Chapter 12
Zac
Our winning streak continues with an away win against Coleridge and a home win against Stanley University.
Noah hasn’t reverted to his arsehole self, but he’s avoided me since the run-in with that man in the car park after the Macquarie game.
It was his dad, I think. If that’s how the man treats him in public, I shudder to think what life was like at home.
I have so many questions, the first being why he would refer to my sister as my girlfriend. Unless he was referring to Jade, but I wouldn’t go there with Theo’s sister. Ever.
Seeing the way Noah’s dad grabbed him gives me a little insight into why he’s so intense. Not that I’m excusing his past behaviour—I haven’t done anything to deserve his vitriol, and while he’s acting indifferent around me now, I don’t trust him one bit.
We have an away game tonight, and because Westhope University is four and a half hours away, we’ll be staying overnight. I’m packing my overnight bag when Amelia flounces in and flops down on my bed with a huff.
“What’s up, drama queen?” I sign.
She complains about our parents grounding her because she missed curfew last weekend.
“What do you expect?” I sign with a shrug. “Do the crime, do the time.”
She scowls. “Jonathon Crawley invited me to watch a movie at his place tonight. I’m hoping he’s going to invite me to the formal.”
“So, tell him you can come over next week.”
“What if he asks someone else before then?”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“Are you insane?” Amelia shakes her head, her blue eyes shining with tears. “That’s so desperate. Please, Zac. He’s the hottest guy in our year level, and this is my only chance. Why won’t you help me?”
Taking pity on my sister, I scruff her hair. “Okay,” I sign. “I’ll talk to Mum and Dad.”
She swats me away, grinning now. “Don’t mess my hair, jerk.”
“You mean the hair you’ve spent hours straightening?” I tease.
She signs something rude, then laughs.
I arch a brow, zipping my bag closed and slinging it over my shoulder before signing, “Watch it. You’re the one asking me for a favour, remember.”
She sticks her tongue out and says, “Good luck for the game tonight.”
I pause at the door, a smile tugging at my lips. “Thanks. Try not to get grounded again before I’m back, okay?”
She rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone, no doubt texting Jonathon.
I went to high school with his older sister, and he seems like a nice enough guy, so I’m happy to help her out. She deserves someone who’s going to give her the chance to be a normal teenager.
Surprisingly, it doesn’t take long to convince Mum and Dad.
True to form, my sister had thrown a full-blown hissy fit after being told she couldn’t go, but once I explained it was just a movie and that Jonathon seemed like a decent guy, they relented.
Mum softened first. Dad didn’t relent until I promised to call Lauren and make sure her brother knows he’ll have to deal with me if he does anything to hurt Milly.
Not wanting to leave my car in the university car park overnight, Ritter swings by to pick me up, music thumping through the speakers of his Jeep. I toss my bag in the back and climb in beside Blake, who’s arguing with Everett about who’s the greatest current manager in the English Premier League.
“Mate, it’s Guardiola. The man has built a dynasty at Man City. End of discussion,” Everett says, twisting in his seat to glare at Blake.
Our striker snorts. “Try doing what Glasner did with Crystal Palace. He took a mid-table team to the top and turned decent players world class. That’s real management.”
I shake my head as I buckle my seatbelt. “You’re both wrong. Arteta’s changing the game with his set-piece tactics. The man’s a genius.”
Ritter chuckles from the driver’s seat. “Said by a true Arsenal fan.”
I shrug. “What can I say? The Gunners are elite.”
The Jeep fills with laughter as Ritter pulls away from my house. Conversation moves from the EPL to our overnight trip.
“You’d want to hope you’re not bunking with Dane,” Everett groans. “Coach put us together on the last trip because we’re the youngest on the team. The dude snores like a fucking freight train. I didn’t get a wink of sleep.” He looks at me. “He’s your backup. You should have to put up with it.”
I flip him the bird.
“I’d rather put up with snoring than listen to another minute of Doyle’s mushy girlfriend talk,” Ritter says, pitching his voice high to mimic our centre-mid. “You hang up first. No you. I wuv you, too, baby girl.” He makes exaggerated kissing noises, and we all crack up.
Blake grins at me. “I’d happily bunk with you again, bro.”
“Same.” I hold my hand out and he slaps it in a high-five handshake.
“Yak it up, ladies,” Ritter grumbles, catching my eye in the rearview mirror. “Your luck is bound to run out. You know Coach likes to rotate room assignments to foster team building or some shit.”
“More likely to stop players from killing each other,” Everett adds, shaking his head.
We pull into the car park and pile out, grabbing our bags and heading to the waiting bus. Coach Raynor marks our names off, and we store our bags under the bus before climbing aboard.
The hum of the engine vibrates underfoot as we find seats. Ritter claims a spot by the window, and I slide in next to him. Everett plants his arse in front of us, already settling his headphones on, and Blake sprawls himself on the seat across.
The last of the players straggle on, then the bus eases out of the car park, and I lean back, listening to the chatter and laughter of the guys with the familiar mix of nerves and anticipation buzzing through me.
We scraped in a messy win against Westhope University three-two, securing fourth spot on the ladder.
After our dismal start to the season, things are looking up.
Next Friday night, we play BHU again on their home turf, and I have no doubt we have what it takes to beat them.
It’s also Euphoria’s masked night, and I’m excited to celebrate with my mysterious shadow.
I haven’t had sex in months, and the thought of him punching into me with that Prince Albert piercing has my cock twitching in my pants.
Coach Johnson calls for quiet as the bus pulls into the motel car park after the game, and Ritter shoots me a hopeful look as Coach Raynor calls out room assignments.
