“What the fuck?” Brittany screamed, just one in a chorus of Harrison fans. “Blatant foul that was, and he let it slide?”
Jack made more of an effort to focus on the game. Marcus flew across the field, all deft moves and quick reflexes. The ref kept picking on him, and Marcus looked like he struggled not to lose his shit.
His phone buzzed against his thigh, and Jack almost dropped it in his hurry to check it. He sucked in a breath at Ed’s name on the screen and swiped to read.
Ed: Enjoying the game?
Jack frowned at the screen, trying to figure out what that meant. Had Ed left, then?
Another message came in.
Ed: ’cause it doesn’t look like you are.
Jack’s heart hammered, and he snapped his head around. Ed was walking up the aisle, thumbing his phone. He looked up, and this time their gazes caught.
A nervous smile quirked at the edges of Ed’s mouth. He pressed something on his phone, and Jack’s buzzed again.
Ed: Can I sit with you?
Jack had purposely left enough room to shuffle over in case Ed found him, and he happily shoved his butt across the bench. Brittany raised a brow at him. “That’s cozier than I’m used to from you.”
He rolled his eyes, but there was nothing able to stop him grinning like an idiot. “Ed’s here,” he said under his breath. “Keep it easy, right?”
Brittany perked up, following Jack’s gaze to Ed approaching. She whistled low. “Damn, Jack. That’s a fine-looking man.”
He elbowed her into a fit of giggles and focused on Ed, who perched so close to the edge of the bench it looked like he would soon fall off it.
Ed planted his elbows on his thighs and stared at the game. His throat kept jutting with swallows.
Finally Ed glanced over at Jack and offered a shy smile.
All of Jack’s instincts told him to take Ed into his arms and hold him tight. Tell him everything was okay and he’d protect him from anyone who dared give him shit. Instead he tapped a message on his phone and sent it.
Jack: I’m *really* enjoying the game now.
Ed shifted a little farther onto the bench and clasped the edge, hand within reaching distance. His other hand worked his phone.
Ed: Is that Brittany who’s eyeballing me?
Jack whisked around, catching Brittany in the act. She laughed and ruffled the back of his hair before leaning over him and offering her hand. “I’ve heard lots about you, Ed.”
Jack held his breath and let it go when Ed shook her offered hand. “Same goes for you, Brit.”
“Oh, I do like you.” In the same breath, Brittany turned to another shitty ref call and let out a chain of expletives.
Jack subtly leaned toward Ed. “You don’t want to get on her bad side.”
Brittany snorted. “He speaks from experience.”
Ed shuffled another notch closer. Brittany’s presence seemed to calm him, and Jack could’ve honestly kissed her.
Jack planted his hands on the lip of the bench an inch from Ed’s. An invitation if he wanted it.
“What colors are we rooting for?” Ed asked, and Jack launched into a quick rundown of the two teams. He kept his tone light, informative. Like he was politely answering the questions of a stranger.
Inside, though. Fuck, inside Jack was grinning like a fool.
At half time, Ed left the stands to get them all drinks, and when he came back, sat nearer. Shoulders more relaxed. Smiles flashing in higher frequency.
Brittany switched seats to sit on Ed’s other side, and Jack admired Ed’s silver tongue. It almost matched Brit’s.
Marcus’s team was getting a flogging from the refs, and Jack hurled insults with the rest of the Harrison crowd. When his brother got slashed and the ref overlooked it, Jack was on his feet. “What are you on?” Fuck, Marcus would have some bruise on his gut tomorrow.
He grumpily sat back down, elbow knocking against Ed. He immediately started to put space between them, but Ed clasped his pinkie and pinned it to the bench.
Jack’s anger at the game dissipated. Suddenly he needed it to be over. Needed to get Ed somewhere he could show him how much it meant that Ed had risked coming out to the game with him.
Jack messaged Ed.
Jack: Thank you.
Ed looked at him and smiled.
Jack: Is it presumptuous if I plan to spend the night?
Ed shook his head. “I’m counting on it.”
Jack shook his head, while Brittany sat with a slackened mouth. Ed winced as Harrison fans slowly filtered out of the stands, dragging their feet to the exits. The rows behind them roared in cheers.
“Worst refereed game ever,” Brittany said. “No way Marcus and Triston deserved twenty-five penalties in the first half.” A whistling wind whipped through the stands, adding to the noise around them. Brittany raised her voice. “How the ref missed that foul against Marcus, I’ll never get. I’m surprised there wasn’t a riot.”
“I’ve never watched a lacrosse game before,” Ed said, “but it seemed to me like Harrison was clearly the better team.”
“Hands down.”
Jack stepped back to let two guys pass, and his gaze landed on a girl a set of stands across from them. Not just any girl, this one wore a knee-length skirt, slightly higher up on one side than the other, matching her slanting hair, and she stood staring out at the field. Little Miss Nessa. Alone.
Little bells went off in Jack’s head, and his annoyance at the game faded beneath a small grin. No one who wasn’t a hard-core fan went to games alone. Nessa wasn’t even in the right colors.
Brittany reached around Ed and poked him in the arm.
“Huh?”
“I’m gonna push my way to the ladies’ room. Meet you at the Jeep, yeah?” She thumped Ed on the back and darted into the crowd.
Ed glanced at him, rolling on the balls of his feet, thumbs hooked into the loops of his jeans. “Think I’ll head back to the truck. I’ll catch you later.”
Jack nicked his chin, keeping it as low-key as he could. “Sure.”
“Tell Marcus better luck next time.” Ed whisked himself down the aisle, rubbing the back of his flushed neck.
He let out a soft sigh and slunk toward Nessa. “Well, surprise, surprise.”
She jumped. “What—?” Her gaze latched on to him, and a pink blush crept over her cheeks. “Oh.” She smoothed her skirt with the back of her hand and straightened her composure. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Jack laughed. “Actually, no. Fancy seeing you here.”
Her blush darkened a shade and she whipped her head to the side, toward the field. “Crappy game, huh?”
“Yeah, very. What brings you here? Do you often come to lacrosse games?”
She tried for a confident smile, but it faltered. “I’ve watched a few.”
Did they all have Marcus playing?
They both stared at the field for a while longer. Marcus’s team had finally gone inside, and only two refs and Marcus’s coach were left on the sideline, red-faced, hands gesturing wildly.
He looked at Nessa out of the corner of his eye, then back toward the field. “Marcus got hassled big time out there today.”