"Check out that lineout signal from Jayden," I say to Jess. "Barely a flick of the wrist, but they all know exactly what to do. It's like they can read each other's minds."
The scrum battles are intense, neither side giving an inch. But soon the home team's backs get possession. The ball moves swiftly down the line before landing in Kai's hands.
He's off like a shot, deftly sidestepping a slew of defenders.
My breath catches as I watch the muscles in his thighs flex with each powerful stride. "Go on Kai!" I whisper under my breath.
He breaks through the last line of defense and dives over the try line in a blur of limbs.
The stadium erupts in celebration. Jess and I are on our feet, swept up in the exhilaration.
Kai pops up, pumping his fist as his teammates mob him.
"He's incredible," I marvel aloud. "With athleticism and charisma like that, no wonder he's a fan favorite."
I force myself to look away from his muscular frame glistening under the lights. Focus, Dylan! I remind myself. I'm here to support the team and maybe update some plays of my own, not ogle the players.
But still...a small part of me imagines what it might be like if I was down there on the pitch with him—with all of them—instead of up in the stands. Could we have that effortless chemistry? I quickly shake the thought from my head. That's a dangerous line of thinking that will only lead to trouble.
For now, I'm content to be a spectator...even if I can't tear my eyes away from the alluring athleticism on display.
The game winds down and the men emerge victorious. The crowd's energy simmers to a low buzz as people begin filing out of the stadium.
Jess and I linger in our seats, watching the players revel in their win. They look like warriors basking in the glow of the field lights, triumphant grins on their faces.
I let out a wistful sigh. "Is it them I'm attracted to, Jess, or just the thrill of the game?"
"Maybe a bit of both?" Jess suggests, laughing. “The game is exhilarating, and the players are fine as hell… there’s no reason you have to choose! Take it all!”
I laugh too, knowing she's probably right. There's an undeniable magnetism that comes from watching talented athletes in their element. Still, I can't deny that the handsome players themselves hold some appeal, too.
"Well, ready to head out?" Jess asks, standing up and stretching. "We could grab a bite and decompress from the intensity of the match."
"Good idea," I agree, tearing my eyes away from the celebrating players. I need to get out of this charged atmosphere and back to reality.
As we make our way out of the rows of seats, I take one last glance at the field. Under the glow of the lights, it almost seems magical.
But it's just a game, I remind myself.
And like all games, the spell ends when the final whistle blows.
Chapter 30
Dylan
Thesunbeatsdownon my neck as I step onto the rugby pitch, the screams and grunts of the men's team practice assaulting my ears. The noises they make are a far cry from the much quieter women’s team. We definitely yell, but it’s nothing compared to this. It’s as if they’re frat bros at the gym, purposely trying to pick up the heaviest weight and doing exaggerated grunting in a ‘pick me’ move.
The grass is vibrant green and freshly cut, the scent mingling with the musk of sweat and effort. Across the field, a junior women’s team whoops and hollers as they practice rucks and mauls, while the steady thwack of baseballs echoes from the nearby diamond.
The sun beats down on my neck as I make my way across the manicured pitch. The thick scent of freshly cut grass fills my nose while shouts from coaches and the thud of colliding bodies echo in the distance.
I clutch my notepad tightly, glancing around, momentarily overstimulated by everything going on around me. Why am I here again? Oh right, coach wanted me to study tactics and teamwork. As if I don't know how to tackle. But it's more than that, she said. There's always more to learn.
I find a spot on the sidelines, and settle in to observe. The team is mid-scrimmage, intensity etched on their faces. This isn't just practice to them—it's everything.
Noah catches my eye as he charges down the pitch, the ball tucked tightly under his arm. There's a ruthless determination about him, a singular focus. The others fall into his wake, but no one quite matches his drive.
He crosses the try line and slams the ball down, breathing hard.