Everett and Blake high-five when their names are called out together. Ritter groans when he finds out he’s bunking with Dane. But my heart stops when I hear my roommate’s name.
Noah fucking Bentley.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I turn my head to the back of the bus, finding our captain—there’s no way he’ll be okay with this—but he avoids my gaze, turning to say something to Jasper.
“Swap you,” Ritter offers, but we both know it’s futile. Coach won’t change assignments. We’re a team, and we’re expected to act as such.
“This should be fun,” I mutter as I push to my feet and make my way off the bus.
Coach hands me a key, and I grab my bags. I don’t bother waiting for Noah, trudging over to our room and claiming the bed closest to the door.
Kicking off my shoes, I lie back with my hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling. The door opens and closes, but I don’t say anything. The ball’s in his court.
There’s a thud as he drops his bags on the floor, and the squeak of mattress springs as he settles on his bed. Then nothing.
A weird energy thrums through me, and my chest tightens. Not knowing what Noah’s thinking about rooming with me has me on edge, but I’m not about to break the ice. He’s the captain, and he’s the one who’s been a dick to me for the past eight months. I don’t owe him shit.
“Tough game tonight,” he mutters, his voice cutting through the tension.
My jaw tightens. Here we go. The blame game is about to start.
“No kidding,” I snap.
He exhales sharply. “Look, I know I’ve been a dick to you, but I’d rather not spend the night wondering if you’re going to shiv me in my sleep.”
I sit up and glare at him. “Me? You’re the one who can’t stand being anywhere near me, scared people are going to question your sexuality.”
A weird expression crosses his face, but he masks it quickly. “My sexuality is no one’s business.”
“Whatever,” I mutter, shaking my head.
Grabbing my bag, I stalk into the adjoining bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready for bed. When I return, he’s still lying on top of the sheets, tapping away at his phone.
“Texting your girlfriend?” I don’t know why a pang of jealousy hits me when I say the words. I don’t give a shit what Noah Bentley does with his time or who he’s dating.
“What?” Confusion crinkles his brow.
“The pretty blonde you’ve been seeing?” It’s none of my business, and I don’t know why I’m pushing this, but I can’t seem to shut my mouth.
Recognition flashes in his eyes. “Hannah? Oh… yeah. I’m, uh, just texting her about the game.”
I don’t know why, but I get the sense he’s lying. It doesn’t stop the next words coming out of my mouth.
“How does she feel about you sharing a room with your bi teammate?”
Noah tosses his phone to the side and sits up to face me, running a hand through his dark hair. “Can we call a truce? I don’t care that you’re bisexual, and I’m sorry for all the shit I’ve said in the past, but can we just put it behind us?”
I scoff. “You want to be friends?”
He shrugs. “It’s better than being at each other’s throats. We’re teammates.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry for being an arse.” He holds out his hand. “What do you say? Truce?”
I stare at him warily before reaching over to shake his hand. “Truce.”
He grins, settling back onto his bed as I get into mine. “I didn’t realise you knew sign language.”
My lips tug into a smile, and I wonder how Amelia went on her movie date with Jonathon. “Yeah, it’s for my sister, Milly.”
His brow lifts. “Your sister?”
I chuckle. “Yeah, dickhead. My sister. Most definitely not my girlfriend.”
Noah grimaces. “Sorry. I saw you with those two girls and I just assumed you were hooking up with both of them.”
“What? Because I’m bi?”
He shrugs, looking a little sheepish. “I guess. I don’t know what kind of kinky shit you’re into.”
“Wow.” I snort, shaking my head. “Yeah… no. I’m not into family kink.”
“But you’re not opposed to threesomes?”
My mouth goes dry, and I fight to ignore the fluttering sensation in my stomach.
“Why?” I shoot back. “You offering a night with you and your girl?”
He huffs a laugh. “Definitely not.”
The silence stretches, but it feels different now—less of a divide and more introspective. I risk a glance over at Noah. He doesn’t look as guarded as he usually does. Maybe we really can put all this bullshit behind us and be mates.
“Can I ask you a question?”
He turns to meet my gaze but doesn’t say anything.
I take that as my opening.
“What was that with your dad in the car park after the Macquarie game?”
His eyes darken. “Just the usual Carl Bentley bullshit.”
“He’s violent?”
“Not really. Forget it. He’s nothing I can’t handle.”
His phone vibrates, and he checks the screen, a soft smile playing on his lips.
“So, you and Hannah are serious?”
He glances at me, then looks back to his phone. “Now who’s feeling out who?”
I grin. “Just trying to make conversation.”
Noah sighs. “We’re taking it slow, seeing what happens.”
“That’s cool.”
“Yeah.” He plugs his phone in to charge, then climbs off the bed and takes his turn in the bathroom.
By the time he comes back out, I’ve turned off my lamp and settled into my sheets in the semi-darkness.
He pads across the room in nothing but his boxers, and my mouth goes dry when I catch sight of the impressive bulge.
Fuck. I look away quickly, not wanting him to catch me checking him out.
Besides, he has a girlfriend. Not that I’m interested.
We’ve just agreed to a truce, and I don’t want to piss him off again.
I stare at the ceiling, trying to think of anything other than the half-naked guy in bed beside me as he climbs under the covers and switches off his lamp. I’ve never had this problem with any of my other teammates, so why the fuck can’t I catch my breath?
“Night,” he says into the darkness.
“Night,” I choke out, rolling onto my side.
It’s going to be a long fucking night.