CHAPTER 36
MATTY
The stadium roared around me, a hundred thousand voices folding into one as the ball hit my palms and I broke through the line. I barely felt the hit that came too late or the grass tearing under my cleats.
Touchdown.
I spiked the ball, adrenaline searing through me like fire. My teammates tried to swarm, giving me slaps to my helmet and shouts in my ear, but I made them wait until I did my celebration dance.
The one that perfectly matched the moves Ophelia had just performed for the crowd, of course.
I made her teach me the tiger’s dances every week so I had them ready.
And then it was time for the next part of my celebration.
Kissing her.
I jogged toward the sideline, looking around with a grin until I spotted the orange tiger mascot—my tiger—jumping up and down.
My chest warmed.
Then the warmth curdled.
Because it took me half a second to realize that the jersey she was wearing, the one stretched over that tiger suit, wasn’t mine.
It was Parker’s.
My breath stuttered. The grin died on my face.
The noise of the crowd blurred into a dull, roaring hum as a strange ringing sound filled my ears.
She was jumping up and down, pom-poms shaking, completely oblivious. And all I could see was the bold number on her back—his number—flashing every time she moved.
My vision went red.
I wasn’t even aware I’d stopped moving until Jace’s hand hit my shoulder. “Hey, man. You good?”
No. Of course I wasn’t good.
“She’s wearing his jersey,” I growled.
Jace blinked, confused. “Who?”
“Ophelia.”
I sprinted straight for her, cleats pounding the sideline, the roar of the crowd turning into a distant wave. She saw me coming and froze mid-jump.
I didn’t slow.
I reached her in four strides, grabbed the tiger head with both hands, and ripped it off. Her hair spilled out in a wild, sweaty tangle, her face flushed, lips parted in shock.
Before she could speak, I crushed my mouth to hers.
Hard.
Possessive.
A kiss that said mine in every slide of my tongue, every bite of my teeth.
She melted into me, a soft whimper vibrating against my lips.
I broke the kiss only long enough to yank Parker’s jersey over her head, tearing the fabric at the seams and tossing it into the grass like trash.
“What are you—” she started, breathless.
I stripped my own jersey off in one motion, the crowd exploding behind us.
Then I grabbed her wrists, forced my jersey over her head, and tugged it down until my number stretched across her chest.
“There,” I said happily. “That’s better. You’re only allowed to wear my name, pretty baby. Only mine.”
Her eyes were wide as she glanced down at the jersey and then back up to me.
I kissed her again, slower this time, sealing the claim.
“Keep it on, Ophelia. I’ll see you after I win this fucking game.”
I spun and jogged back to the team, the crowd losing their minds, her taste still burning on my lips, my name blazing across her back…
And the wrong catch finally in my hands.