To my relief, Jason must have felt as nervous and vulnerable as me, for he rolled his eyes and poked me in the ribs.

“Don’t laugh. This is serious.”

“I just never thought I’d hearyouof all people, Jason, asking me to go easy on you.”

Tension eased from Jason’s shoulders. His smile turned crooked, and then he pressed me up against the metal locker. The hand cupping my cheek moved to stroke my lips which parted for him already on instinct. My eyes fell half-lidded, and all my doubts and fears ebbed as he gazed into my eyes, threatening to unravel me all over again. The same misshapen desire I felt before came roaring back, starving for Jason to fan its flames.

“You love playing rough and dirty, don’t you Matty?”

Before I could respond with my own flirty comment, Jason crashed into me, stealing the breath from my lungs with another sordid kiss. I moaned into his mouth, grinning as he crushed me, chest to chest, against the metal locker. My fingers clutched onto his shirt which probably cost as much as I made in one month’s paycheck. His hand grabbed my thigh and cradled it against his waist, and then his palm slid underneath the fabric of my shorts to feel the muscles of my leg, rising higher to caress my ass.

Fuck, we had just gone through the trouble of getting dressed, and now I wanted him to strip it all off and for him to have his way with me again. I’d had a taste of Jason Alvarez, and now I needed more, more, more.

Jason had better restraint than me. He drew away, and I keened, clawing at him to stay close, but he stopped me by grabbing my wrists and pinning them above my head. I didn’t struggle, I didn’t fight, not as his lips ghosted along fresh hickeys on my neck, not as his nose brushed the knot in my throat.

“Do you have any idea just how long I’ve wanted you?”

I shook my head. He said as far back as the elbow to his face, but something told me it could easily have been for longer—maybe longer than I realized. Had we played against each other in high school too? Had I encountered Jason then and not even registered it? How far back did our rivalryactuallygo?

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low. “You don’t. So you’re going to have to be patient.”

Then his mouth slotted against mine, and I was a goner. I was down bad for Jason, willing to break every rule I had made for myself for him. He was trouble incarnate. He would ruin me if I wasn’t careful, but maybe it was only fair. Apparently I’d fired the first shot at some point during our winding history without realizing.

Jason released me, tearing his mouth from mine. His eyes raked over my form, pleased and satisfied with my just-fucked state. My lips were red and swollen, eyes wide under the dim locker room light, hair askew in all directions.

“Fine,” I huffed, wiping a trail of saliva sliding down my chin. “I’ll try to be patient. But I’ve never been with anyone, period, so…”

“I know.” Jason patted the Westvale Wildcats logo on my chest and stepped back. “That’s why I’m trying not to fuck this up.”

Some would argue we already had by driving past dating and careening over the guardrail by getting handsy in a locker room shower. We were rivals. Up until less than an hour ago, I thought he was a self-righteous prick and a poor loser. We were doing this completely out of order.

But maybe that was just narrow-minded thinking. We had played against each other in the same league, maybe more, and we had courted each other through our own language: a mutual love of basketball and healthy competition.

“I’m heading back to my restaurant for a late dinner,” Jason said, grabbing his keys and wallet from his locker. “Would you like to come?”

Again, Jason was offering me an out, but this time there was no doubt in my mind over what I wanted.

I hefted my duffel bag onto my shoulder again and flashed him a grin. “I’m not sure I’m dressed for the occasion.”

“It’ll be a private dinner for two,” Jason reassured.

I swallowed thickly and shoved my hands into my hoodie’s pockets. Damn, so he really did mean everything. We were about to go on a date. This was really happening. I could hardly believe it.

I needed to regain some ground, keep him on his toes.

“Alright then,” I said with a sly grin. “I’ve always wanted to try your place anyways. See if you’re as good at food as you are at basketball.”

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