The End Zone (Atlanta Lightning 2)

All my discomfort disappeared completely at kickoff. The Lightning were on their game from the start. Their first play down the field resulted in a touchdown. The defense stopped Minnesota on their next possession.

All night Darren had an eagle eye, spotting his receivers and delivering perfect passes. A few plays later, Anson protected with the block, giving Darren the space and time to shuffle his feet, draw his arm back, and shoot a bullet pass to Martins for a first down.

My pulse skyrocketed. My heart was in my throat the whole game. I’d always loved football, and my passion had grown even more since becoming close with Anson, but somehow this felt different, even more exhilarating.

I didn’t know if I breathed until the game was over and the Lightning had won, 21–0.

I jumped, pumping my fists in the air. It felt like my own damn win for some reason. I was surrounded by fans from the other team, but I didn’t care. My friends had just won their first game of the regular season, and I was fucking stoked.

They celebrated briefly before one of the commentators pulled Darren aside. He was sweaty and dirty, wearing that damn contagious smile that stretched from ear to ear. “The Lightning were unstoppable tonight. Is that what we can expect from you guys this season?” she asked, microphone in Darren’s face.

“Yeah, I mean, we’re just playing really good football. We intend to play really good football the whole season. It felt like magic out there tonight. It was a team effort. We brought home the W, and I can’t wait to add more to our season.”

“You said it felt like magic, and I can tell you, it definitely looked like it too.”

“We just gotta keep playing our game. This—tonight—this was Lightning football. We keep doing that, and nothing can stop us.”

“Best of luck to you, Darren. Enjoy your night.”

“Thanks. I plan to,” Darren said, and then the motherfucker winked into the camera, and somehow, I knew it was for me. He didn’t mean the kind of fun that should make me go weak in the knees, but that didn’t stop them from nearly buckling at how sexy he was.

This friendship was going to kill me.

It took what felt like forever to get out of the stadium and walk down the block for a car. Darren and I hadn’t talked about anything other than me going to the game. I figured he had his own thing to do, or hell, maybe he just wanted to fall into bed and pass out. I was back in my hotel room, when my phone alerted me I had a text.

Without looking, I knew it was him.

Troublemaker: Did I blow your mind?

Jesus Christ. Did he know how that sounded? Half the time, he sounded like he was flirting, but I didn’t think he meant to. I didn’t think he knew he was doing it.

Me: Did you do something? If so, I must have missed it.

Troublemaker: Always bustin’ my balls. I played a kickass game. I think you owe me dinner.

Oh. Well, I hadn’t expected that, but then, I had flown across the fucking country.

Me: We can do that. Where did you want to go?

Troublemaker: I’m beat. Can we stay in?

I wasn’t proud to admit it, but I deflated a bit. I thought this would be something we did together.

Me: Sure. I can go there. You want me to just bring something for you and Anson?

Troublemaker: Nah, I was thinking I’d come to you. We can get room service and chill for a while. You did come all the way out here to see me.

Me: To watch a football game.

Troublemaker: To see me play a football game.

Me: Tomato/tomahto.

Troublemaker: Text me your hotel and room number.

I gave Darren the information, but he didn’t reply.

The first thing I did was take off his jersey and pack it away. Sure, I’d worn it because of him, but now that he was coming to my room, I felt silly wearing it. I tugged on a tee instead.

About forty minutes later, there was a knock at the door. I stood from the couch and went over. He was wearing a backward ball cap, sunglasses, a T-shirt, and basketball shorts. “Hey, man. What’s up?” Darren moved around me and into the room. “I had to use my charm to get here, you know? I needed a key to take the elevator up to the suite, but…”

“But you’re Darren Edwards.”

He pulled his glasses off and waggled his brows. “Exactly.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You gonna feed me or what?”

“Food it is.” I grabbed the menu.

“Sorry. I’m always hungry after I play.” He scratched the back of his neck, making me frown. It seemed like something was up with him, but then I questioned if I knew him well enough to see that.