Chapter 38
Zac
The team beat BHU three-two, and a week later, I’m pacing the sideline right beside Coach Johnson as Noah and my teammates play Macquarie. We need to win by two to secure the championship on points.
It’s the sixty-second minute and we’re down one-nil.
Macquarie are on the attack after Jasper’s shot on goal went wide.
The midfield works to close them down, but the ball slips past our first line of defence.
My chest tightens as Dane shifts on his line.
I can practically feel the tension radiating off him, remembering all too well how it felt standing there reading the play and trying to anticipate the direction of the ball.
Noah shouts something I can’t hear from here, but I know his signals, the way he positions himself to force their striker wide.
Ritter hustles on the left, putting pressure on their winger, frustration flickering across his face when the ball slips through.
The ball swings towards the penalty box.
Macquarie’s striker fakes left and drives right, but Noah reads it instantly, cutting off the pass by sticking his foot out at just the right moment to deflect the ball sideways, buying some breathing room.
The crowd screams encouragement as Ritter clears the ball upfield to Doyle, who takes one touch and passes a clean through ball to Jasper.
Blake times his run perfectly, slipping past his defender with some fancy footwork.
He connects with Jasper’s cross, and the ball sails past their keeper to tie the game.
I let out a whoop, and Coach Johnson whirls around to narrow his eyes at me. “Back on the bench, Kincaid. I’m not dealing with your mother’s wrath if you overexert yourself.”
I open my mouth to argue, but his pointed look has me snapping it shut again, and I trudge over to the bench.
My knee bounces as I physically have to force myself to stay on the pine.
Our next scoring opportunity comes in the seventy-seventh minute from a sloppy play by Macquarie.
Griffin takes advantage, playing the ball back to Noah, who scans the pitch for options.
He makes a run downfield before switching down the right side.
Doyle passes to Everett inside the box just as a Macquarie defender slide tackles him, sweeping Everett’s legs out without making contact with the ball.
The whistle blows for a penalty, but all eyes are on Everett to make sure he’s not injured. He grimaces, limping slightly, and Coach Johnson yells out to him, but he shakes his head, walking it off.
Blake lines up for the penalty and has no problem slotting it past their keeper.
The boys celebrate, but Macquarie won’t lie down.
They come back firing, having the next three shots on goal—one goes wide, Dane saves the next, and the third hits the crossbar before Noah clears it, and we breathe easy for now.
We still need one more goal to win the championship on our home turf, but as the clock ticks down, Macquarie’s defence locks in, making it hard for us to get it into our forward line.
Noah’s just as focused, eyes scanning, every muscle coiled and alert as he repositions himself and directs his teammates.
There’s a moment of panic, and my heart’s in my throat when Macquarie break through our defence and their right winger takes his shot. Time stands still as it sails towards Dane in slow motion, and for a second, I worry that he jumps too late, but he gets a tip to it, and it goes out for a corner.
As they set up, Noah calls players back, Dane directing them where he wants them. We can’t risk a last-minute goal when we still need to lock away the game. I hold my breath as the kick connects. There’s a mad scramble in the box, then our players scatter quickly when Dane saves the goal.
“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” I mutter as he plays it out to Ritter.
Macquarie are slow to switch into defence, and he takes advantage of it, sending the ball up the line to Jasper, who wins a one-on-one.
Blake’s covered by two defenders, but that leaves Everett free, and the defenders don’t realise until it’s too late.
The ball sails into the back of the net, and the whistle blows—three sharp blasts.
Game over.
We won three-one.
The championship is ours.
The roar of the crowd is deafening, but all I hear is the thundering of my heart as Beckford’s number seven barrels into my arms, his breath warm against my neck as he clings to me in this moment.
“You did it,” I shout over the chaos.
Noah pulls back, and his infectious grin unravels me.
Then his lips crash into mine, and I’m swept up in the moment, kissing him back before my brain catches up.
The crowd, the noise, the pressure of the championship—all of it melts away.
The magnitude of him claiming me in front of thousands of fans, bold and unafraid, isn’t lost on me, and I’m powerless to resist him.
Our teammates crowd around us, and I reluctantly pull away, catching my breath. Noah’s grin hasn’t faded, and he entwines our fingers, keeping me close as the chaos of celebration swirls around us.
