Page 7 of Catch
What am I saying? We’re gonna win.
I repeat that mantra in my head and roll my shoulders.
“Let’s go already!” I shout, and the sound carries across the field.
When the Crew, headed by Jett, stalks over, my confidence begins to waver. It’s so unlike me that I place a hand to my forehead and check to make sure I don’t have a fever. The Cougars are fit, but these rowing guys take it to the next level. They carry themselves with innate grace, like they’re… well, like they’re moving through water. Hockey players, on the other hand, are rough and tumble. At least on the soccer field.
Jett’s determined gaze is so fired up that I know this isn’t going to be an easy game, despite the casual bet. Whatever’s riding him, it’s fuelling his competitive spark, and he’s taking this a lot more seriously than I anticipated. His teammates, on the other hand, seem relaxed. All of them are smiling at us as we shake hands.
Everyone except him.
“Coin toss for the kickoff. Do you want heads or tails?” I offer Jett when he meets me at center circle.
“Heads.”
“No surprise there, mister three-point-eight GPA.”
“It’s four,” he snarks back. “Toss it already.”
“I’ll do it.”
The voice belongs to Silas’s younger brother, Josiah, who volunteered to be our referee. My hand is sweaty, but I manage to reach into my pocket and pass the coin to him. He flips it, and I hold my breath as I wait for the drop.
Heads. Fuck.
“Dammit,” I mutter.
“You’re so freaking easy,” Jett murmurs.
“Yeah, and? You got a problem with casual sex?” I quip.
“Of course not.” Jett rolls his eyes. “My issue is annoying fuckboys who make every conversation about their dick. Stop talking and start playing.”
Jett’s angry demand has me flushing hot. Fuck, Iamcoming down with something.
I ignore the chuckles from my teammates and back away to take my position, all the while staring at Jett as he prepares for the kick off. That thunderous expression is back on his face and he’s looking at the ball as if he’s going to destroy it.
Like Maddox, I feel oddly vulnerable without all my hockey gear. There’s nothing out here to protect me—except my cup—and if Jett’s legs are any indication, that ball is going to fly fast and hard.
And hopefully not at my dick.
Jett winds up and goes for it, launching the ball so far down the field it’s only a few feet away from Maddox. The game’s on and everyone leaps into action. Only, no one’s slamming into each other, and running this huge-ass field is not as easy as it looks.
And what the hell… Hudson and Jett are already pushing into our zone.
Please, God, not a goal already.
Thankfully, Silas is nearby to intercept them, and he quickly passes the ball to Finn, who’s fast as fuck and starts bringing it up.
Until Hudson makes his move, his footwork even fasterthan our scrappy defenseman. Finn loses control of the ball and Hudson takes off with it. He drives it back down and we’re defending our zone again.
Ten minutes of this back and forth goes by, and finally I get possession of the ball. But it’s not a breakaway. I get cornered by Jackson, so I fire the ball to Axel, who takes it the rest of the way and makes his play. Archie’s in net for the Crew, and when he leaps to block the shot, it doesn’t matter. The ball hits the crossbar.
No goal. Not even close.
But we don’t let up.
Twenty minutes in—nearly halftime—and I charge forward along with Dane, and deke in and out of the Crew’s defenders, Jackson and Hudson. Both guys are just as fast, and quickly block my way. Dane somehow manages to snag the ball back and he’s off.
