Chapter 18
Zac
Ispend the weekend in bed sweating out the flu and cursing my stupidity for trying to push myself and going back to classes too early. Of course Noah had to play the hero and drag my sorry arse home. Amelia’s been singing his praises ever since.
Which is why I find myself standing on his doorstep Monday night after training. Coach had me in the gym with the team doctor doing a fitness test while the guys were on the pitch, so I haven’t had the chance to thank my captain yet. Or ream him out for driving my car.
“Yo, he’s alive,” Dane jokes as he opens the door, holding his hand up for a high five as he steps back to let me into the townhouse.
I shoot a wry grin at my replacement. “Sorry to disappoint.”
He chuckles. “I won’t lie, man, it’s been nice to get some pitch time. But we miss you out there.”
“Thanks,” I say as I follow him into the living room. “I miss being out there, but I’m not gonna lie, I’ll need to ease myself back in. That flu hit me like a fucking freight train.”
His grin widens as he drops onto the couch. “I’ve got your back. So, what brings you here?”
I rub the back of my neck. “Is Noah home?”
Dane doesn’t even blink an eye. “Yeah, he’s in his room. Upstairs, second door on the left.” His attention drifts back to the movie playing on the television, and I glance over my shoulder towards the staircase.
I’m tempted to just holler for him to come downstairs, but my feet drag me to the second-floor landing. His bedroom door is closed, and I don’t hear any noise coming from inside as I hover in front of it, but I don’t want to walk in on him and Hannah if she’s here.
I also don’t want to unpack why that thought makes me feel sick to my stomach. She’s his girlfriend. She has every right to be here.
Before I can turn tail and leave, I knock on the door and wait.
“Swear to God, Dane, if you’re here to ask me for more condoms, I’m cutting your dick off. It’s a fucking Monday night.”
I snort a laugh as I push open the door to reveal my topless captain lying on his bed in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, reading a book about Lionel Messi. Holy fuck.
His eyes widen when he sees me, and I stand there like a fucking idiot staring at his sculpted chest and the pronounced V leading down to his…
I clear my throat and drag my eyes up to his, expecting to see anger, but getting thrown again when I see curiosity.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, setting his book aside and sitting in the middle of his bed, his abs rippling from the effort.
“Huh?” My tongue is suddenly heavy in my mouth. I mentally shake myself. He’s straighter than the lines on a pitch. I’m an idiot for lusting after something I can’t have. Thank God I have my date this weekend with my masked shadow. “Oh, um, yeah. I’m feeling better. Thanks.”
This is going worse than I imagined. I should have just waited until I saw him around campus or at training on Wednesday.
“You looked like shit.”
Ouch.
“Thanks,” I mutter. “It wasn’t pleasant.”
He gestures at his desk chair in the corner, but I really should leave. Being in his room, surrounded by his masculine scent, is sending all my synapses into overdrive. I don’t want to say something I’ll regret.
But I’m here for a reason, so I sink into the comfortable leather.
“I just wanted to say thanks for getting me home last week. I was delirious and shouldn’t have been behind the wheel.”
“No sweat,” he says lightly. “You would’ve done the same for me.”
Would I?
Instead of dwelling on that loaded question, I look around his room. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it’s surprisingly neat. No, not neat. It’s precision perfect, not a thing out of place. Even the small bookshelf under the window is organised according to book size.
“You, uh, made quite an impression on Milly,” I say when the silence becomes oppressive.
This elicits a warm chuckle from him, the sound shooting straight to my dick. I shift in my seat.
“She’s a spitfire,” he says, shaking his head in amusement.
I grin. “She’s definitely something.”
“So, when will you be back?”
“Coach Johnson wants to ease me back into training this week, so I’ll ride the bench this weekend, and hopefully be back for the away game against Hightower next week.”
He nods. “That’s good. I love Dane, but he charges out too early, leaving the goal open, and their striker will eat that shit up. We need someone steady between the posts.”
My body warms from the inside. Did Noah Bentley just pay me a compliment?
“Thanks, man. I expected you to make it hard for me to come back in with Dane being your housemate and all.”
He shrugs. “The kid’s still young. He’ll step right into the number one spot after graduation, no doubt about it, but he’s got a bit of work to do.”
The awkward silence engulfs us once more. I shift in my seat. “Well, I guess I’ll see you at training on Wednesday.”
