"You gonna be okay out there?" Nathan asked me.
I shrugged, staring out over the lacrosse field. I watched as a bunch of guys wearing Panthers jerseys ran around, practicing drills and warming up. I felt my throat growing tight when my eyes landed on the familiar movements of one player in particular.
I quickly turned away and put on my gloves. "I don't know."
"Don't let him get inside your head. You've worked hard for this and he doesn't deserve you."
"It's not about that," I said. I was trying to decide if I regretted my intimate conversation with the guys a few days ago about everything that had happened between Dante and me in the last year. "I just haven't talked to him since everything came out. I don't know what's going on with him."
"Well he's not your boyfriend, so you don't have to care."
"I wish I didn't care," I mumbled. "But I can't help it. He was drunk that night, and I'm sure he didn't actually want things to go down the way they did. I know he wasn't ready; it's why we didn't work out."
Nathan clapped me on the back. "Talk to him after the game or something then, if you have to. But right now, get in the zone, because we need to fucking win this!"
I swallowed and nodded, wishing I could be as enthusiastic as he was. I bent down and picked up my lacrosse stick and said, "Let's run passes."
As we stepped onto the field, Dakota and Greyson jogged passed us. Greyson nodded his head at me and said, "You better not fuck this up, Sinclair."
Nathan smacked my arm, "Don't listen to him."
"Whatever," I said, pulling a ball out of my pocket and dropping it to the grass only to scoop it back up, cradling it. Nathan jogged away from me, halfway twisting to face me as he moved and I tossed the ball to him, relieved when it went exactly where I'd meant it to go and he caught it with ease.
Two hours later, I was standing in front of Coach Blackwell and panting for air. I tore my helmet off and wiped the sweat off of my face with a towel the team manager had tossed to me.
Coach was yelling at us to get our asses in gear as I gulped down some water. We were using our final timeout and there were only fifty seconds left in the game. So far, I had been thanking all the gods that ever existed that no one had said shit to me or Dante about our past relationship.
Instead, I'd been running my ass off all over the damn field, trying to anticipate everyone's moves. I was a midfielder, so I always had to have my eyes open to figure out what needed done. Usually I was good at it--I mean, I was the captain of the team for a reason--but today was as tough as it always was when we played Dante's team.
Dante was an attacker and he was fucking fast, faster than me even though I hated to admit it, and time and time again throughout the game I was struggling to keep up with him and intercept the passes his teammates threw to him. I'd failed a decent chunk of my attempts to do so and by halftime coach had assigned Greyson the task of staying on Dante's back, which I was all too glad for. He was faster than I was too.
Now, we were almost done with the game and Coach was freaking out on us. I knew he wanted us to win this one just as much as we did, but I honestly didn't see how that was possible. The panthers had always been a more skilled team than us no matter how hard we tried or how much practice we put in. And today, that was proving to be true again as we were a point behind them and the clock was so close to running down to nothing.
"Sinclair, I want you and Giraud both on Williams, give him hell, you hear me?"
I nodded and the ref blew the whistle. I put my helmet back on and ran back out onto the field. Greyson and I positioned ourselves so Dante would be in between us.
The game picked back up again and it didn't take long before Russ was hauling the ball towards Dante. I desperately tried to head the pass off but failed as Dante leaped into the air and caught it. I chased after him, my lungs feeling as though they were going to explode. As Dante neared the goal, I was relieved that Greyson came up and checked him so hard that he dropped the ball.
Dakota, who played defense, swooped in and scooped up the ball before running off to toss it down the field, out of Dante's reach.
I heard Dante and Greyson swearing at each other, but I didn't pay it much mind as I took off as well. I switched to the other side of the field and shadowed my teammates, looking out to see if they needed attack backup.
Suddenly, London launched the ball straight passed the Panthers' goalie and into the net. Everyone cheered and the ref called it a goal. We ran back to our respective positions and waited for what was probably going to be the last face off of the game. My heart was racing anxiously as I glanced at the clock. Twenty-four seconds remained. I cursed under my breath because even though we were tied, there was no way we could get another goal in that time. Dante's team on the other hand were known for their last minute goals.
We just had to keep them from making it long enough to go into the sudden death overtime. Then we at least had one more shot at winning.
I felt my stomach drop when the face off ended in Russ having possession of the ball instead of Anthony. I instantly ran towards Dante, knowing without a doubt that was where his friend was going to send it.
I was proven right a second later when it left Russ' net and began sailing in the air towards us. I ran as fast as I could but there was too much distance between us and Dante caught the ball easily. I frantically looked for Greyson but saw him blocked off by two of Dante's teammates that he couldn't get past. I swore and tried to run faster but to no avail.
One of our other defenders lurched forward to try and cut Dante's shot off, but he failed, their sticks colliding just after the ball flew out of Dante's stick and struck the far left of our goal's net. Our goalie had missed it by the tiniest hair's breadth as the final buzzer sounded.
