CHAPTER 12
MATTY
“Ican feel you staring at me,” I said without looking up.
The tape around my wrist was slick with sweat. I pulled at it slowly, the edges catching on my skin.
Jace didn’t even try to deny it. “Hard not to when you just made out with the mascot on live TV, Matty-kins.”
The locker room erupted. Towels smacked against benches, someone whistled, and Parker’s laugh rolled above the noise.
“You’re one of us now,” Parker said, his voice full of smug satisfaction. “Welcome to the club of men who’ve lost their minds over a girl.”
I dragged a towel over my face, not bothering to respond.
Garrett snorted from across the aisle. “Difference is, your girls didn’t have fur.”
Jace grinned. “He’s breaking new ground. I’m proud.”
I shot him a glare, but he just grinned wider, that pretty-boy, golden-hair-falling-in-his-eyes grin that made Riley forgive him for saying shit like that.
“Her name’s Ophelia,” I said reverently.
I hadn’t stopped saying it in my head since I heard it shouted down the tunnel during the game.
It rolled around my brain on constant replay. Every syllable had its own pull. Soft, dangerous. Beautiful. Just like her.
Ophelia.
It was ridiculous how much power a single word could have. How her name alone could make me feel something claw its way up my chest like it belonged there.
Jace whistled delightedly. “Is that the same girl you met in class a few days ago? The one I witnessed you screaming after like a lunatic as she was walking away?”
Parker laughed under his breath. “Wait, that was her?”
I didn’t answer, which was answer enough.
Jace shook his head with a grin. “Her name and a public make-out in one week? Impressive, Matthew. I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you.”
I scowled at him. “Need I remind you I have multiple stalkers? Obviously, I have game when it comes to women.”
“Then why does she keep running away from you?” Garrett mused.
“And why has your parking lot stalker been a no-show as of late?” Jace pointed out.
My scowl deepened at that reminder. Although, it had been hard to remember anything about that with Ophelia taking up so much room in my mind.
Parker tossed me a bottle of water, and I caught it without looking. I twisted the cap and took a drink, preparing myself for whatever mockery I was going to get next.
Jace leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, that grin turning wicked. “So, what’s the plan, Adler? You gonna lurk outside the tunnel until she shows up? Steal her mascot head and keep it as a trophy? Sleep with it under your pillow?”
I tilted my head, letting my voice go quiet and thoughtful. “Hmm. Should I sleep under her bed instead? Maybe put a tracker in her neck? Or get her kicked out of her dorm room so she has to move in with me?”
The group went silent for half a beat.
Jace froze mid-smirk. “You—”
Garrett’s gaze flicked between us. “That sounds…oddly specific.”
Parker didn’t even try to hide his grin. “It does, doesn’t it?”
I smirked at him. “Should I make another list for you?”
That earned a low laugh from Parker, the kind that said he was both amused and absolutely unbothered. “Go ahead. I could use a refresher.”
I groaned, dragging a hand over my face. “I need to remind myself not to take romantic advice from the two of you.”
Parker’s grin widened. “You say that now, but give it a week, and you’ll be calling us for tips.”
Jace nodded. “You can’t deny that we’re experts in getting the girl.”
I snorted. “I guess that’s one way to describe felony-level courtship.”
Parker didn’t even flinch. “I prefer to call it effective-level courtship.”
“Y’all are hilarious,” I muttered.
I was giving them a hard time, but I couldn’t deny my mind was going to some crazy places.
Not the pillow thing. I wasn’t that far gone.
But other things…
Like how I wanted to know the exact brand of perfume she wore, what time she went to bed, what she looked like sleeping.
I wanted her routine mapped out in my head like a playbook—every move, every breath, every fucking heartbeat.
I wanted to know what her face would look like if I slipped a note under her door that said I miss you, even though she didn’t know she was mine to miss yet.
I wanted to steal a strand of her hair, twist it around my finger like a ring until it was part of me.
I wanted to hack into her phone’s location data, watch that little dot pulse across campus, knowing I could be there in seconds if she strayed too far.
I wanted to leave my jersey in her dorm closet, folded neat with a drop of my blood on the collar from a fresh cut, just to mark the space as mine.
I wanted to carve our initials into the goalpost at the stadium, deep enough that they’d have to tear the whole thing down to erase it.
Holy shit.
Why did none of those things actually feel crazy? Why did they instead feel…inevitable?
