Page 128 of Scrum Heat

Finn groans without turning around. “Why is it alwaysmeyou want to lift?”

“Because you’re bendy and look good in slow motion,” Theo says, crouching behind him with a little too much enthusiasm. “Also, I like grabbing your thighs.”

“Ihatethis dynamic,” Finn mutters, already stepping into position. “I am a serious athlete.”

“You’re a sentient bicep with a rom-com face,” Theo replies, adjusting his grip with exaggerated care. “Just accept your destiny and soar for the camera.”

Frankie’s crouched low behind the tripod near the sideline, pretending to focus on exposure settings while very obviouslynotblinking. She’s wearing Finn’s oversized jacket; hood up against the wind, cheeks flushed, lip tucked between her teeth in concentration—

But when Theo cups his hands dramatically under Finn’s butt like he’s proposing marriage and shouts, “Up you go, my beautiful gazelle!”, shesnorts.

Loud enough that Finn turns to glare at her over his shoulder.

“I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

Frankie lifts the camera a little higher, fighting a grin. “Not if the footage turns out. Try to look majestic.”

“Iammajestic,” Finn huffs.

Theo plants his feet and mutters, “Not with that posture, you’re not. Squeeze your glutes, I’m not hauling dead weight.”

“This is harassment,” Finn deadpans as Theo lifts him again—clean and powerful, thighs flexing, form annoyingly perfect.

Frankie bites her lip harder. She’s not filming rugby content anymore—she’s filming a disaster comedy, and they all know it.

She’s been filming most of today’s training session. Just ‘little clips for socials’, she’d said; but I can see right through it: she’s not just filming—she’swatchingus,trackingus.

Trackingme.

I feel her even when I’m not looking. Her scent’s in the air—stronger now that we’re all bonded and blended. She’sours,and it’s wrapped around the breeze, soaked into the tackle pads, clinging to the necks of our shirts and the grip tape on our fingers.

It settles low in my chest, humming like a second heartbeat.

I don’t need to glance over to know she’s smiling. I feel it through the bond. That low, content buzz just beneath my skin—like she’s proud, like she’ssettled.

And god, it feels good. Not just to be hers, but to know that we’re herstogether. That it’s done.

There’s no more unspoken tension, no more waiting to see if we’ll implode. We’ve been through the fire, and we walked out bonded;allof us. The pack is solid, tied, complete—

And I didn’t realize how much weight I’d been carrying until it lifted.

This? This is how it’s supposed to be.

Rory shouts the trigger word—“Lift!”—and Theo and the front lifter explode upward, now hauling Finn into the air by his thighs and waistband. It’s clean and controlled, this time; a textbook back lifter technique used for actual play rather than social media content. Finn’s body straightens mid-air, and for a second, he justhangsthere: arms stretched high, his legs locked tight.

I track his balance, watching Theo adjust the angle and noting the smirk twitch at the corner of Frankie’s mouth as she catches it all on camera.

“We doour ownstunts!” Finn yells midair.

“Shut up and catch something!” Theo shouts back.

Laughter ripples from the B-team, but I can see the cracks starting. They’re watching us now—not with rivalry, but with something close to reverence. Or maybe unease.

They don’t know how to match it. Can’t smell it the way we do.

One of the younger Academy backs mutters to his teammate, “Is it just me, or does itsmelllike something serious out here?”

The other guy nods. “Yeah. Like... a bonded unit. Or sex. Or both.”

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