Chapter 50
Gage
“Welcome back,” Coach said, standing tall in front of us, arms crossed over his chest, feet planted a little wider than shoulder–width apart. “This is going to be a tough f*****g year,” he added, scanning each one of us, his gaze sharp and deliberate. “But we’re gonna make this
year count. This is the last year before Simmons, Cortez, and Blackwell leave us, and we’re
gonna make sure they can continue being a proud part of our Timberwolves.”
My hands were clasped tightly behind my back, and I forced my eyes straight ahead, though
my attention kept drifting to the girls perched on the tribunes. They were eager, practically
buzzing, here to watch our training. And of course, my mind latched onto one person in particular–I wanted Bree there. I wanted her sitting up there, just watching me, just existing in the same space as me. Hell, she could have her nose buried in a book, completely
oblivious to the chaos around her, and I’d still feel like the luckiest fucker alive, just because
she was there.
But my girl wasn’t ready yet. She wasn’t ready to admit she could be with me, to see that we
could work, that we could make it.
I was sure. I was so f*****g sure that Bree Morgan was the one for me, that we could have it
all if she just let me in. If she gave me a shot, even a small one, we could build something
real, something lasting. Not just happiness confined to camp or the fleeting moments we
stole from each other–but a life filled with endless days together.
My mind wandered, and I couldn’t stop picturing it. Coming home after being trapped in away games, exhausted but alive with the thought of her. She’d be there, moving through our house barefoot, humming softly to herself, probably lounging in one of my oversized shirts, her hair pulled loosely into a messy bun. The moment she saw me, she’d come running, leaping into my arms, kissing me senseless like we’d never be apart. I’d cook her dinner, treating her like the goddess she was, and she would let me. Let me spoil her completely, utterly, the way she
deserved.
“We’re gonna start this year off strong, fighting against those goddamn Gorillas from the south,” Coach Hendrix’s voice cut through my daydream, dragging me back to the present. ” But before we dive into that, we’re gonna work our asses off, get you lazy fuckers back into
perfect shape.”
“Yes, Coach!” the guys yelled, their energy filling the gym and making him grin in approval.
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Then his eyes flicked toward me, a glint of something almost teasing in them. “You got
something to say to your team, Captain?”
I had earned my spot. Freshman year, I’d poured every ounce of sweat, every ounce of determination into getting his approval. I had worked harder than anyone else on the team,
and I knew I deserved this. Last year, right after summer break, he pulled me aside and told
me the team needed a new captain, since Lawrence had graduated. And he thought I should
be that person. Within two days, I was running for captain–and I had won unanimously.
“Of course, Coach,” I said, nodding with confidence, feeling the weight of the role settle on my
shoulders. This was my team, my year, and I wasn’t about to let anyone forget it.
I stepped forward, moving up beside him, my eyes scanning the team. They were buzzing
with excitement, practically vibrating with eagerness to make this year count. Last year, we
had scraped by, winning the championship by the thinnest of margins, barely edging out the competition. But this year, I wasn’t aiming for a close call–I wanted a landslide. I wanted to
dominate the field and, more than anything, impress Bree, show her exactly what she had been missing, prove that giving me a shot could be the best decision of her life.
“Last year was amazing,” I said, projecting my voice across the team, loud and steady,
carrying the weight of pride and determination. “We brought home the championship for the first time in eight years.”
The guys erupted, hollering, slapping each other on the back, joking and laughing as only a
team that had fought together could. I couldn’t help but grin at the sight of them, at the
effortless way they moved as one, at the bonds we’d forged that went beyond the field.
“And we’re gonna do it again this year,” I declared, catching a chorus of “hell yes” in response. “But most importantly, we’re gonna have fun while we’re doing it.‘
Coach Hendrix nearly choked on his own breath, looking at me as if I had sprouted another head overnight.
“This is my last year here,” I continued, locking eyes with each of them, letting the words
settle in. “I’m a proud f*****g Timberwolf, and I will always be a proud one. But what would
make me happiest, what would make this year even sweeter, is if we could bottle up the thrill
we feel every time we score a touchdown, every time Cortez throws someone down, every
time Mitch delivers a perfect f*****g pass. I want us out there buzzing, alive with the energy we all know we carry inside,”
Miguel shot me a grin and a nod, silent approval passing between us.
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“Because when we carry each other, when we celebrate each other, we play better, we play differently. I’m done playing it safe. I’m done being just aggressive–I want us out there because we love this sport, because we f*****g live it.”
“f**k, yeah!” Kenneth roared, pumping his hand high into the air.
“I want us out there because winning this together makes it taste so much f*****g sweeter-”
“Go Cap!” Simon called, a grin spreading across his face as wide as mine.
“And we’re gonna bag this championship, and we’re gonna do it together! We’re gonna be a
f*****g team, the best goddamn team anyone has ever seen. And we’re gonna have a f*****g blast while doing it!”
“Go Timberwolves!” Miguel yelled, the rest of the team joining in, their cheers bouncing off the walls of the gym as they riled each other up, feeding off the energy like fuel to a fire.
“You almost gave me a f*****g heart attack, Simmons,” Coach said, his rough, calloused hand landing firmly on my shoulder. “But f**k if you aren’t the best captain.”
I laughed, a rush of adrenaline mixing with pride, feeling light, feeling alive. The heat of the
room, the roar of my teammates, the weight of the moment–it all hit me at once. I could
breathe a little easier now, at least for a second.
“Now go on, you sorry sack of human flesh! Get f*****g running!” he bellowed, his voice
cutting through the noise.
And we did.
**
“I swear to God above,” Kenneth said, stepping in front of me with his tray, his tone dead
serious, “if I don’t get laid soon, my d**k is gonna fall off.”