Maybe not the hacking her location thing…I’d probably never be able to figure out how to do that.
But the rest…They all didn’t seem like things completely out of the realm of possibility.
Shit.
“You’re thinking about her right now, aren’t you? I can practically hear the obsessive narration forming in your head,” teased Jace.
“Go to hell,” I said mildly.
He laughed. “You’re already there with me, man. You just don’t know it yet. And spoiler alert…it is sweet.”
Parker leaned back, a towel slung around his neck. “He’s got that look we all had. The one where you’re pretending it’s just curiosity. I’ll just save you the suspense—it never is.”
The guys’ laughter filled the room again, but I barely heard it.
Because they weren’t wrong.
Even if I wanted to fight it…I was starting to wonder if it was already too late.
I could still feel her against me, the way her body trembled.
Ophelia.
I twisted the cap back onto the water bottle and leaned forward, elbows on my knees.
I wasn’t sure what the next step was…I just knew it involved me finding her.
And keeping her.
Not because I was supposed to, but because I needed to.
Fuck.
The hallway outside the locker room was mostly empty now, the sound of the crowd long gone. There was nothing but the echo of my sneakers against the concrete and the faint hum of lights burning overhead.
My hair was still damp from the shower, my hands jammed in my pockets, the collar of my hoodie brushing my jaw. I should’ve felt calm by now—the interviews were done, the press had gotten their sound bites, the trainers had cleared my ankle.
But calm wasn’t happening.
My pulse was still running the game like it hadn’t ended. Every time I blinked, I saw her…the flash of her eyes in the tunnel, the way she’d whispered when she spoke like she didn’t know if she was allowed to talk to me or not.
I didn’t think I could go the whole night without seeing her again.
Jace had somehow hacked into the school records system earlier—on his phone, of all things—and pulled up the dorm list like it was nothing. He’d texted me her room number during the postgame press conference with a winking emoji and the words Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.
Which, considering who it came from, covered exactly nothing.
I hadn’t even opened the message yet, afraid that once I saw it, I’d use it.
But standing in that hallway, the temptation was about to kill me.
I could picture it, me standing outside her window, watching her lie in bed, her hair spilling across a pillow.
My fingers itched toward my phone.
Just to look. Just to see.
One glance.
I was still trying to decide which version of crazy would make me feel less pathetic when I turned the corner—and stopped short.
“Matty!”
Lizzie came tearing down the hallway, her pigtails bouncing, the sleeves of her orange hoodie flapping past her hands. She was half flying, half tripping, and I barely had time to catch her before she collided with me.
“Whoa there,” I said, laughing as my little sister wrapped her arms around my waist. “You trying to take me out before next week’s game?”
“You won!” she said, muffled against my chest. “You said you’d score for me!”
I glanced down at her and smiled. “And I did, didn’t I?”
She nodded enthusiastically, her ponytails hitting my chin.
I smoothed a hand over her hair, still smiling—and then I looked up.
The smile dropped before I could stop it.
Dad was walking toward us, his steps measured, that half smile fixed in place…the one that he used when he was trying to impress someone. Usually he wore a jersey to my games, but tonight he was dressed up. Dark jeans, a. crisp button-down, his watch polished and cufflinks gleaming.
Strange.
Beside him was a man I didn’t recognize, dressed in a tailored suit with a clipboard under one arm and slicked-back hair. He looked like a contract given human form.
I peered behind them, expecting my mom and brothers to be somewhere.
They always came. Even if it meant five hours in the car, even if it meant getting home at two a.m., they showed up—every single game.
Mom with her orange scarf and hoarse voice.
The boys in face paint, yelling my number like lunatics.
I didn’t see them, though.
“Nice finish,” Dad said as he reached us, his voice smooth…and weird. “That last touchdown—you made it look effortless.”
“Thanks,” I said, keeping my tone neutral.
He motioned to the man beside him. “This is Kenton Hale. He’s been helping me with a few things.”
Kenton stepped forward, offering a hand. “Good to meet you, Matthew. How’s the ankle holding up?”
I blinked, caught off guard. “Fine.”
He smiled, polite and unreadable. “You looked solid out there. Strong close.”
“Appreciate it.”
Dad’s hand landed on Lizzie’s shoulder. “We were just about to grab dinner. Thought you’d want to join us.”
Before I could answer, Lizzie gasped like he’d told her a secret. “Please, Matty? Daddy said we’re going somewhere really nice! They have chocolate cake with sprinkles.”