Page 127 of Playing Dirty

He shakes his head, a little laugh slipping out. “I’ve broken all my rules for you, Theo. What’s one more?”

That’s just it, isn’t it? Why this feels so wrong.

He’s given me so much over the past few months. His time, his energy, his patience. His forgiveness time and time again, despite me not deserving it.

I can’t take this too.

Shaking my head, I step back, away from the object of my desires—the thing I want more than anything. Which I realize now, isn’t the stupid piece of fabric on the wall.

It’s him.

There are moments I still hardly understand it, especially with how the odds are stacked against us. They’re piled higher than the skyscrapers in downtown Chicago. But right now, it’s as if they don’t exist.

The way I feel about him transcends all else.

What Oakley reminded me of only a few short weeks ago—the same advice he gave Holden last year—comes barreling back into my mind, becoming the only thought I’m capable of making.

“When it’s your forever on the line, all the codes and rules go right out the damn window.”

Every obstacle or circumstance that stands in our way—our history, our parents, the rivalry—none of it matters. Not if it keeps me from having him.So even though my teammates will kill me for what I’m about to do, I don’t care. Because I love him, and I’d rather have him a thousand times over than win some damn rivalry game.

“No,” I tell him softly. “I don’t want it.”

There’s a beat before he lets out a long exhale. “Theo, c’mon.”

“I’m serious. Leave it there or hide it somewhere else. Either way, I’m not taking it.”

To further prove my point, I start toward the door, but it requires me to walk past him—and the stupid thing on the wall. Which would be fine if he didn’t hold his hand out to stop me, pressing it to my chest before I make it through the exit.

My gaze slides to him, finding him staring at me, dumbfounded, before raking his fingers through his hair.

“God, you’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. Do you know that?”

I blink at him, not sure where the frustration is coming from, and I can’t stop myself from biting back, “Yeah, you’ve said that once or twice.”

Pushing past his hand, I make my way down the steps and out the front door of the theatre. I’m halfway to my Bronco when I hear the door slam open, and a glance over my shoulder reveals him stalking across theparking lot after me.

I dig in my pocket for my keys as I approach, only to realize…I gave them to Madden. Which leaves me to wait for him at the back of my car, hand held open for him to return them.

Of course, when he reaches me, he chooses to walk clear past my outstretched hand and head to the driver’s side.

“And I’m the stubborn one,” I mutter under my breath as I yank the passenger door open.

I’m barely in the seat when orange and black fabric hits me square in the face. It only takes a few seconds to realize what it is, though I’m not sure how I missed him carrying it—probably from being too focused on my keys. Regardless, it sets my blood to a boil when I toss it back in his lap.

“What the hell, Madden! Take it back inside.”

He doesn’t listen, though. Instead, he throws it back in my direction and starts the car, peeling out of the parking lot and onto the street without uttering a word.

I’m not sure where he’s taking us, and I don’t ask either. I’m too pissed to speak, which is a feeling I never thought I’d have while holding this stupid piece of fabric in my hands.

We’re cruising down the road for a few minutes, the irritation emanating from us filling the car’s interior with a cloud of toxic gas. It’s suffocating, and I don’t know how much longer I can stand it when he finally breaks the silence with three ground-out words.

“You’re keeping it.”

I scoff and shoot him a glare. “I will throw this thing out the fucking window before I keep it, Madden.”

To further prove my point, I go to roll the window down, but the asshole hits the childlock before I have the chance. So I do the next bestthing: pressing the pennant firmly against his chest and holding it there, only for him to knock my hand away with fury.