Page 98 of The Keeper

“Who’s ‘we’?” Scarlett asked.

“Very funny.” I was breathless from the jumping and smiling so hard my cheeks ached. It was a total one-eighty from the devastation I’d felt when that goal slipped by Noah.

Was this what die-hard football fans had to deal with on a regular basis? The past two hours had been a roller coaster of emotions, and we hadn’t even reached the knockout stage yet.

“You should text him and meet up later to celebrate,” Brooklyn said. “You are his girlfriend, and this is a big moment.”

I shook my head. “I doubt he’ll have time to meet up. Besides, we’re keeping things low-key for the summer.”

Our relationship technically wasn’t a secret from anyone except Evie, but we didn’t want to flaunt it in public and definitely not in front of the press. Except for Asher and Vincent, most of Noah’s Blackcastle teammates didn’t even know we were dating.

Noah was busy shaking hands with the Australian players and celebrating with his team on the pitch. He wouldn’t have access to his texts for a while, but I sent him a congratulations message along with a group photo of the three of us cheering him on and a solo pic of me wearing his jersey.

And Carina…don’t ever wear another man’s jersey number in front of me again.

My thighs clenched at the memory of his gravelly command. It was hotter than it had any right to be, and I wished like hell he had time to meet up. He probably didn’t.

I hit send and glanced back at the pitch. Noah’s normally massive frame looked tiny from this far away, but his golden hair and number one shirt were unmistakable. They’d won, and he was happy.

I’d never admit it, but I had a feeling I’d be spending a lot of time watching clips of him from today’s match—reliving the victory, dissecting his reactions after every save. It was as good a bedtime routine as any.

I followed Scarlett and Brooklyn back into the suite for post-match snacks, unable to suppress another smile.

Maybe football wasn’t so boring after all.

That night in my hotel suite, I was watching my dozenth clip of Noah saving a particularly impressive shot when his name popped up in my notifications.

My heart flipped.

Noah

My jersey looks good on you

Noah

It would look better off of you

A deep flush consumed my entire body. I bit my lip through a grin as I responded.

Really? Not even a hi, hello, how are you first?

Noah

Hi, hello, how are you

Noah

My jersey would look better off you

So poetic. Are we resorting to clichés now, Wilson?

Noah

Depends. Is it working?

Absolutely

No shenanigans tonight though. I’m sharing a suite with the girls