Chapter 82 Chapter Eighty Three

Chapter 82 Chapter Eighty Three
The bleachers shook with every cheer as the crowd roared. I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees and my heart racing faster than it should for a simple friendly match. 
I spotted him right away—number 7 in the white jersey that clung to his shoulders and back, already damp with sweat from the warm-up. Even from the stands, he looked focused, athletic, and ridiculously attractive. 
Mine. I thought to myself with pride. 
His hair was messier than usual from running, strands falling across his forehead. Every time he sprinted or planted his feet to control the ball, the muscles in his legs and arms stood out in a way that made my stomach flutter. 
Stop it, Grace. You’re in public. 
My eyes refused to obey. And he made it harder for me to focus beforehand, too, because I was currently wearing a jersey that had his name boldly written on the back and encrusted with jewels that blinded the person behind me. 
To be fair, the bling was Seraphine’s idea. 
She thought it was plain looking and convinced me to give it to her overnight, because she was going to do the same to hers. 
She had Jackson’s name at the front of hers, boldly written over her—ahem, chest—and his number behind. Between us, we had a banner for Nicholas. He was our friend, after all. 
“He’s really good,” Sophie said beside me, nudging my shoulder with a small, knowing smile. 
Seraphine, on my other side, cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, “Let’s go, Jackson! Come on, Hunter! Show them what Beacon’s got! Take them down!”
“Ahem,” I cleared my throat loudly, sensing her enthusiasm was getting out of hand. “It’s a friendly match.”
She turned to me, hands planted on her hips. “All the more reason why they have to crush them. Because it won’t be friendly the next time they play and we need them to be scared. It’s psychological warfare, my friend.”
Well…she did have a point. 
I joined in when she shouted again, my voice as loud as it could go. “Come on, Jace!”
He glanced up toward the bleachers mid-play, and our eyes met for a brief, electric second. A subtle half-smile flashed across his face, and he gave a small nod before receiving the ball and threading a perfect pass down the wing. 
The crowd erupted.
“Yes!” I jumped up with Sera and Sophie, clapping wildly. 
We sat back down, but we weren’t sitting for too long. Jackson scored, and we were on our feet again, cheering and clapping. When Nicholas made an excellent pass, the three of us were the loudest in the bleachers.  
Anyone who stumbled in and had no idea would’ve assumed we were benched cheerleaders instead of really enthusiastic girlfriends. Well, two girlfriends and a potential relationship-thingy. 
Yup. 
Nicholas and Sophie hit it off at the beach days ago. After the boys came over, we decided to stay out longer. Then we all piled into two cars—Seraphine’s and Jackson’s truck—and headed to the arcade. 
And I might’ve noticed that he was trying to show off to her. 
Which made me happy for him.  
Seraphine bumped my arm. “You know you automatically have to attend the after-party, right?”
I frowned lightly, my mouth tilting to the side. “After party?”
“Yup. It’s a thing where the players of both teams get stupidly drunk—which is totally against the rules—and act like wild, horny teenagers, hooking up with everyone in sight. It’s like a free-for-all.” The panic I tried to hide must’ve been glaring on my face, because she burst out laughing the next moment. 
“Relax,” she said. “I’m joking. It’s pretty tame, actually. And the coaches are usually present as chaperones because it’s outside the school. The winning team gets to pick the venue.”
“How do you know so much about it?” I asked. Last time I remembered, she only recently started dating Jackson. Sure, they fooled around nonstop…
“Jackson,” she simply said, as if it explained everything. 
I didn’t have time to ask how she handled being with him in public when they weren’t dating; she lowkey hated his guts—even though it was hate-hate—
Because the crowd erupted in cheers. 
Another goal from Nicholas. 
We were taking the lead by enough goals. 

The second half was tighter. The opposing team pressed high, but the players for Beacon High were everywhere—winning balls, distributing play, and covering ground like it was nothing. With five minutes left, the score was tied. 
Seraphine slumped down next to me at the equalizing goal. “Crap,” she said. “Did I fuck up?”
I turned to her, absolutely confused. “Washed?”
“Yup,” she sighed. “It’s a superstitious thing Jackson has. He doesn’t wash his jersey until the day before. It’s to make his play clean.” She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. He’s the one who thinks it’s worked for him so far. He told me I had to do the same, because I was wearing a jersey with his name…”
She trailed off as her head hung low. 
“But you didn’t listen because you thought it was silly.” I finished for her. 
“Nope.” She shook her head. “I had to wash it before I could glue the stones on. That’s why.” She facepalmed. “I might’ve brought bad luck on the entire team.”
I patted her back. “I doubt it. They still have some time.”
I looked at the timer. 
Three minutes. 
My palms were sweaty, and my pulse was racing ahead of the seconds that were ticking down. I sat up sharply when Jace took the ball in midfield, beat his marker with a sharp turn, and drove forward. He lined up a shot from outside the box. The defender lunged in at the last second, catching Jace’s ankle. 
He hit the turf hard. 
A gasp rushed out of me. 
“He’s okay,” Sera said quickly, squeezing my arm. “Look—he’s getting up.”
