Page 77
Story: My Dark Jock: The Complete Series (My Dark Jock Series)
-North-
WE’RE FIVEpoints behind on the last down and we’re in possession of the ball. The floodlights illuminate the field, and above, the stars wink in the wintry night sky.
I twist my feet into the turf, crouched behind the quarterback. The ball is coming to me, and I’m ready for it. I’ve got my team around me, and my sights set on the end zone. Mal is to my right, hunkered low, the uniform stretched across his sturdy back. I allow myself a moment to enjoy the view of his ass in the skintight pants. Damn. How anyone can keep their head in the game with that tight ass on the field is a miracle.
Concentrate, North. Football now, ass later.
I drag my eyes away moments before the play starts. The quarterback snaps the ball back and it slots into my arms like it’s a missing part of me. The lines smash ahead, and I set off, aiming wide, pushing with everything I’ve got.
As I pass the clash of bodies, a defender comes at me, arms stretched out to take me down, and a second later, Mal slams into him from the side and they fall in a tumble of limbs and pads. I jump clear and sprint, eating the field up as my legs pump.
A few more defenders lunge for me but they fall by the wayside as I spin past. No one and nothing can stop me now.
I sail into the end zone, scoring the final touchdown. The crowd erupts as I throw the ball down where it rebounds off the turf and do a running flip as the buzzer goes. The guys rush me with back slaps, high fives, punches, and shoulder shakes, as they murder the song.
“North to Alaska, go north the rush is on.”
Through their bodies I scan the field for Mal, and spot him where he always is, hovering just outside the group. As I wade through the bodies I see Randy break off and run to the stands, where Becki is waiting with a “GO GREEN HAWKS” sign. He sweeps her off her feet as she whoops.
I run full speed at Mal and throw my arms around him.
“Whoa,” he says, and stumbles, almost tipping over before he returns the embrace. “Good job, Nolan.”
We pry our helmets off, throw them down, and kiss hard and fierce as the crowd cheers.
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