Page 16 of Flag On The Play (Gridiron Warriors #5)

FINLAY

“ R eed, nice play,” Theo says, slapping me on the back as we head toward the locker room.

I give him a nod and a half-smile, already shifting into the next gear. Not game prep. Not media. Not post-practice recovery.

We leave for Seattle tomorrow to face the Westerners. Coach has been on us all week about staying focused, staying hungry. And I’ve done that. I pushed harder, ran faster, studied longer.

But tonight, I’m putting it all aside. For her.

It’s been a week since she walked out of my penthouse, hair messy from my hands, lips swollen from our kisses, body wrapped in my shirt that she never took off.

I haven’t been able to shake the image since.

Nova, tangled in my bed, looking at me like she was trying to figure out how the hell she got there and why it felt so right.

That night wasn’t just sex.

It was something else. Something that’s been haunting me in the best kind of way.

Which is why I texted her two days ago with a simple text.

Me: Dinner Friday? My treat. Wear something that’ll make it hard for me to concentrate.

She sent back a middle finger emoji and a heart. And for her? That’s practically poetry.

Now I’m standing outside her place in a button-down shirt that took way too long to pick out, clutching a tiny velvet box in my coat pocket. Not a ring, Jesus. A charm bracelet I saw in a shop window, and couldn’t stop picturing it on her wrist.

She opens the door before I knock, like she knew I was coming.

And when I see her, the breath knocks right out of me.

She wore red.

A silky little dress that hugs her curves and falls just shy of dangerous. Her hair is loose and wild, lips painted in a shade that makes my knuckles itch to smudge it.

“Hey,” she says with a soft smile, pulling her coat around her like it could hide all that temptation.

“Hey,” I murmur, stepping closer. “You look…”

Hot? Beautiful? Like, I might black out?

“Worth skipping film review for.”

She rolls her eyes and lets me guide her to the car.

I take her to my favorite little Italian spot. Quiet. Candlelit. The kind of place where the pasta is homemade and the wine list makes my wallet cry. But she’s worth every damn penny.

We’re led to a corner booth with dim lighting and flickering candles, tucked away from the rest of the crowd. Perfect. Or at least it would’ve been if the hostess hadn’t been undressing me with her eyes the whole walk over.

She places the menus down with a little extra sway in her hips, her voice syrupy as she tells me to enjoy the meal. Nova arches a brow, tracking every move.

In the past, I might’ve let her follow me into the bathroom.

But not anymore.

Not when the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen is already sitting across from me.

“She needs her eyes checked.”

I glance up from the menu, confused. “What?”

Nova lifts a brow and leans back, like her confidence doesn’t have sharp edges. “Clearly she didn’t see me.”

A grin stretches across my face as I reach across the table and grab her hand. “Nova Wilde, are you jealous?”

She rolls her eyes and snatches her hand back, but there’s a glint in her eyes I can’t ignore. “I don’t get jealous, QB. My job doesn’t allow for it.”

“Good,” I say, leaning closer. “Because no one else could possibly get my attention.”

She doesn’t answer, just picks up her menu with a smug little smirk, and fuck if that doesn’t do something to me. I order us a bottle of red, the same one we had that night in my penthouse that we never drank, and we settle into conversation like we’ve been doing this for years.

But I can feel it.

She’s fidgeting. Not in the obvious way. Nova doesn’t squirm. But she’s quiet. Distracted. Her shoulders are a little too tight for someone this goddamn stunning in a dress that’s supposed to be illegal in public.

I slide my hand under the table and rest it on her knee.

“You okay?”

Her whole body softens, like my touch flipped a switch. She exhales, finally meeting my eyes.

“I tend to overthink things,” she says quietly. “And I’m trying hard not to do that.”

I squeeze her knee. “You? Overthinking?”

She laughs, really laughs, and the knot in my chest loosens. That laugh could gut me. Or heal me. I’m not sure which.

We talk more while we eat. She tells me about a guy at the club who tried to tip her with Monopoly money, and I tell her about a rookie on the team who thinks TikTok dances are part of warm-ups. She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. Relaxing.

