Page 45 of Set Play

Theo gets the ball seconds before a new defender enters the lane. A collision between the two looks imminent, and the entire stadium sucks in a collective breath, bracing for impact. My eyes never leave Theo, so I witness a manic grin spread across his face as he lasers in on the defender.

What the hell is he thinking?

Lukas seems to have the same thought because we both bolt in that direction. It happens in the blink of an eye. One second, Theo has the ball and is on trajectory to collide with one of the league’s biggest defenders. Then suddenly, the ball arches over the guy’s head as Theo does a weird spin to dodge him.

Did he just successfully chip shot the ball while under pressure? My jaw falls open. I’ve never seen someone do that in person.

Theo clocks our approach and shouts, “Luk, you’re offside!” before sending the ball back to me. It hits my inner foot at the top of the penalty arc. Phoenix’s sweeper is there, desperately trying to gain control, but I backpedal to stay out of reach. His face contorts with confusion when Theo shouts, “Flip the pancake!”

I laugh to myself. Those damn codenames.

Eli insisted on giving our open play “set plays” codenames to prevent other teams from cracking our playbook open. I have to give it to the kid; it’s worked out in our favor.

Trusting that Lukas is there, I pass the ball behind me and dart to the left, careful to stay in line with the sweeper while Eli matches me on the right. The forwards stay in the center to establish a passing triangle that has the defense chasing the ball in circles.

Well…triangles, I guess.

Phoenix is so busy running after the ball, they don’t notice Theo creeping through the chaos, despite their keeper’s warnings. At Theo’s signal, Eli and I sprint toward the goal just as Diego “accidentally” overshoots Sterling. Storm fans release an audible groan of dismay, until they see that the ball goes straight to Theo, who takes the shot.

The keeper, Kai, tries to make the save, but a defender steps in front of him, throwing him off. As the two teammates exchange words, Storm fans jump to their feet in a group cheer, “GOAL!”

Coach pulls most starters at the next stoppage, allowing the bench to get some field time. Elliott plops down beside me on the bench. “Thank fuck Coach pulled me; I was bored as hell out there. It’s Davis's problem now.” We laugh as we look at the rookie who is all but dancing with excitement in the goal. “He’s a good kid, just excitable.”

I nod, not knowing enough about Hudson to comment. Plus my mind is focused on a feisty brunette who dared to wear another man’s jersey today. Elliott seems to realize this because he dips his chin before turning to talk to Theo on his other side.

At first, I was so distracted by her presence in the tunnel that I didn’t even notice the jersey. But when I did? Fuck, I was so turned on that I could’ve thrown her over my shoulder right there. But then she froze when I told her to turn around. Fucking Cillian. The only reason I didn’t punch him after that is that he’s my best friend. The bastard.

She’s lucky I didn’t give her an earful for the reckless choice right then and there. Even if we didn’t have to be careful with that kind of shit due to the public attention on our relationship, I wouldn’t have liked her wearing his number, but if pictures surface with her in that jersey…

Fucking hell.

I look at the game clock to see there are twelve minutes left in regulation. Including added time, the press conference, and showers, I have at least another hour before we head back to the hotel.

Plenty of time to think of a way to make Élise pay for her little mistake.

Finally free of all my game day demands, I walk out of the locker room to once again find Élise in the tunnel, but this time she’s not alone. Coach’s daughter and Gracie are with her, heads bowed in a top-secret girls’ club meeting.

As I draw near, I hear a fourth voice from inside the circle, “Even I know you don’t go to a guy’s game wearing another’s jersey. Rookie move, Éllie. Plus aren't you worried about the press?”

“So now what?” Gracie asks, not at all trying to moderate her volume, “Regret or gratitude for the jersey?”

Even from here I see Élise’s cheeks darken with her blush. Fucking adorable. But I’ve waited three hours to collect payment and now, I’m done waiting. I clear my throat and laugh as three heads whip toward me with eyes as wide as milk saucers. “Busted,” Gracie mumbles out of the corner of her mouth.

“Problem, Baby Hayes?” I ask as though I didn’t overhear them.

When all three of them shake their heads vehemently, I don’t bother holding back a snort. “Really? Because you’re all acting like I just caught you with your hands in a cookie jar.”

A muffled voice comes from the phone clutched against Élise’s chest, so I pull the phone free and get my first look at who I assume is her roommate.

“Éllie, what is going o—” the question cuts off with a squeak when the redhead on the call sees me rather than her friend. “Shite. You’re not Élise. Okayyyy. Sooooo, you must be Mateo. I’m Niamh. Nice to meet you.”

I open my mouth to greet her but a crash behind me steals my attention. When I look over my shoulder, I see Cillian frantically scanning the girls around me. Disappointment flickers in his eyes before they jump to the phone in my hand and back up to me.

Élise uses the distraction to snatch her phone back and says a hasty goodbye to her roommate. She mutters something to the other two girls, but I’m focused on Cillian, who looks like he saw a damn ghost.

What the fuck?

“Mateo?” Élise places a cold hand on my forearm, pulling my attention back to her. Judging from the look on her face, this isn’t the first time she’s said my name.