Page 111 of Playing the Field

I barely have time to process that before Carmen Vasquez and Natasha Holloway are at my side, looping their arms through mine like I’ve been here all along.

“You’re not allowed to sit by yourself,” Carmen announces. “That’s the rule.”

“We’ve heard plenty about you already,” Natasha adds, grinning. “The guys talk about you all the time.”

I narrow my eyes slightly. “Should I be concerned?”

Lily Armstrong snorts from her seat. “No more than the rest of us should be.”

There’s a beat of silence before everyone laughs, and just like that—the tension in my chest eases.

I’m not an outsider here.

I’m one of them.

I settle into a seat between Rachel and Allie Harris, who immediately starts breaking down the strengths and weaknesses of the Sabercats’ defensive line like she’s coaching the team herself.

“These guys like to press hard early on,” she mutters, eyes locked on the field. “But they’ll gas out if we push them past halftime.”

I smile, leaning in. “You sound like you should be down there in the locker room.”

She winks. “Toby says the same thing. He refuses to let me critique his film.”

I laugh, feeling the last bit of nerves melt away.

The women pull me into their world effortlessly, filling me in on team traditions, who gets the most intense during games (Dominic, obviously), and which players are the most superstitious (apparently, Finn has to eat the same pre-game meal before every match, or he swears they’ll lose).

And then, as the Tigers take the field, the entire box erupts in cheers, a wall of noise that rivals the stadium itself.

I glance down, my eyes immediately finding Graham standing near the sideline, arms crossed as he watches his team take their places.

As if he feels my gaze, he glances up toward the box, his blue eyes locking onto mine through the glass.

I don’t move.

Neither does he.

Then, slowly, he smirks.

I bite my lip, fighting back a grin.

Because he was right.

I am one of them now.

I belong here.

With the team.

With the WAGs.

With him.

And as the whistle blows and the game begins, one thought echoes through my mind.

I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

The stadium is electric.