Page 11 of Nothing to Lose

“Alright, we’re all here, so let’s get this started!” I announce.

“Pretty sure Coach wanted you two to come up with ideas that weren’t us playing more rugby,” Rome chides.

“We’re not playing rugby, fucker, let him talk!” Silas barks, shutting Rome up.

“Before I was so rudely interrupted,” I say as I give Rome a death stare, “we’re playing a friendly little game of capture the flag.” There are some whoops and hollers, and I look at Eli, standing with his arms crossed over his buff chest, biceps bulging, looking like a fucking snack, and give him a little nod.

“Orange team is Silas, Dean, Jacob, Christian, Ahmed . . .” I continue to name off the team members, leaving one for last. “Aaand Eli.” His eyes catch mine from across the sea of people picking up their bandannas, everyone else assuming they’re team blue.

“Trying to handicap yourself, Hunter?” he calls as he walks up to me, eyes glancing down at my clipboard.

“Nah, just trying to give each team a fighting chance.” I shoot him a wink.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be?” he says with a smile, pulling the clipboard from my hand.

I shrug innocently. “I called them out at random.”

Eli snorts. “You color-coded the roster.”

“Coincidence.”

He pulls the clipboard from my hand, eyes scanning the document. I’m sure I look like a fool with how much I’m smiling right now. “Wow. Looks like you alphabetized us by speed.”

“Organization is a true talent.”

“You absolutely rigged this, you fucker.”

I smile, just enough for him to see it. I want Eli to win, but I didn’t want to make it easy on him. “Prove it,” I whisper low enough for only him to hear.

“Oh, I will.”

Within minutes, we’ve all taken up separate sides of the field just as a storm rolls in, pelting us with cool rain. Then every shred of dignity dissolves into absolute chaos. It’s pandemonium as we face off with each other like we never have before. There are no stakes in it, just good old-fashioned fun competition. Players are tackled into puddles, mud coating all of us as we slip and slide on the soaked field.

“Someone cover the left side!” I yell as Eli and Silas encroach closer and closer to our defenses.

“I am covering the left side!” Kai yells back to me.

“You look like you’re picking flowers instead of being ready to face them!”

He throws his arms out to the sides but still doesn’t look ready for the tsunami heading his way. “I’m being tactical!”

“You’re being cowardly!”

“It’s called surviving!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I yell as I look back down the field. All my defenses drop. I should be guarding our flag, but I can’t take my eyes off Eli. He’s magnetic when he moves, weaving through defenders with the same effortless confidence he has on match days. Perfected sidesteps, the strength and agility of a man who’s trained to be an athlete his entire life.

At the last second, just when we think he’s going to head toward Kai, he pivots, his eyes focused on me as if I’m the sole foe standing in his way. The blue flag is behind me, and for a split second, I wonder how I’m going to handle this. Fake it out and let him get it, or put up the fight of my life.

An image of Eli under me on his bed flashes behind my eyes, desperate and wanton, only after wrestling for dominance.

Fight it is.

Instead of letting him make it all the way to me, I meet him in the middle, leaving our flag defenseless while I try to hold him back. Just as I’m a foot from him, my body poised to tackle him into the mud, he sidesteps, psyching me out. I should have seen it coming, but I was too entranced, too eager to get my hands on him.

Eli is quick, his legs moving faster than mine, jumping up and snatching our flag from the goalpost.

“Fuck!” I curse.