“Do you want to play GTA?” he blurts.
I blink. “You want to hang out? With me?”
He gives me a crooked grin that has my stomach doing backflips. “Why not? We’re mates, aren’t we?”
“Mates,” I repeat.
“Yeah,” he says, scooting off his bed. “Jasper just got the latest update. It’s pretty sweet.”
“Sure.” I follow him out of his room, unable to keep my eyes off his bare skin. Would it kill the guy to put a shirt on?
Dane’s still watching a movie and ignores us as we head out back to the games room where Noah fires up the gaming console.
I drop onto the couch.
“Where’s Jasper?”
“Studying at the library, I think,” he says, clicking through the settings. “He has an assignment due tomorrow.”
Distracted by what he’s doing, he walks backwards and sits down, practically landing on my lap. He lets out a yelp of surprise, scooting away from me. It would be comedic if it didn’t reiterate just how straight my captain is.
“Sorry,” he mutters, his cheeks flaming.
“All good,” I reply, my jaw tightening.
Noah tosses me the controller. “You can go first.”
We spend the next hour playing GTA and trash-talking, and I slowly relax. Noah’s not a bad guy. I still don’t know what his problem was with me last year, but I’ve got to give him props for trying to fix it. Maybe we can be friends after all.
He keeps throwing covert glances my way as we play. Eventually, my curiosity wins out.
“You got something you want to ask me?” My tone is light, disguising the quiver in my stomach.
“What?” he asks, his eyes snapping back to the screen as he taps away at the controller.
“You keep looking at me like you’ve got something to say.”
“Nope,” he says, shaking his head.
“Okay.” I try to focus on the game, but my mind keeps wandering to his girlfriend. “What’s Hannah up to tonight?”
He doesn’t take his eyes off the screen as he shrugs. “Probably studying.”
“You two seem serious.” I wince at how it comes out, like I’m accusing him of something, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“I guess.”
I glance over at him in surprise. “You’re not serious?”
“We’re just seeing what happens.”
“What does that mean?” I don’t know why I’m pushing it.
“Exactly what I said.”
I rub the back of my neck. “Right, sorry.”
“Why are you asking?”
“Just making conversation.”
On screen, he gets hit by a car and respawns in the hospital. He tosses me the controller, and I catch it, the plastic still warm from his hands. I un-pause the screen and manoeuvre our character out of the hospital entrance, jacking the nearest car.
“What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”
The question takes me by surprise, and I snort a laugh, but my thoughts go straight to my masked shadow. I don’t know how to answer. “Can I say it’s complicated?”
He laughs. “Isn’t it always?”
I shrug, trying to focus on the game as I take a sharp left, tyres screeching, then gunning the car down the freeway.
Noah laughs when I narrowly dodge an oncoming truck.
“Bro, you drive like you want to get wasted again.”
I flip him off.
His phone pings with an incoming text message, and he glances down at the screen.
“You keen for some pizza? Jasper’s getting some on his way home.”
I arch a brow. “You’re inviting me for dinner now?”
He shoves my shoulder as he taps out a reply to his housemate. “That’s what friends do.”
“We’re friends now?” I tease, cursing as I swerve to miss a cop car on the screen, mounting the kerb and—
“Shit.”
The car flips twice, lands upside down, and explodes a second later.
Wasted.
I toss the controller onto the coffee table. “There better not be any pineapple on that pizza.”
“Definitely not,” Noah says, slipping his phone away. “But seriously, Kincaid. For someone who’s into cars, your GTA game needs some work.”
I flip him off again and he laughs, picking up the remote and switching on the EPL highlights. He settles back on the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table, and I mirror him.
If you’d told me a month ago that we’d be playing GTA and watching the game, I’d have laughed in your face. I might be confused about my attraction to him, but I’ll take friendship with him any day over the animosity he showed me this past year.
My romantic life isn’t non-existent. I have my masked shadow, and while he’s clearly not comfortable about being out in the open right now, it doesn’t mean he’ll be that way forever.
The sex and the chemistry with him are worth seeing how this all plays out, and I don’t have any immediate prospects outside the club.
Maybe life is messier than I’d like it to be, but I’ve got a new friendship with Noah, a scorching secret romance, and the space to figure out what I want. What more can a guy ask for?