The roar of the crowd was deafening.
It was the first thing I noticed, the first thing that broke through the protective cloud of calmness I’d forged around me. That noise broke the bubble, followed by me being hoisted into the air, onto someone’s shoulders. I laughed and threw my hands up overhead, finding Mom and Dad and Gavin in the stands where they were screaming their heads off, my parents jumping up and down as Gavin waved his fists like a wild man.
And then, I found Zeke.
He ran straight for me, ignoring every trainer who told him to stay put and every reporter who tried to steal his attention on the way. When he was a few feet from me, whoever was carrying me set me down.
And I was in Zeke’s arms in the next instant.
He lifted and I wrapped, tearing my helmet off and throwing it on the field. His arms secured me to him, mine curved around his neck, and before that stupid boy could say a word, I kissed him.
I didn’t care who saw. I didn’t care if Coach was watching or a teammate or a reporter or the whole damn world.
Zeke stilled with surprise when my lips crashed into his, but it quickly faded, replaced by an insatiable kiss in return as he squeezed me tighter. It took everything in me not to hold that kiss, not to deepen it and sweep my tongue against his lips to beg for access.
But it was one thing to kiss a teammate.
It was another thing completely to give the crowd an R-rated show.
I managed to use what little bit of professionalism I had left, breaking the kiss as Zeke dropped me to my feet. We backed away, leaving space between us, but he didn’t drop my hand.
And when we turned, we were met with at least a dozen cameras, microphones nearly hitting us in the face as reporter after reporter hammered us with questions.
My eyes widened, but thankfully Zeke had his wits about him. He held fast to my hand, answering the questions that were game related and ignoring any that tried to ask what the hell that kiss was about. But even the ones who kept their questions centered on the win eyed where we held hands, and I knew without a doubt that this would be part of the game news.
It was likely already trending on Twitter.
Poor Kyle would be so jealous.
Poor Giana would have our heads.
“Thank you for being here and for the questions, but we’re going to celebrate with our team now,” Zeke said at last, and the reporters congratulated us as we ran to join the rest of the team. We finally broke contact then, Zeke clapping Holden’s shoulder in a man hug while I launched myself onto Clay’s back.
Confetti fell like rain, the crowd chanting NBU! NBU! Someone was passing out hats that read Blackberry Bowl Champions with the year and our logo sprawled underneath. Zeke put his on backward before reaching for me, and he tucked my hair behind my ears, popping a hat on my head next.
“Congratulations, Mighty Mouse,” he said, his eyes hooded, smile easy. “You just won your first bowl game.”
A wide grin split my face, and like he was a magnet, I found myself leaning into him again, his arms wrapping around my waist, mine threading behind his neck.
“Oh shiiiiit,” Leo said, making a face before he covered his mouth and turned away.
Holden’s eyes widened, and he elbowed Kyle, who tried to whip out his phone to capture us on video, but Clay swatted his hand down.
“About fucking time,” he said, exhausted.
Holden clapped Leo and Kyle on the shoulder, leading them toward where the trophy was being carted out onto the field while they both gawked over their shoulders at us. Clay left us with a wink before joining them, and I turned my attention back to Zeke with my heart bursting.
“I think there’s something else even more worth celebrating,” I said.
And then I gave up what little worry I had left about what people would think or say, and I kissed him again.
Zeke
The locker room was an absolute frenzy after the trophy ceremony, and I watched that gold behemoth bob over the sea of my teammates as each of them chanted or did a dance or stopped to pose for pictures and videos.
I’d lost Riley when we funneled inside, and I searched the crowd, laughing when a couple of our defensive linemen lifted her up and put her inside the trophy cup.
That made the team roar louder, and a group of guys picked up the trophy with her in it and paraded her around as she laughed so hard her face turned beet red.
“Alright, alright,” Coach finally said, but his smile was wide, and I knew he was enjoying the revelry as much as we were. “I just need a minute here and then you’re all free to go celebrate.”
That earned a cheer, and reluctantly, the guys set the trophy down, helping Riley crawl out of it.
Her eyes were on me instantly, and she skipped right over, looping her arm through mine and leaning her head on my shoulder.
The guys who hadn’t already seen our very public displays of affection on the field made various remarks of surprise, although most of them teased in a way that told me no one was surprised.
Riley blushed, sinking her face into my jersey before peering up at me.
And I swore my whole fucking heart seized at the sight, making me wonder if the last five hours had been some sort of fever dream that I was bound to wake up from.
When we both turned our attention back to Coach, he was watching us with his brows in his hairline, his eyes dropping to where Riley gripped me and back up to our faces before he shook his head with a knowing smile and addressed the team.
“I don’t have to tell you that I’m proud of you, that you worked hard all season long and even harder tonight to secure this win,” he said. “But I’m going to say it, anyway. I’m proud of you.”
He beamed, holding his head high, and I noticed he still hadn’t changed out of his soaked polo and jacket from having the Gatorade dumped on him after the game.
He was soaking it all up, too.
“North Boston University has been under the radar for far too long. They’ve been sleeping on us since the nineties, thinking that was our only era, that we’ve been washed up ever since. But after tonight?” He grinned. “They won’t be ignoring us anymore.”