I stood there, breathless and panting as Dante screamed out in victory. His team surrounded him in less than a second and I saw Greyson ripping his helmet off and furiously throwing it to the ground.
"That was bullshit," Greyson said to me as he came up to my side. I felt absolutely defeated as my shoulders slumped and I stared after Dante who was currently cheering with his teammates. That should have been us. "I fucking hate that guy so much."
I turned away and walked towards the sidelines. Coach Blackwell was livid, yelling at the ref, but there was nothing that could be done. I collapsed down onto the bench, dropping my stick at my feet. I pulled my gloves off and tossed them to the ground before I took my helmet off and unceremoniously let it clatter on top of the pile.
As I dropped my face down into my hands, someone came up next to me and sat down. I knew it was Dakota without needing to look or hear his voice, but he said, "It's not your fault."
I felt his hand on my back briefly before I felt the bench creak and he was gone again.
****************
Another two hours later I was at a party that was packed full of students and lacrosse players, and I was hellbent on getting as drunk as I possibly could.
Corian poured me another shot of vodka and I downed it, no longer feeling the burn as I swallowed it. She laughed louder than she should have and took her own shot.
"You've had way too much to drink," I told her as she tripped over her own foot on her way to hug me.
"So have you," she yelled over the music.
We were standing in the living room of someone's house--I couldn't remember whose it was at that point--and I was at least five shots and three cocktails in. I was swaying on my feet, but it just felt like dancing to me, so I pulled Corian in close and began trying to belt out the lyrics to whatever song was playing. I couldn't recognize it but I didn't let that stop me.
"Alright, that's enough," Andrew said, swooping in and plucking Corian out of my arms. "Someone's past their limit and needs to go home."
I pouted and tried to steal my friend back. Corian just giggled and buried her face into Andrew's neck. "I knew I never should have let you guys become a thing," I said.
Andrew rolled his eyes and tried to push me away from him and his girlfriend. His eyes locked on someone behind me and he said, "Yo, Spicer! Come wrangle Harley in for me."
A moment later, Dakota was standing next to us and I turned a huge smile onto him. I swayed, feeling dizzy as I got lost in his eyes. I could tell by the way his eyebrows knitted together that he was concerned.
"How much did you let him drink?" Dakota asked, steadying me with a hand on my shoulder.
Andrew shook his head. "I'm not his babysitter. I don't know how much he drank but he's fucking wasted."
"You're a waste," I shot back at my friend. I reached for Corian again and she held out a hand. We clasped them, but Andrew began to pull her away. I felt Dakota wrap an arm around my waist to keep us apart. "No! My love, don't go!"
Corian's hand slipped out of mine and she let herself dramatically go limp against Andrew who looked irritated as fuck by our antics. "You guys are ridiculous."
As Andrew led them away, I turned to Dakota and pouted up at him. I slouched against his chest. "You're no fun."
"You drank too much," he said. I barely caught his whisper of, "And I thought I had a problem," under his breath.
"I didn't drink too much," I protested. I was probably slurring, but I was too drunk to care. My body felt warm where it was pressed against Dakota's. "Hey, I know what we should do," I yelled over the music as desire flared in me. "Go to your house and f--"
"Okay, stop!" Dakota yelled, placing a hand over my mouth. His eyes were wide as he glanced around. I wondered if he was looking to see if anyone heard. For some reason that threw me into a fit of laughter even though I knew it wasn't funny. He tightened his arms around me and began trying to drag me through the house.
We had only just made it to the foyer when the front door swung open and a painfully familiar set of navy eyes locked onto me. I went completely limp in Dakota's arms and he just barely managed to keep me from falling face first onto the tile beneath our feet.
My head began spinning faster than ever as Dante edged closer to us with Russ at his side. Russ was watching us carefully as if he were ready to step in at any moment if he needed to.
Dante smiled at me--actually fucking smiled--and I instantly threw up all over the floor at my feet.
Girls screamed and jumped out of the way as my vomit hit the tile. I watched Dante and Russ' feet back away as I emptied my stomach. Dakota let me sink to the floor, but made sure I wasn't landing in my pile of sickness. He rubbed my back comfortingly with a soothing hand as I finished retching until there was nothing left to come up.
"It's okay, Harley," Dakota whispered into my ear. "Let's just get you out of here."
I nodded, wiping my mouth on the sleeve of my shirt, feeling tears spring to my eyes from the force of vomiting. I hated being sick. Miserably, and without thinking about anything else besides the beautiful sight of his bright eyes and dark stubble, I muttered, "Thanks, babe."
"Wait, what the fuck did you just call him?"
The color drained from my face as I met Dante's glare with my blank stare. Dakota gripped my shoulders tighter, almost possessively.
"Oh fuck," I muttered to myself, but I was pretty certain I'd voiced all of our thoughts.