Blake claps Noah on the back, Everett hoots, and Ritter throws his arms around me, hugging me tight. It hurts that I wasn’t out on the pitch with them, but I’m grateful they’re including me in this moment. I bump fists with Dane while Jasper bounces around us like a kid on a sugar high.
With a rocky start to the season, no thanks to the tension between me and Noah, this moment had seemed like a fever dream, but we did it. We won the fucking championship for the second year in a row.
Coach Raynor gets our attention, and the team heads back to the middle of the pitch to shake hands with the opposition. I hang back, flinching when a hand clamps down on my shoulder, and I meet Coach Johnson’s amused gaze.
“I guess you and Bentley sorted out your differences.”
“Guess so,” I say, my cheeks heating.
He chuckles. “Glad to hear it. We’re going to miss you on the pitch next year. I don’t suppose we can convince you to sign up for another degree like your boyfriend so we can keep you too?”
My lips tug into a smile. “No chance, Coach. But thanks for everything.”
I hold my hand out, and he grins as he shakes it.
“No doubt we’ll be seeing you in the stands cheering us on.”
“No doubt.”
He claps me on the shoulder, walking away as Noah approaches. “Well done, captain.”
“Thanks, Coach,” Noah replies. He wraps his hands around my waist, resting his forehead against mine. “We did it.”
“You did,” I agree, but he shakes his head, tightening his grip on me.
“We did it, Zac. You helped us get here.”
I brush my nose over his, kissing him. “We did it.”
The stadium’s sound system crackles, and we move over to join the team for the presentation. I cheer when Noah’s named man of the match, and even louder when he holds up the championship cup. I’m so fucking proud of him.
The cheers of the crowd are deafening when the team enters Carter’s, freshly showered and wearing their Beckford U training tops, their championship medallions hung around their necks.
The owner cleared a section of booths and high-top tables, roping them off for us like we’re celebrities. I guess we are. Or they are—Noah and my teammates. Back-to-back champions. A tray of shots gets passed around, but I wave it off. I still can’t drink with the medication I’m taking.
I lost track of Noah when we arrived, letting him enjoy his moment in the spotlight with everyone congratulating my man, but he appears by my side with a wide grin and passes me a bottle of water.
“I lost you,” he says, kissing my jaw.
“Tonight’s your night,” I say, nodding at the crowd. “Don’t worry about me.”
He frowns, but before he can say anything, a group of guys approach us, and he’s pulled into a conversation.
“Hey,” Hannah greets me with a hug, then slides into the booth across from me. “What a game.”
“It was intense.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” I admit, rubbing my temple.
“Let me know if you want a lift. I’m not drinking.”
“Thanks.” I smile, shifting over in the booth as Noah and Jasper join us.
The din of the bar makes it difficult to follow conversations, but I’m content to sit back and soak up the vibes. Noah’s hand rests heavy on my thigh, and he laughs and jokes with everyone without a care in the world. It’s so good to see him so happy and free.
We receive more than a few curious glances, especially after the kiss earlier. We’ve held hands around campus, but we’ve kept the PDA behind closed doors. Until now.
Noah catches me watching him and smirks. Swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, he grips the back of my neck and rests his forehead against mine.
“You keep looking at me like that, I’m going to take you home and fuck you,” he warns.
“Promise?” I tease, sliding my hand up his thigh, brushing against his hardening dick.
“Fuck,” he groans, crushing his lips to mine in a kiss that leaves me breathless. When he pulls away, his eyes are pure desire, and he grabs my hand, pulling me from the booth.
“What are you doing?” I laugh as he drags me through the crowd to the exit, ignoring our friends as they call out to us.
He ignores me, tapping away at his phone. When he pushes through the exit, there’s an Uber waiting for us, and ten minutes later, we’re locking his bedroom door.
My shirt is whipped off in seconds. Noah shoves me against the door with one hand, while the other pops the button on my jeans. He claims my lips in a bruising kiss.
“I’m gonna need you to do something for me,” he murmurs against my mouth, pushing my jeans down my legs.
“What’s that?” I pant, stepping out of them and kicking them away.
He uses one hand to pull his training top over his head in one swift move, and I swallow as my eyes wash over his chiselled abs. Fuck. His body is mouthwatering. I have a sudden urge to drop to my knees and lick him all over.