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My breath sucked out as I turned to Beau, his gaze sharpening on me.
Behind me, the crowd made a sound that grew and grew, filling my ears, and in a second my smile mirrored Beau’s.
"That’s one, kid. We need a whole lot more to win it,” Beau said quietly, jogging beside me and slapping my backside hard enough to sting. "But I like you. Not enough to take bitch spot though. Let’s see what we can do."
Four goals later, Beau and I started alternating tosses, and Dylan proved his worth at the other end. Jason spent his time fixated on Cliffside’s captain, boxing him in halfway along the field with a little help.
Until right before half time, when one of them decided that he wanted in on the action and lifted his net in a high slung slingshot aimed in the unfortunate direction of my temple.
I blinked and opened my eyes to find Beau leaning over me close enough for a kiss. Reflex–if somewhat sluggish–threw a hand up to shove him out of the way and missed high fiving the air.
"Get the fuck out of my face, man." I shook my head experimentally. Pain lanced down one side of my face, but my vision didn't swim. When I tried to get up, the medic pushed me back. "Don't move for a minute, a son." A bright light shone in my eyes. He peeled back my eyelids.
I flapped at him. "I'm not concussed."
"And I don't wanna get sued by a rich boy’s father." He grinned to take the edge off his words, and I snorted, settling in to let the man do his job, tossing the helmet I clutched to the side.
Finally, I was allowed to climb to my feet, checking the scoreboard.Eighteen to thirty-two.
"If you need to go off, go off. First game isn't everything," Beau said in a low voice, gripping my shoulder hard.
"Are you fucking kidding me? After the comment you made about the brown suit, there's no chance in hell that I'm going off unless I'm dead."
"Better not dead, and able to play for the rest of the season, than screw your chances altogether."
"Find me a gravestone, man. We have a game to finish."
“You’re sure?” Beau stilled, indecision warring on his face.
"I promise I'll leave you my stuffed bear collection if I die,” I said hopefully.
He and Dylan, who edged up beside him, cracked identical grins. "Damn kids. He’s got more balls than half the team. Party at ours tonight."
"I live for it." I winked at Dylan and shook my ass in his direction. “Keep lobbing those balls, my friend.”
Beau strode away, taking up position, muttering under his breath. “Fucking better."
Staring up into the stands behind him, something blue and lurid pink caught my eye. The girl I noticed before when I was in bitch spot bounced around like she was her own version of the cheer squad, her hands raised to cup her mouth, yelling out some warcry I couldn't interpret at this distance. Dark brown waves bounded along with her movements, her breasts easily a double handful encased in a tight tee above an impossibly tiny waist gave her the most exaggerated hourglass figure I’d ever seen.
Someone called my name, and I jogged slightly to my spot as she pointed at the field, her face tense with worry. Because I was bleeding? Because I forgot to put my bucket on, and the hair was sticking out all over the place? I had never been particularly worried about my hair, being my small town highschool’s golden boy on the lacrosse team. Maybe being self-conscious was in my future.
She pointed again, and I turned my head, staring into that God awful sun Beau warned me about. A flicker of movement drew my attention, and I raised my net in slow motion. The weight of the ball crashed into it, and then I was running, passing and darting around Cliffside’s defence that decided to grow balls at the last minute, playing it off with Beau until the ball left my net, and we scored.
Again. And again. And again.
By the time the buzzer echoed across the field at the end of the game, the score read twelve points in Rippton’s favour, and the lacrosse team won a game against the reigning champions for the first time in eight years.
I found myself staring up at the sky as I was hoisted high, braced on the shoulders of teammates cheering my name and Beau’s. I motioned for Dylan to join us, but he shook his head, herding away the cheer boys, who offered their muscly arms out to him.
“I’ll keep my feet and ass near the ground. This duck don’t like the air,” he called, waddling off and quacking at a cheerleader, who looked startled when he pecked at her cheek.
I snorted, slapping Beau’s proffered high five and let the celebratory chants roll through me. Out of the corner of my eye I caught that flash of pink and blue again. Struggling against too many hands holding me up, I wiggled my way back to ground level Dylan-style, and aimed toward the pretty girl I spotted before who stopped me from crowing myself again.
Just as I fixed my gaze on her double handful of a tight tush, a hand planted itself in the middle of my chest.
“Whoa, big boy. You need to come talk to some people. Chase skirt later, huh?” Beau eyed me, jerking his head to one side.
“But–” I stretched out a hand. She was already out of sight, obscured by several hundred bodies cramming between the gates, headed for the busses home. I let my hand drop. “Yeah, what’s up?”
