Page 4 of Flag On The Play (Gridiron Warriors #5)

FINLAY

A hell of a crowd.

A winning game.

A proud interview in the locker room, where I said all the right things and smiled like I had the world at my feet.

And yet, here I am flat on my back, staring at the ceiling like it holds all the answers, thinking about Nova Wilde.

She came to the game.

I don’t know why that hits as hard as it does, but it does. She showed up. Bought a ticket. Sat in that stadium and watched me .

I should be riding the high of the win. Should be basking in the stats I put up, the way the team rallied, the reporters praising every damn move I made. But none of it matters. Not right now. Not when my mind keeps rewinding to her.

High school Nova was beautiful in that effortless, untouchable way.

Her tight jeans and thick eyeliner, that smart-ass mouth of hers, always one second away from wrecking my ego.

But tonight? Tonight, she was a full-blown goddess.

Confident. Powerful. Every inch of her practically humming with control.

Long legs that could wrap around you and not let go.

Hips that swayed like they knew every eye was on her and didn’t give a damn.

That mouth, still smart, still lethal, but now kissed with red that made me want to see it smudged.

And those eyes? Still sharp. Still deadly.

Still capable of undoing me with a single glance.

She was waiting for me. Outside the stadium, arms crossed, jaw set, fire in her eyes. Like some kind of divine punishment wrapped in fishnets and revenge. She stepped in front of me and slammed that envelope into me like she was driving a dagger through my pride.

Telling me she didn’t want my money like it was gospel. Like she meant it with every ounce of her soul.

It stung.

Then she turned on her heel like she was walking out of a movie scene.

And fuck, she looked good doing it.

Better than I remembered.

And damn if it didn’t make me want to chase her all over again.

I watched her walking away, sharp, fierce, perfect, and I couldn’t help myself.

I called after her, wanting her to hear something real from me, anything that might break the tension between us.

Instead of just telling her it was good to see her, I had to add that last dig in. I had to take it to the next level.

Yeah. That was petty. I know it.

I just can’t help myself when it comes to her. Never could.

She flipped me off without even looking back. Cold. Unbothered. Classic Nova.

And now I’m here. Awake. Restless. Thinking about her curves, her fire, the way she looked at me like I was the scum beneath her stilettos, and wondering why the hell I liked it so much.

Why she still gets to me.

Why I want her to.

The sun’s barely up and the field’s already buzzing.

Whistles, cleats on turf, the heavy thud of pads slamming during drills. It’s our soundtrack. A familiar rhythm. One that usually clears my head.

“Let’s go, Reed!” Coach Sterling hollers. “Snap and read!”

Robert Sterling is a legend. He’s not only played the game, but he’s also been a beloved coach who has been a mentor to so many. Myself included. He’s tough, he’s demanding, and he loves the fucking game.

I line up, fingers grazing the laces, breath steady.

My eyes sweep the field. Jace “Diesel” Dalton on my left, already bouncing on his feet, cocky as hell and ready to explode.

He lives for this. That adrenaline-junkie swagger is baked into every step he takes, and no one breaks through a line like he does. Pure chaos on legs.

To my right is Theo Bennett, our number one wide receiver and the most graceful son of a bitch I’ve ever seen on a football field.

He doesn’t run routes, he glides through them, smooth and calculated like he’s got gravity on his side.

Sleek, stylish, and way too composed for how deadly he is with the ball.

Behind me is Malik Brooks, aka Tank. Built like a brick wall and twice as hard to get past. He’s our fullback and a literal freight train when he blocks. He doesn’t just protect me, he dares defenders to try him. The man clears space like it’s his religion.

And then there’s Knox Reyes, our tight end, who’s all power and grit. He’s the guy who never takes a play off. Hands like glue, eyes like a hawk, and a loyalty that runs deeper than most blood. He’s not loud, but when he speaks, you listen. And when he hits? You feel it.

Even Calton Gray, the backup QB, is sharp as hell. Quiet, observant, always soaking everything in. The kid’s hungry. If I go down, I don’t doubt he’d step up. He’s young, but he’s not stupid. He learns fast, which means I have to keep playing faster.