The team cheered, our chant breaking out before Coach held out his hands to quiet us once more.
“We showed the nation tonight that we’re here to fight, that we have the power, the potential, the grit to take that National Championship title next season.”
More cheers, some guys beating on the lockers with vigor.
“But let me be the first to tell you — having eyes on you means pressure. It means just as many fans rooting for you to fail as there are wanting you to succeed.”
We all nodded, leaning in, eating up every word as Coach nodded to the Defensive Coordinator, who threw him the game ball.
“Every single one of you deserves this,” he said, holding it up high. “But I think we can all agree on who deserves it most.”
Slowly, one by one, every pair of eyes turned to stare directly at Riley.
She balked, cheeks blushing furiously as she tried to hide behind me, but I pushed her forward.
“I have two sisters, Novo,” Coach said, his eyes right on her. “And a mom I’d go to war for. I know how hard it is to be a young woman, period. But to be the only young woman on a team of young men, to face the pressure and scrutiny that you have, and to have handled it with the poise you did?” He shook his head. “That took real guts. And real grit. And it’s been an honor to be your coach this season.”
Riley’s smile wobbled, her cheeks turning even more red.
“This game ball is yours,” he said, but then he addressed the rest of the team. “And we, team, are a family. I want you to look around right now, at every guy and girl in this room, and remember that. Fight to protect that. Always.”
“If anyone messes with Novo, they’ll have all of us to answer to, Coach, I promise you that!” Leo hollered out, and all the guys roared their agreement, which only made Riley laugh and hide her blushing face again.
Coach smirked, and then tossed the ball back to Clay, who passed it to Holden, who handed it right to Riley as we all clapped.
“I want you to celebrate!” Coach screamed over the noise, and the room went even more wild. “I want you to reap every reward you’ve rightfully earned this season.”
Riley thrust the game ball into the air at that, and Coach watched with an appreciative smile until the room quieted down again.
“And I want you to rest,” he added. “Because in March, we’re right back at it with spring training,” he said, waggling his brows. “Next year, we get cleaner. Next year, we get stronger. Next year, we get better. And next year…” He paused, letting those words hang in the air before he finished with, “We don’t just take a trophy home. We take the trophy home.”
The locker room erupted, and right as Coach hung his hands on his hip with a laugh, he was hoisted up onto two players’ shoulders, the rest of us huddling around and chanting NBU! NBU! NBU!
When they finally dropped his feet back to the floor, Leo blasted music on his speaker, announcing which bar everyone would be going to after showers. He then proceeded to pull out his phone and go live on social media, along with Kyle and a few other guys, too. They danced and kissed the trophy and answered fan questions like they were on top of the world.
And that’s exactly what it felt like.
“Collins, Novo,” Coach Sanders said as he brushed past us. “A word before you go?”
He was stoic as he walked straight into the small office of the locker room they’d assigned us, and though it was bigger than his back at our home stadium, I felt the walls close in as we ducked inside with him and he shut the door behind us.
He didn’t sit, didn’t motion for us to sit, just stood at the door with his arms folded over his chest.
“Well, I guess we’ve kissed and made up — literally, huh?”
Riley flushed, looking at the ground as her damp hair fell in front of her face. I wondered if her skin would be permanently stained that lovely shade of pink after tonight.
“Look, it’s none of my business who my players date as long as it doesn’t interfere with how they play. We don’t have any policies against dating teammates.” He paused. “Likely because none of us have ever considered that a possibility before this season.”
I swallowed, nodding.
“But,” he added. “You know just as well as I do that the media is going to have a frenzy with this, and that there might be some hell coming your way. You, especially, Riley,” he said.
She nodded, meeting his gaze with a somber look for the first time since she’d kicked that winning field goal.
“Your team will have your back,” he said without doubt. “As will I. But I hope your skin is tough, girl, because in this game, no one’s thinking about your feelings or how their words might impact you. Stay off social media if you can. Answer reporter questions carefully. You’ve both had training.”
“Yes, sir,” I said for both of us, and Coach nodded, eyeing where Riley still clutched my arm.
“And don’t break up,” he added, opening the door with a roll of his eyes. “Because I don’t want to have to fucking deal with it.”
Riley and I breathed a laugh at that, and Coach smiled over his shoulder at us before exiting and joining the team in the locker room.
“You heard that, right?” Riley asked, arching a brow as she wrapped her arms around my neck. Mine found their home at her waist, pulling her into me. “You’re not allowed to break up with me.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around that we should be worried about,” I argued, tapping her nose.
She smiled. “Well, the solution is simple.”
“Is it, now?”
She nodded. “Just don’t piss me off.”
I barked out a laugh at that. “No promises there, Mighty Mouse.”
“Fine. Then at least promise you won’t give up on me when I’m a stubborn fool, or when I try to push you away.” She swallowed. “Because I swear right now, in my right mind, that that’s the last thing I ever want.”
I leaned down, pressing my forehead to hers before I swept in and stole a kiss.
“That I can do.”
