What the hell.

You were wearing a different last name on your back. Publicly. In front of probably millions.

His cold icy blue eyes found you in the crowd of people as he sat on the bleachers waiting for his in.

His jaw clenched and he couldn’t help but glare at the number and name written on your back.

it wasn’t him.

Sure it was on the same team, but not him.

When the game ended he quickly walked through the field, ignoring his teammates while he made a beeline towards you.

Once he reached you he tugged you by the back of your shirt, scowling.

“This isn’t my last name.”