The Captain's Dirty Little Secret

She turned her face enough to break the kiss. "Stop."

He froze immediately.

His whole body went still above her, one hand braced beside her head, the other still at her waist.

For a second, the room was only breathing.

His eyes found hers.

They were unfocused at first, then suddenly too aware.

He moved off her fast, wincing when his ribs caught the motion.

"Shit." His voice came out low. "Roxie, I’m sorry."

She sat up, chest still rising fast. "Hey."

"I’m sorry."

"Zac."

"I heard you. I stopped. I just..." He dragged one hand through his hair and winced again. "I got carried away."

"I know."

His face tightened. "That’s a terrible defense."

"It wasn’t a defense."

He stared at the floor.

Roxie moved closer but gave him space. "You stopped when I said stop."

"That is bare minimum."

"Still matters."

His jaw worked.

She reached for his hand. He let her take it, but his fingers stayed stiff at first.

"I want you," she said quietly.

His eyes closed for half a second.

Roxie squeezed his hand. "I really, really want you. So congratulations on being annoying about that too."

A weak laugh left him. She kept her voice lower. "But I want you here with me, not still on the field."

His smile faded.

"Not trying to burn through everything by kissing me until neither of us can think."

His throat moved. "Isn’t that half the appeal?"

"Zac."

"Yeah." He looked down. "I know."

The room settled around them, heavy and warm and quiet.

Roxie shifted until she sat beside him against the pillows. She patted the space next to her. "Come here."

"I should probably go."

"No."

His eyes lifted.

She held his stare. "I didn’t tell you to leave."

"I don’t want to mess this up."

"You’re already annoying, Prescott. The bar is low."

His mouth twitched.

She tugged his hand.

This time, he moved carefully, lying beside her on his back with a pained breath. Roxie grabbed the ice pack from where it had fallen near the blanket and placed it against his ribs again.

He stared at the ceiling.

She lay on her side, watching him.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Then Roxie said, "So you really skipped Mason’s party for me?"

Zac turned his head toward her. "Yeah."

"That’s stupid."

"Probably."

"Everyone is celebrating you."

"I was there."

"For like five minutes."

"Felt longer."

She studied his face.

He looked tired now. Less sharp. Like the adrenaline was finally leaking out of him and leaving bruises behind.

"You should want to be with them," she said.

"I did." His eyes stayed on hers. "Then I wanted to be with you more."

Her chest tightened.

She hated how easy that got past her.

"You’re going to make me like you," she said.

His mouth curved. "That would be embarrassing for you."

"Humiliating."

"Career ending."

She smiled before she could stop it.

Zac watched it like it mattered.

Then his face softened.

She thought about the field. His family. The photographer. His mother arranging him. His father standing there like a locked door.

Then another thought came, ugly and honest.

At least they had been there.

Her mother had missed Senior Night.

Her mother would have missed this too.

Her mother would miss anything that required her to care without getting something back.

Roxie hated herself for thinking it while Zac was hurting.

Zac noticed anyway.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Roxie."

She looked down. "Your family is awful."

His mouth twisted. "Yeah."

"But they came."

Zac went quiet.

Roxie wished she had kept her mouth shut, but it was already out.

She pulled at the edge of the blanket. "Forget it."

He turned toward her carefully. "Hey."

"It’s stupid."

"It’s you."

That made her look at him.

His voice was quiet. "That means it matters."

Roxie swallowed.

The room felt too still.

She gave a small shrug. "I just mean... mine wouldn’t have."

Zac’s face changed.

Roxie looked away first. "So when I saw yours there, I got mad for you. Then I got mad at myself because at least they bothered to stand there."

"Roxie."

"I said forget it."

He reached for her hand under the blanket.

She let him.

"They came for the picture," he said.

"I know."

"That doesn’t make what you said stupid."

She stared at their hands.

He rubbed his thumb once over her knuckles. "I would’ve wanted her there for you."

Roxie’s throat tightened.

That was enough.

That was plenty.

She moved closer before the feeling could turn into something embarrassing. Zac shifted onto his side with a careful breath, and she tucked herself against him, gentle around his ribs.

He kissed her forehead.

She hated how safe that felt.

"You won," she said quietly.

He breathed against her hair.

"You won," she repeated. "And Dylan knows it. Mason knows it. Kyle knows it. Coach Hayes knows it. I know it."

His arm tightened around her.

"I saw you," she said. "The whole game. You were scared and pissed off and hurting, and you still led them."

Zac stayed quiet for a long time.

Then he said, "Dylan went down."

"I saw."

"I thought his ankle was done."

"Is it?"

"Trainer said sprain. Maybe. They’ll check tomorrow." Zac exhaled.

"So you did."

"I had to."

"Yeah."

His voice got rough again. "The backup receiver looked like he was going to throw up."

"He caught it."

"Yeah."

"Because you made him believe he could."

Zac was quiet.

Roxie touched his chest lightly through his hoodie. "That’s the annoying thing about you."

"What?"

"You’re a walking ego problem, but people trust you for a reason."

His mouth brushed her hair, almost a smile. "That’s your compliment?"

"That was generous. Take it."

"I’ll frame it."

"Frame your ice pack."

He laughed softly.

The sound eased something in her.

The ice pack slipped from his ribs onto the blanket. Roxie reached for it, but Zac caught her hand.

Roxie looked up at him.

His eyes were half closed now. His face looked younger without the game in it. Still bruised by the night, still tense around the mouth, but calmer than when he walked in.

She settled against him and let him keep his arm around her waist.

He leaned in and kissed her, softer this time.

When he pulled back, Roxie’s eyes felt heavy.

The week hit her at once. Regionals. Practice. Work. Zac’s game. The screaming crowd. His body warm beside hers.

Zac noticed. "You’re falling asleep."

"No."

She tried to glare at him, but a yawn ruined it.

Zac shifted carefully and pulled the blanket over her. "Sleep."

"You’re staying?"

He went quiet.

Roxie opened her eyes enough to look at him. "Zac."

"I can sleep on the floor."

"You’re injured."

"Chair?"

"I swear to God."

His mouth twitched.

She caught the front of his hoodie in one hand. "Stay here."

He looked at her hand, then her face. "You sure?"

"Yes."

He nodded once.

They settled awkwardly at first because his ribs hurt and Roxie refused to kick him by accident. Eventually he ended up on his back, and she curled carefully against his uninjured side, one hand still caught in the front of his hoodie.

The house stayed quiet.

His phone buzzed once on the nightstand.

Then again.

Zac looked at it, then looked back at her.

"Mason?" Roxie murmured.

"Probably."

"You can answer."

"I’m good."

Her fingers tightened in his hoodie.

She should have said something sarcastic. Something about him being rude to his own victory party. Something about Mason crying into a bag of chips without him.

But her eyes felt too heavy.

The week hit her all at once. Regionals. Practice. Work. Zac’s game. The screaming crowd. His family on the field. His body warm beside hers.

Zac shifted carefully and pulled the blanket higher over her shoulder.

"Sleep," he said.

"I am awake."

"You are losing that argument."

"Shut up."

His mouth brushed her hair.

Soft.

Careful.

Roxie closed her eyes.

The last thing she felt was his hand covering hers against his chest, keeping her there like he had chosen this quiet over every loud thing waiting for him outside.