JamesÂ
Tackling the ball between my feet, opposition hot on my heels, friction going against me and everything but my will to win and team mates screaming profanities holding me back.
And one last kick, one last second… we won.
I could see the losing team’s captain, Max Milten trying hard, yet failing harder at concealing his defeat.
Our taunting enemy-ship was a little-known secret, heavily concealed on the field, but this time I took the chance, sending my charming smirk and a wink in his direction, and watched him struggle not to run across the field and punch me. What he didn’t know, was that was the fun part. Not thinking I was better than him, not trying to pick a fight, not a way to hide my insecurity, not that he pissed me off. No. The fun part, the reason I challenged him in any way I could, was to see that look of pure hatred and annoyance written on his pretty face…And I thoroughly enjoyed seeing him all hot and bothered about me.
We had never had an actual conversation, but ever since that first game against him, it was set in stone.
We were enemies.
After practice, both teams headed to the change rooms to shower. My mates ruffled my hair, and clapped for me, for us. I smiled, returning the energy. I mean, we’d won the whole season!
What I did not expect was to emerge from a well-earned steamy shower to meet face to face with Milten himself, also only in a towel…and to find myself drinking him in.
I dragged my gaze up his face, lips, nose then cold green eyes, and shamelessly back down again, lingering on his lips and torso.
“Kendrick? James Kendrick. Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” I replied to him, continuing to let my eyes wander.
“Whatever. We need to talk. Get changed.”
“You have a nice voice. Demanding, but nice.” I pushed past him, purposefully letting my shoulder graze his.
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