The ball snaps and I grab it, dropping back three steps, feeling the pressure, and scanning the field. Theo breaks free, slant route sharp and clean. I fire.

Perfect catch. First down.

“Hell yeah!” Jace yells, slapping Theo’s helmet.

I reset. Another snap, this time a fake handoff to Diesel, who sells the run so hard the defense eats it up. Tank’s in with a crushing block, Knox breaks left, and I hit him with a bullet across the middle. He barrels through two defenders like they’re made of paper.

Play after play, it clicks.

We’re building something real here. Not just wins, but chemistry. Every guy on this field adds something. Every route, every block, every hit. It’s all part of the bigger machine. And I’m the one running it.

Usually, I live for this. The precision. The adrenaline. The thrill of control.

But today?

Nova’s still in my goddamn head.

The way she looked at me last night like she wanted to set me on fire and smile while I burned. The way she flipped me off like she was doing me a favor. And fuck, the way she looked walking away, hips swaying with that signature bite-me confidence.

I shake it off. Line up again. Focus.

Another snap.

Another perfect throw.

And yet, no matter how well I play, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m still chasing something.

Something off the field.

Something wearing red lipstick and heels, with a stare that could kill.

Unfortunately, practice doesn’t stop because your mind is elsewhere. But it wasn’t long before Coach called it a day, and we headed off to the locker room.

The smell of sweat, turf, and victory clings to the air like it always does after a solid practice. Pads hit the floor, music thumps low in the background, and the guys are talking shit like we didn’t just run drills for three hours in the heat.

I pull my shirt over my head, towel around my neck, when Jace kicks open his locker and grins. “We’re going out tonight. No excuses.”

Theo snorts. “You’re always trying to get us out.”

“Yeah, and you love it every damn time.” Jace points at me. “Reed, what about you? You in?”

I barely hesitate.

“Let’s go to Heaven.”

Jace’s brow lifts, and Theo stops halfway through tying his sneakers.

“Heaven?” Jace repeats. “As in Heaven’s Edge? The club?”

“Yeah.” I keep my tone casual, like it doesn’t matter, like it’s just another club. “Why not?”

Theo side-eyes me. “Last time, you were ready to fight someone after seeing her. Now you’re trying to go back?”

I shrug and toss my towel into the bin. “She’s not that big of a deal.”

They both stare at me like I just told them I’m giving up football to open a flower shop.

“I just feel like blowing off steam,” I say with a smirk. “What better place?”

Theo shrugs but doesn’t argue. “Fine. But if you get all weird and broody again, I’m leaving you at the bar.”

“Deal.”

The moment we step inside, we’re hit with the heavy pulse of bass and the warm glow of the stage lights. The place is already packed, bodies pressed close, heads tilted toward the spotlight.

Candy’s on stage.

Her routine is polished and sexy. She owns every move, confident and smooth, dressed in glitter and heat. The crowd is eating it up, money raining down, guys leaning forward like she’s dancing just for them.

But she’s not who I’m here for.

We make our way to the bar, pushing through the crowd. I spot the bartender instantly.

She’s hard to miss with dark hair, tattoos, and rings on nearly every finger. She’s got the kind of confidence that demands attention, and the second her eyes land on me, she narrows her eyes.

Jace throws a charming grin her way. “Three shots, three beers.”

She nods, expression unreadable. Moves fast and sharp as she sets up our drinks.

Theo digs out his wallet, already pulling his card, but before he can hand it over, she slides her hand over his.

“Nope,” she says, her voice honey-smooth with just enough bite. Her gaze flicks to me as she adds, “I think your boy here has an extra two thousand lying around. Let him pay.”

Theo’s hand freezes.

Jace lets out a low whistle.

And I?

I grin.

Because that? That was all, Nova.

I reach into my pocket, pull out a wad of cash, and toss a few bills on the bar without missing a beat.

“Happy to.”

She smirks like she just won something.

Jace looks between all of us. “Okay, what the hell did we miss?”

I tip back my shot and smile to myself.

Game on, Nova.