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With ten minutes to go, Ash bounces off Logan and with a bold kick, Ash shoots the winning goal. I jump up at the same time as Poppy, screaming at the television in excitement.
The crowd goes wild, the cameras zooming in on Ash as he falls to the ground elated. The coaches are jumping inside the commentary booths. The only people not celebrating are Manchester. This is a decider game and now they won’t make it to the quarter-finals.
Even Cliff’s happy—a rare moment of him cheering them on behind the cameras.
“Oh my gosh, Em, your brother is amazing,” Kelly squeals. “You must be so proud of him.”
“I am,” I beam. “I’m so happy they won.”
“And Logan fucking killed it,” Kyle says in awe.
I don’t know what to say. Logan killed it because Logan always kills it. That’s who he is and I can’t exactly say he killed it because he has the biggest blue balls ever.
“Just like Ash, that’s why they’re best friends.”
The game ends with the final score two-one. The Royal Kings make it to the quarter-finals. The on-field camera chases Logan down, interviewing him while he tries to catch his breath.
Through the screen, I stare at how amazingly beautiful this man is. His whole face is grinning, eyes bright with not a hint of exhaustion. He brings the water bottle to his lips and it’s a perfect opportunity for me to study them and remember how soft they feel against my skin.
The sports journalist holds the mic up to him. “How did it feel to score that first goal?”
“Amazing,” Logan strains, barely able to talk. “It was a tough game and they played well. Ash just cemented that final win.”
“The two of you are unstoppable. Would you say that your friendship helps you play as a team?”
“He’s my brother… it’s more than just friendship.”
“How are you going to celebrate this win?”
He drops his head, hiding the devilish smirk playing on his lips while running his hands through his hair. “With something big.”
I hide the smile that tells the world celebrating this win means I get fucked harder than I’ve ever been fucked before. I should be scared, but down below, the excitement stirs at the unknown.
Wesley sits on the couch with his chin held high refusing to comment. His legs are restless, bouncing up and down, his expression tight with a reddened face.
“Is it time to go, yet?” He removes his cell from his pocket, distracting himself much to Cliff’s disapproval.
“And that’s a cut,” Cliff shouts, switching positions and pointing to Wes. “Wesley, outside. Now.”
We head into the dining room to finish off with dinner. I tell Poppy I need to use the bathroom but walk past the front door to find out why Cliff wanted to speak to Wes alone.
“I don’t care what fucking chip you have on your shoulder, Rich. Get over it and fucking look like you love the girl,” Cliff berates.
“I do love her,” Wes answers softly. “I just can’t seem to fix things. I don’t want to lose her.”
There’s a short silence. “Then keep ya dick in ya pants. Why the fuck were you out with Farrah last night? That club was full. People would have seen you.”
“Nothing happened. We danced. She wanted to go back to the hotel to suck me off. I said no. I don’t want to lose Emerson.”
I didn’t expect my heart to race this fast—the guilt and shame weighing me down. I walk away not wanting to hear the rest of the conversation because it only makes everything worse. Perhaps I’m a monster. Two wrongs certainly don’t make a right, but the thought of giving up Logan is something which hurts me more. And that alone terrifies me.
We finish at Poppy’s with a lovely dinner her mother prepared for all of us.
By the time we hit the road, it’s late and most of us are exhausted from a long day of filming.
Kyle and Kelly call it a night. Harley wants to go out and Wesley decides to join him. They ask me to go, but I kindly refuse hoping Logan will call.
“Why won’t you come out with us?” Wesley stands solid, folding his arms with an arrogant stare. “You have somewhere better to be?”