We talk. We laugh. She steals my calamari and drinks from my glass even though she has her own. Her foot brushes mine under the table, and the tension coils tight all over again.

But it’s not just physical.

It’s her laugh. Her wit. The way she looks at me like I’m more than just a guy in a jersey.

And when the dessert menu comes, I pull the little velvet box from my jacket pocket and slide it across the table.

“What’s this?”

I shrug, suddenly more nervous than I ever get before a game. “Something I saw and couldn’t stop picturing on your wrist.”

She opens the box slowly, and her mouth parts when she sees the silver charm bracelet inside. A tiny football. A little lightning bolt. A star. And one blank charm for room to grow.

“Finlay.”

“You don’t have to wear it if you think it’s cheesy,” I say quickly. “I just wanted you to know I’ve been thinking about you. Every day. Since that first night.”

She swallows hard and lifts her eyes to mine. “It’s not cheesy.”

I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table. “I meant what I said, Nova. I’m not just in this for fun. I don’t want to be someone you forget.”

“You already aren’t.”

Her voice is so soft I almost miss it, but the way it lands in my chest? No missing that.

“I don’t know how to do this relationship thing,” she continues, running her thumb over the bracelet. “But I know how I feel when I’m with you. And that scares the hell out of me.”

I reach across the table, curling my hand around hers.

“Then let’s be scared together.”

She looks at me like she wants to argue, but then she lets out a shaky breath and nods.

“Okay.”

And just like that, we’re something more than we were yesterday.

“How about we go meet everyone at the club. I know Roxy and Delaney are texting you as much as Theo and Jace are texting me.”

She needs fun right now. This is all very heavy for her.

“I love that idea.”

The second we walk into the club, the bass hits my chest like a second heartbeat. Lights strobe across the crowd, casting glints off the glitter on Delaney’s cheeks and the wild red in Roxy’s hair as they spot us and wave from their VIP booth.

Nova slides her hand into mine, and even though we just left a romantic dinner where she all but said she was mine, I still feel like the luckiest bastard in the room.

“Hey, quarterback,” Roxy shouts over the music, giving me a dramatic once-over. “Looking like a man who just got laid and fed.”

Nova chokes on a laugh as she elbows her. “Jesus, Rox.”

“What?” Roxy grins. “It’s a compliment. He’s glowing.”

“I don’t glow,” I mutter, settling next to Nova in the booth.

“Yeah, you do,” Delaney says sweetly. “It’s kind of adorable.”

Theo raises his glass from across the table. “She’s not wrong. Never seen you smile this much, Reed.”

“Shut up,” I grumble, but I can’t help the grin stretching across my face when Nova looks at me out of the corner of her eye.

The girls are already halfway through a bottle of champagne, and Jace, my wide receiver and resident party starter, shows up with shots for the entire table.

“To good friends, hot dates, and scoring more than touchdowns,” he toasts, earning an eye-roll from Delaney and a loud cheer from Roxy.

Nova raises her glass, clinks it to mine, and down it goes. Smooth. Fiery. Just like her.

The music shifts into something with a slower, sexier rhythm, and Nova stands, tugging my hand.

“Dance with me, QB.”

I don’t hesitate. I follow her onto the floor like I’d follow her anywhere.

Her body molds to mine instantly, her arms wrapped around my neck, her hips moving to the beat like she was made for it.

Made for me. I slide my hands to her waist, guiding her against me as we move.

It’s not rushed or wild. It’s slow. Intentional.

Every sway of her hips, every brush of her chest against mine, is a tease.

I lean in close, my mouth brushing the shell of her ear. “I’m gonna miss you while I’m gone.”

She freezes just for a beat. Just long enough for me to wonder if I said too much. But then she lifts her head, her eyes locking with mine under the pulse of the lights.

“I’m gonna miss you too.”

Those five words knock the air out of my lungs.