Jace rose, limping slightly before shaking it off. 
“He’s fine,” Sophie assured me. I nodded, but I couldn’t help but think that maybe Seraphine was right about jinxing things, except it had somehow found Jace.  
I watched, raptly, my heart in my mouth as the seconds got closer to the last minute. 
And then…in the final moments, Jace won the ball back, played a quick one-two with Nicholas, and unleashed a powerful strike toward the far post. The keeper got a hand to it, but the ball spun into the net.
The whistle blew. 
Beacon High won 5-4. 
The stands went wild. I was on my feet instantly, screaming Jace’s name along with Sera and Sophie. On the pitch, his teammates swarmed him in celebration. He laughed as he raked his fingers through his hair, and his eyes found me. 
Straight to me.  
My pulse raced as I smiled, and this time, it was in a good way. 
Later, as the crowd thinned, I waited near the exit with Sera and Sophie. Jace, Nicholas, and Jackson emerged from the sideline area. 
I had eyes for only one person, and I walked over to meet him, leaving the others behind. His hair was damp, and a duffel bag was over one shoulder; his jersey was now slung around his neck. 
I stopped in front of him. “You said you weren’t going to show up,” he teased me.  
“Of course I did.” I rolled my eyes. “I wasn’t going to miss you—how did you say it, “taking down some losers?’ Although,” I folded my arms and tilted my head, “you came really close to not beating time.”
Jace shrugged as he grinned, shamelessly proud. “A win is a win, Thompson.” 
I glanced at his ankle. “Are you okay? I saw what happened.”
“Eh,” his shoulders rose. “It should get better in a few days. But first—” he limped closer, a smirk curling his mouth as his gaze raked over my body appreciatively. “You look really pretty, Grace Thompson. I’m tempted to kiss you right here, but there are reporters around taking pictures, so I don’t know…”
I spotted one over his shoulder, the camera aimed our way. It might’ve been a friendly, but any chance at good publicity was something Beacon High didn’t take for granted. 
Or Sharpman, to be precise. 
He needed something to keep the parents who wrote the checks happy. 
“Later?” I murmured. “I heard there’s an afterparty.”
“Oh.” He snapped his fingers. “That. I completely forgot about it. You want to go?” His brows dipped low. “It’s pretty boring. We could ditch them. I have plans—” his arm slid around my waist for a second before he remembered that we were being watched and withdrew. 
But it didn’t diminish the heat in his gaze. “I could think of better ways to spend the night.”
“Oh?” I wriggled my brows, playing along. “Like what?”
“Mm…” he murmured. “Remember that night? When we played truth or dare?”
The memory rushed through me with a flood of heat and a nice sizzle down my spine. I nodded, the tip of my tongue touching my bottom lip. I could definitely skip the party for that.
“Well, instead of that, I could help you finalize your ideas for the Christmas party.”
Huh? 
I blinked a few times before catching the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. My gaze narrowed as I looked down, but he backed out of the danger zone immediately, holding his hands up. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry. If you kick me there, I might cry real tears.”
I shrugged. “Maybe I want to see you cry.”
“You’ll get your wish if you dump me right here and now,” he said. “I’ll fall on my knees and sob all night long, until the grass grows around my body and buries me.” 
I couldn’t imagine doing that. 
I made a face. “That’s extreme.”
He placed a hand on his chest. “My heart is very fragile, Grace Thompson.”
“Do we need to give you two the entire field?” Sera called out. “We’re going to miss the party at this rate, and the four of us are more than happy to go without you two.”
“Do you wanna go?” Jace asked me. 
I nodded. “Yup.”
“Alright then.” 
He took my hand, slipping his fingers between mine. “We’ll catch up,” he said, dragging me past the group. 
“You better not make her late or show up in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, Hunter!” Seraphine shouted after us. And if her warning wasn’t clear enough, she added, “Or I’ll skin you alive.”
“Where are we going?” I asked him. “You need to change, right?” 
He didn’t stop until we were well out of the field and the bleachers. And even then, he pulled me a little further away from the students walking around, from the players that hadn’t left, to a hidden spot behind a car. 
And then he kissed me before I could catch my breath. His fingers threaded through my hair as his warm palms cradled my face and his lips coaxed mine open. 
My bag dropped to the floor…and his had dropped sometime before his lips met mine. He tilted his head, slipping one arm around my waist and pulling me flush against his body. “I missed you,” he whispered, mid-kiss. “It sounds crazy, but you were on my mind the entire time I was playing.”
“So, you were showing off?” I teased. 
He nipped my bottom lip, and I melted. Completely. Like gooey marshmallows over a campfire. “Maybe?” He grinned against my mouth. “You liked it, though, didn’t you?”
I lifted a shoulder and set it down. “Maybe?”
He pulled back, his brows arching, “Maybe? I almost lost a foot out there, Thompson.”
“It was your ankle,” I corrected, struggling to hold back from laughing when he acted hurt. “And you said you were fine.”
“I didn’t want you worrying about me.”
“And now’s the right time for me to worry about you?”
He thought about it for a moment, before answering with another kiss that wiped every thought about his bruised ankle from my mind.