When it passes, I almost collapse onto the table, unable to hold myself up any longer. Sweat rolls down my face, and I'm smiling even though I’m spent. Duncan's still behind me, his breath ragged in the darkness. "So that's why it's called a Hart Attack."
"Hmm?"
"It felt so good, I swear my heart stopped for a moment," I whisper, looking back over my shoulder at him. "And it's addictive as hell, too."
Duncan smiles, helping me stand to turn around and kiss him before he drops to a knee, stopping my heart again for a moment before I realize he's trying to help me with my jeans. "You scared me there for a second."
“Huh?” he asks, and I feel warmth spread up my neck to my cheeks.
"Because for a second there, I thought you were going to ask me to marry you."
Duncan stops, realizing before he laughs. "A little too fast for that, don't you think? But I did have another idea in mind."
"What's that?"
"Why wait until next semester to move in with me?"
I think about it, and I nod. “Tell you what, maybe I’ll just stay with you on the weekends,” I say, unable to hold back my smile. “I’ve still got residence in the dorm for the rest of the semester, and my parents would shit themselves if they knew I moved in with you. My dad already kind of hates you. But weekends for sure."
"And tonight," Duncan says, gathering me in his arms and holding me close. “Don’t tell me you’re changing your mind about tonight.”
"Yes, of course, tonight."
My stomach grumbles, and Duncan laughs. "Come on. Let's go home, and I'll see what I have in the fridge.”
Chapter 15
Duncan
Monday night. An away game. It seems strange to be saying that, but it feels good at the same time.
"Hey, get used to it," Tyler says to me as we jog onto the field. The lights are bright, and it's our second night game in a row. "Starting next year, you're going to be playing a lot on Sunday and Monday, right?"
"Damn right," I answer, smacking him on the shoulder. "Let's take care of these guys first."
When our schedule was first determined, a matchup of the Western Bulldogs versus the Carolina Swamp Foxes sounded like a hell of a fight. West Coast against East Coast, Western Conference against the South Atlantic Conference. There was even star power, as Carolina was bringing back not only a star quarterback, but two All-American defensive players.
Unfortunately for them, but great for us, one of the Carolina All-Americans, outside linebacker, Marcus Winston, tore up his shoulder in the second game of the season, and with him out of action, their other All-American on defense, tackle Jerome Lattimore, was more easily contained. Tyler is still going to have his hands full, but we've got the advantage.
"Man, I'm just glad you're not doing suicide squad again this week," Tyler says as we wait for the kickoff. "You were sucking wind at the end of last game."
"Don't sweat it. I've got inspiration tonight."
Tyler nods, then leans in. "Hey . . . just to let you know, a lot of the guys aren't happy about the way the Honor Board is treating your girl. You notice that Chelsea ain't around."
"I noticed," I say, looking at the staff that came with us. Since this is a televised game, the network popped for the extra three tickets, and some of the training interns came along this time. Still, none of them were Carrie, and I flexed my elbow in response. "It'll work itself out. I’m making it my mission to make sure things are set right.”
"Well, let's roll. Our ball!"
Tyler and I run out to the huddle with the rest of the starting offense, feeling it. The Carolina crowd isn't friendly, booing us loudly, but we expect that. "Time to be the bad guy," I yell as we huddle up. "Let's go ruin someone's night."
I line up, and Tyler sends me in motion, and I 'wiggle' across, cutting upfield as soon as the ball snaps into a ten-yard out pattern, catching the ball off a perfect lead by Tyler. I turn up field and gain another seven yards before getting tackled, and it's on.
We line up again, and I grin at the Carolina player on the other side, who's dressed in his black and light blue and still feeling like there's a chance. "What, no shit talk?" he asks as we get set. "Thought you were famous for it. I was looking forward to shutting you up.”
"Don't need it anymore," I reply, and when the ball snaps, I blast him with a double-punch to the shoulder pads before cutting across the middle. I'm actually the second option on the play, but when I turn my head back, I see Tyler already releasing the ball in my direction. It's a little high, but not too bad, and I can take it in with a running jump, landing and cutting up the field with a step on my defender. Forty-seven yards later, and Western is up by a touchdown, and the noisy Carolina crowd goes, at least temporarily, quiet.