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emma

. . .

The notification is right there in my socials, my name is being blasted all over social media and even a few sports news stations.

Hawke Sheppard is in a relationship. He is dating his high school sweetheart, Emma Lawson .

That is what they are writing, and what is being said.

The minute I arrived back in Michigan, I knew something was going on, but I chalked it up to excitement to seeing Hawke after his game.

He had also let on that his grandfather had visited him, which I knew was going to happen when I had talked with Falcon.

What I did not plan for was the social media shitstorm.

SAM: It's not that bad.

RILEY: I agree. And at least Falcon chose a cute picture of you and Hawke.

ME: Not bad? This is exactly what I didn’t want for him. Not this close to the playoff games and the draft coming up next year.

SAM: Hawke initiated it. He must not be worried.

RILEY: I think it’s hot. He wants everyone to know.

I set my phone down and get ready to confront the man in question in person.

The team bus is running late after a delayed flight.

I made it back to campus before him with plenty of time to freak out after waking up to the alerts on my phone.

When I texted him about it earlier, he didn’t answer.

I’m frustrated and scared. Surely this can’t be good for his image before the draft, before his career takes off?

Then there is also the part where he did it without asking me if I was okay with it.

My name is now connected to his. Once again, my own insecurities are rising to the surface.

I’m pacing by the time Hawke gets home, my nerves are shot and knowing I have a game in a couple hours is slowly driving me crazy. Hawke notices nothing of this, just rushes me once he’s through the door, his arms wrapping around my waist and my feet leaving the ground.

“I missed you.” He breathes me in, holding me close.

I sigh. I may be frustrated with him, but I also missed him and have been counting down the hours until I could see him again. “Put me down, Hawke.”

His shoulders tense and he slowly sets me down, making sure I feel every hard line of his body. “Don’t be mad, Em, please.”

I don’t mean to, but I can’t stop my foot from stomping on the ground.

He watches me with a smile on his lips. “I am mad, Hawke. You can’t just do these things without telling me.

I woke up to eighty-seven notifications on social media.

Calls from my parents, Texts from my brothers.

My brothers, Hawke. They usually care about their Xbox game more than me, and they reached out. I thought at first someone died.”

“I should have warned you. It was late when I talked to Fal, and I thought I would have time this morning to bring it up to you.” He bows his head, his hands running up and down my arms. “I’m sorry, Emma.”

Ugh, I don’t want him to be sorry. I don’t want him to be rational. I am freaking out over here and he’s acting like this is easy, breezy. “Everyone knows my name now.”

He nods, his hands clasping mine. “And they all know who you belong to, sugar.”

My knees weaken and my stomach heats whenever he calls me that. I refuse to give in though. “And what if this ruins your image? What is the public or your future team going to think?—”

“Emmarys, I don’t give a fuck what the public thinks or anyone I may play for.

I love you, and I’m proud to call you mine.

Nothing changes that. Who cares if they find out how obsessed I am with you, that for years I’ve been pinning for you, saving myself for you, that I stalked your ass all the way here to Michigan.

I don’t give a fuck. Nothing about you and me, changes.

” He’s breaking jaggedly, his voice strained.

All my worries and my negative self-talk dims in my mind.

I hate that I get so worried. I want to be strong like him, confident in our relationship.

“I’m trying, Hawke. I want to not care what anyone thinks.

I just get worried about anything affecting your image and your game.

Maybe you don’t care, but I wouldn’t be able to stand it if one day you looked at me with disappointment because I ruined your future. ”

Hawke reaches for me, his hand grabbing my jaw, the other wrapping around my waist. “I’m good at football, and I love the game, but nothing compares to you and what we have.

Nothing you do could hurt my image. I would never blame you for anything.

I could lose football tomorrow and I would move on.

If I lost you again, Em, I wouldn't be able to survive.”

My throat tightens and my hands run over his chest, before gripping the material of his shirt in my hands. “Can you just tell me next time, first?”

“I promise. I’m sorry it took you by surprise or that you thought something was wrong.” He leans in and kisses me. My mouth meets his just as eagerly.

“I have to get to my game.” I pull back, having completely forgotten the time crunch I’m actually on.