Miguel laughed in front of us, and I couldn’t help but snort, shaking my head at how ridiculous they were being.
“Seriously,” Kenneth continued, grabbing a bowl of salad, “I swear I’m almost forgetting how
to do it.”
“Kenneth Blackwell,” Miguel said, his hand flowing above Kenneth like he was presenting a flag, “born–again virgin, ladies and gentlemen.”
I piled on as well, shoving food onto my own tray, though part of me wished I could just cook
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for myself instead. But Bree was here, and if she was here, then so was I. I needed sustenance, needed it fast, because Coach had plowed us through training so mercilessly that I was sweating in places I didn’t even know could sweat. Still, it felt good–it made me feel alive, made me feel unstoppable, and I knew exactly where to channel all that energy.
“Should be your new pickup line,” I said, nodding as I loaded my plate with chicken and mashed potatoes. “Twenty–two–year–old virgin, willing to do anything.”
“I am willing to do anything,” Kenneth said, nodding with a grin, bold as ever. “I don’t care if I have to lick p***y for two straight days, as long as I eventually get in there.”
Miguel laughed, shaking his head as he started walking toward the table. “They can smell your desperation, dipshit. It’s not gonna make it any easier for you.”
We followed him, splitting off to sit at the table with the four girls, each of us finding our
place. Kenneth leaned in toward Bree, smirking. “Some girls love desperation, don’t they, Bree?” he teased, eyes flicking to her as she looked back up at him, wide–eyed and clearly
caught off guard.
“I swear, they do not,” Miguel chuckled, setting down his tray as we all sat down.
I slid into the seat right next to her, feeling the brush of her arm against mine. I wanted this to
feel effortless, seamless–I didn’t want to make her anxious or uncomfortable any more than
she probably already was.
“Nah, you’re probably right,” Kenneth huffed, poking at the food on his plate. “What about begging? I’m not opposed to begging.”
“Beg for p***y?” Miguel laughed again, and Kenneth grinned wider, unabashed and ridiculous
as always.
“What the f**k is going on?” a girl demanded from across the table–the same one who had pulled Bree away from me earlier, her gaze sharp and incredulous as if we’d just descended
from another planet.
“I don’t know,” another girl said, her brown eyes lighting up as they locked on Kenneth. “But I don’t mind the eye candy.”
Kenneth’s grin spread even wider, shameless as ever. “You can look all you want, baby,” he said, flexing his bicep like a show–off. “Wanna touch too?”
I rolled my eyes, shaking my head at his nonsense, and instead turned my attention fully to the amazing girl sitting right next to me. My heart rate picked up a little, and I couldn’t help
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but let a small smile spread across my face.
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“Hey, gorgeous,” I said, leaning just slightly toward her, keeping it light but intimate. “How has your day been?”
She looked incredible–utterly, knock–me–to–my–knees amazing. Her loosely fitted tee stopped just below her waist, the fabric soft and relaxed, while her jean shorts clung to her thighs in all the right ways, leaving little to the imagination. But it wasn’t the outfit that had me hooked
-her eyes were what really caught me. There was something different about them, a new
shine, a glint of mischief I hadn’t noticed before. I recognized makeup when I saw it, and
though I didn’t think Bree needed it, I couldn’t deny it looked stunning on her.
“I like the new look,” I said, reaching up, catching a stray lock of hair and tucking it behind her
ear. The faint blush that crept across her cheeks made my chest tighten.
“What are you doing, Gage?” she asked, her voice soft, searching my face even as the warmth of my touch made her neck flush pink.
“I’m eating dinner,” I said, nodding toward my tray with exaggerated casualness. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Gage,” she sighed, glancing down at her plate instead of meeting my eyes.
“We can leave, Bree,” the girl next to her said, leaning across the table. “If you don’t wanna sit
next to him, it’s not a problem.”
“Who called out for your opinion?” Miguel asked, raising an eyebrow with a sly grin. “I’m
pretty sure Bree and Gage can handle their own conversation.”
“And I’m pretty sure stalking is a criminal offense,” the girl shot back, narrowing her eyes at
Miguel.
Miguel grinned, undeterred. “Got quite a bark, loca. Any pressure behind that bite?”
“It’s okay, Riley,” Bree muttered, turning her attention back to her tray, deciding to ignore me
for now.
Riley, the girl Bree had apparently been talking about, studied Miguel with her brow furrowed
and jaw set, clearly trying to gauge how far she could push him.
One of the other girls leaned over to Bree, eyes flicking between us and Bree herself. “These
are the guys, or?”
“Jesus, Em,” Riley groaned, rolling her eyes. “Could you be any less subtle?”
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Bree bit down on her lip, staring at her food like she could will herself out of existence. My
chest tightened, because I wasn’t about to let my girl shrink like that–not while I was sitting
right here. I did what I always did best: I made sure she felt safe, wanted, and comfortable.
“Maybe if you wanna get attention, you could focus on your game,” I said to Kenneth, leaning
back in my chair and resting my arm casually along the back of Bree’s seat. “Perhaps if you
actually played instead of goofing off, someone might be willing to help you graduate from
born–again virgin status.”
Miguel threw his head back and laughed, the sound rumbling across the dining hall like a
drumbeat. Kenneth’s grin widened, a retort already forming in his mind.
“It’s true, though,” Bree said suddenly, her voice quiet but commanding enough to pull all eyes toward her. “Nobody wants to bang a guy who can’t even focus on a game.”
I couldn’t help myself–I laughed, low and indulgent, at her bluntness, at the way she couldn’t resist getting involved. She was fiery, sharp, and untouchably beautiful, and every word she spoke reminded me why she would be mine again. Soon.
Emilia M
The next one will be up soon! And don’t forget to join the f*cebook group, Emilia M writes
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