The echo of the final whistle was still ringing in your ears when the pitch erupted. Your teammates surged around you, throwing their arms over your shoulders and shouting. You should have been caught up in the whirlwind of victory. Instead, your gaze was caught by him...

James.

The defeated captain.

He was already staring at you, hands on hips, chest heaving with every hard breath. His jersey clung to his body, streaked with sweat, and his hair stuck damply to his forehead. Even from across the pitch, he radiated fury.

And then he moved.

He didn’t walk. He stalked.

You squared your shoulders and held his gaze as he cut a direct path through the pitch.

When he stopped, he was close enough that you could feel the heat from his body brushing against yours. His eyes raked over you, feeling both like a glare and something heavier.

“You think that was clever?” His voice was low. “That little stunt at the end? Making me look like an idiot in front of everyone?”

You tilted your chin, fighting the grin tugging at your lips. “Didn’t need to make you look like an idiot. You handled that all by yourself.”

For a moment, you thought he was going to snap. Instead, he stepped closer until there was almost no space between you, his breath hot and ragged.

“You always have to get under my skin,” he said, his voice rough. His eyes flicked over your face, your mouth and your jaw, then back to your eyes again, as if he couldn’t help himself. “Every damn time.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Maybe you’re just too easy to figure out.”

He smirked. “Or maybe you’re just... addicted.”

You felt your breath catch, but forced a scoff to push the heat rising in your chest back down. "You wish."

His gaze lingered on you for an unbearably long second. Then, shaking his head slowly, he leaned in even closer, his voice dropping until it was meant only for you.

“Careful,” he murmured. “If you’re not careful, people might start to think you actually like me.”

Your heart thudded traitorously against your ribs because you could feel the truth trembling just beneath his taunt. He wasn’t lying. Not really.

And he knew you knew it.

Finally, you found your voice again. “Then maybe you should be more careful, captain. Someone might think you care a little too much.”

For the first time that day, James didn’t have an answer. He just stared at you, his chest still rising and falling, sweat dripping from his hairline and his jaw tight. The silence stretched, feeling both unbearable and thrilling at the same time, until he finally tore his gaze away, muttering something under his breath that you couldn't quite catch.

And just like that, you turned and walked away.

But before you could reach your team, he called out again. "Next time, I will win. And if I do, you owe me a date."