Page 108 of Breakout
She’s all that matters.
I continue to celebrate with the guys until it’s time to be presented the championship trophy. We all cheer and pose with it, kissing it and hugging it. It’s ridiculous, but the high from the win has us acting like fools.
The smile never leaves my face.
Not through the after-game interviews.
Not when we are introduced to Brantley fucking Gibson, owner of the Boston Foxes.
Not through the champagne shower in the locker room.
Not once.
After taking a real shower, I stride out into the hall on cloud nine.Peyton is waiting there with Grace and Cora. I don’t even stop my momentum as I pick Peyton up, wrapping my arms around her as I walk her backward until her back is against the wall.
“You look fucking amazing with my name on your back. I’m going to fuck you in that jersey later.”
She giggles, kissing my cheek as I lower her to the ground.
Turning, I open my arms for Grace, who walks into them willingly.
“Congratulations, Beckett. You played great,” she tells me.
“Your man won the game for us, though. You better give him something good later.”
Her cheeks redden as she nods.
Cora steps up next. “That’s my brother you are talking about. So gross.”
I hug her back. “Kellan didn’t do half bad either, so ya know, you do your thing too.”
“Who is going to do the same for you?” She quirks an eyebrow, looking at Peyton.
I shrug. “The night is young. Only time will tell.”
Brett comes out, interrupting us as he grabs Grace, making her squeal.
“We won. Can you believe it? We are partying down at the hotel bar. Mr. Gibson asked them to keep it open late for us. I guess he’s friends with the owner,” Brett says.
“That’s awesome,” Cora says. “I’m down for some dancing.”
“Me too,” Peyton says, stepping up into my side.
I don’t miss the way she lets her hand brush mine. I want so badly to grab it. Does she want the same thing?
Clay and Kellan walk out together next, joking and laughing. They each grab their girls, giving them long kisses while the rest of us stand there awkwardly.
“Come on, Peyton. Kiss me. I need something,” Brett jokes.
It makes me stiffen. I want to punch my best friend right now, which is irrational because he has no idea of what Peyton is to me. I haven’t told him.
Peyton laughs it off, grabbing my hand and squeezing it. “Nah, I’ll risk my chances with Beck here.”
Brett laughs. “Of course you will. Women really love the broody assholes, huh? I swear Wyatt could have a buffet of pussy if he wanted. Goalies, am I right?”
Wyatt walks up then, smacking Brett on the back of the head. “You’re the dumbass who didn’t want to be a goalie. I can’t help girls like a man who can use his hands. Are we going or what?”
“Let’s get out of here, lovebirds,” Brett yells, getting the couples to break apart.