Before I can say anything else, she leans in and presses her mouth to mine. Right there, in the middle of the dance floor. Not soft. Not hesitant. It’s deep and slow and hungry. Her fingers thread into my hair, and my hands grip her tighter, like I can imprint the feel of her into my memory.

The rest of the world fades. It’s just her.

When we finally pull apart, her lipstick is a little smudged, her chest is rising and falling fast, and that look in her eyes is pure heat.

Yeah. I’m fucked.

Because when I get back from Seattle, she’ll still be waiting with that fire, that sass, that wild heart, and I’ll be ready to make damn sure she knows she’s not just someone I’m falling for.

She’s the one I’m all in for.

Seattle is cold. Not just the temperature, but the air. It’s crisp and sharp like it wants to cut through your skin.

But I don’t feel it.

Not when I’ve got Nova in my head, her laugh echoing like background music I don’t want to turn off. Her mouth on mine. The way her body moved against me in that club like we were two puzzle pieces finally clicking into place.

She’s under my skin. And now? She’s in my game.

“Focus, Reed,” Coach barks as we huddle up at the line.

I’m focused. Just not the way he means.

I see the defensive setup. I know where they’re going before they do. It’s like the whole damn field is moving in slow motion, and I’m already ten steps ahead.

I grab the snap and drop back, eyes scanning, grip firm.

Jace breaks left. Theo cuts in.

I launch the ball like it’s second nature, because it is, and watch it spiral into Theo’s hands in the end zone.

Touchdown.

The crowd roars. My heart pounds.

The final Score is Rebels 34, Westerners 17.

It’s the win we needed. A win that brings us that much closer to the Victory Bowl. Hell, it’s the win I wanted more than anything because I played like a goddamn machine out there.

I peel off my pads in the locker room, still sweating, still wired.

Theo claps me on the back as he passes. “Nova,” Theo says, nodding. “She’s the game-changer.”

“She really is,” I admit, surprising even myself.

There’s a pause. A beat where no one laughs or chirps.

Just a couple guys looking at me like they’ve never seen me so damn sure of anything.

“She’s the best thing that ever happened to you,” Jace says.

I nod once, a hand running through my still-damp hair. “On the field and off.”

Back at the hotel, the city lights glow through the massive window of my suite. I’m still high off the win, but it’s not enough.

Not without her.

So I grab my phone and hit her name.

She answers on the second ring, her voice sleep-soft and sexy. “Hey, QB.”

“Did I wake you?”

“No. Just lying in bed, scrolling on my phone, and missing you.”

I groan, sinking back onto the bed. “Damn, Wilde. You can’t say things like that when I’m a thousand miles away.”

“Oh no,” she teases, “is the big, tough quarterback struggling?”

I smile, eyes closing. Her voice is like a balm to the noise of the day. “You have no idea. I couldn’t stop thinking about you tonight. Every play, every snap, you were right there.”

Her breath hitches just enough for me to hear it.

“You’re my secret weapon, Nova.”

“Pretty sure that’s not legal in the playbook.”

“I’m not playing by their rules anymore.”

Silence stretches for a second.

Then she whispers, “Tell me what you’d be doing right now if you weren’t in Seattle.”

I let the words settle before answering, my voice dropping low.

“I’d be on top of you.”

“Finlay,” she whispers.

“Slow,” I cut in. “I’d take my time. Kiss every inch of you. Remind you exactly what you do to me.”

Her breathing’s heavier now. “That’s what you’d be doing?”

“Hell yeah. You think I could spend the night thinking about the way you taste and not want more?”

She’s quiet, and when she finally speaks, her voice is thick with heat. “I’m touching myself.”

Jesus Christ.

I shift on the bed, trying not to explode.

“I need to hear it, Nova. Every sound you make. Every breath.”

And she gives it to me. Soft, breathy gasps as I talk her through it, painting every filthy promise I plan to keep the second I’m back.

When it’s over, we’re both wrecked. Quiet. But not awkward.

Never awkward with her.

“I miss you,” I say quietly.

“I miss you too.”

“I’ll be home soon.”

“I’ll be waiting.”