“Shit, I thought we had more time,” he groans and places another kiss on my lips.

“Did you have plans for us?” I ask, leaning up on my tiptoes to playfully nip his lip. Hawke’s hands tighten on my waist.

“I planned to show you how much I missed you. With my fingers, my tongue and then my dick.”

My thighs clench and suddenly I wished I wasn’t playing tonight either. Spending time wrapped up in Hawke sounds so much better. “Later?”

He grins and kisses my nose. “You can bet on it, sweets.”

“I’d take that bet, Sheppard,” I tease and take off to our room to grab the rest of my warm-up gear.

Hawke follows me and I watch while he peels off his shirt, my eyes hungrily eating up his rippling chest and abs, my heart beating wildly when I see those tattoos.

I love seeing myself marked all over his skin.

That should be proof enough of his feelings and his obsession with me, that it won’t fade because of social media trolls.

And then I see him slide on a Michigan hockey jersey. My brain stutters and my mouth drops open. “What is that? What are you doing?”

He shoots me a wink. “A jersey. I’m going to my hot-as-fuck girlfriend’s game.”

“No, you’re not,” I gasp, my hands running over my face. “Hawke, the post is brand new. Everyone will be paying attention.”

“Good.” He shrugs. “I want them too. I’m going to support you, Em, just like you do when you come watch me play and wear my number. I love seeing it, knowing that I chose it with you in mind.”

My cheeks heat and I break eye contact. He hasn’t seen our new jerseys yet, the ones gifted by Reign. I haven’t told him I also chose a number because of him. I open my mouth to argue, but Hawke beats me to it.

“How about a bet, Emmarys?”

“For what now?” I scoff. “How many bets can we have going?”

He laughs and reaches for my hand. “I’m going. I’m wearing the jersey. I’m cheering on my incredible girlfriend. I’ll bet you that no one will say anything negative.”

“What do you want if you win?” I raise my brow and stuff my hands into the pocket of my hoodie.

Hawke smirks and moves closer. “You’ll meet me in the penalty box after the game?”

I can feel my blush move down my neck to the tips of my ears. “And if I win?”

“If someone says anything, we’ll leave right after the game and I’ll have Falcon do damage control.”

“Deal, QB. I’ll take the bet,” I rush to answer, hoping that he will take even the smallest negativity seriously. Mostly because I know people, I know jealous girls and I’m expecting backlash. We shake on it and then Hawke is driving me to the arena for my pre-game warm-ups.

Trying not to focus on Hawke in the crowd is more difficult than I thought it would be.

It's not other students or spectators that I should be worried about causing a scene, it's me. My boyfriend is incredibly supportive, and he looks gorgeous sitting there, wearing a hockey jersey and holding a sign in the shape of a puck with red hearts all over it that says I pucking love you . Everyone notices and everyone sees. I about had an aneurysm when I first skated on the ice and saw him sitting with Riggs and a few other of his teammates among the student section. So much for lowkey. So much for not drawing attention. For some reason my heart hurt a little knowing for sure that I’ll win the bet we just made tonight. Someone will see Hawke’s display and it won’t take long for there to be a bad comment made.

I want to believe him, and part of me does in a way that he thinks it’s not a big deal.

I vowed to be stronger when it came to the attention that Hawke and I would garnish and I haven’t been keeping the promise to myself.

Skating down the ice, I push myself a little harder.

I want to be the badass version of myself that took revenge for her boyfriend.

I don’t need Hawke to fight my battles; I need to prove to myself that I can handle them.

For the rest of the game, I play with an edge I haven’t felt in weeks.

The other team can’t get past me, and I catch every pass from Riley and try to help set her up for a goal as well.

Once we’re in the third period and have a sustaining lead of a 5-1 score, I take the chance to breathe.

My forehead is glistening with sweat and I can feel it trickling down my back under all the pads and gear.

Only then do I let myself glance once again to the stands and instantly find Hawke.

He’s already watching me; his eyes are dark and his face is tense.

A tension I recognize as the one he usually has when he’s insistent that I come for him again after already giving me two orgasms. My body shudders, and he smirks in response.

It's nerve-wracking with how in tune he is with my body, knowing what one look from him can cause.