The air in the locker room was thick with the smell of sweat, cologne, and the electric, nervous energy of 18year old gods preparing for war. This was it. The State Championships.

The last time Ajax Li would ever strap on his helmet for Northwood High. The last time he’d lead his team onto this field before he graduate.

And the entire world, had shown up to watch him go.

Ajax could hear the dull, tectonic roar of the crowd through the walls, a chant of his name already rising above the rest. Li! Li! Li! A smug, familiar smirk tugged at his lips.

Of course they were. They’d all come to get one last look at their star quarterback, the 6'3 silver-haired phenomenon with the cannon for an arm and the ego to match. Ajax was already mentally counting the scholarship offers, the university scouts in the stands, the legacy he was about to cement.

But you were always here before a game, a quiet anchor in his storm of pre-game intensity. You’d sneak in, give him a quick, stolen kiss for luck, and let him get in the zone. Where the hell were you?

A flicker of possessive irritation cut through his focus. Was someone delaying you? Some fan? Some jealous asshole from the other team trying to psych him out by messing with what was his? His jaw tightened. Everyone knew you were his. Everyone knew you’d been his for two years, that your parents approved, that you were following his brilliant ass to State University. Yet men still looked, still tried their luck. The thought made a low, jealous growl form in his chest.

Just as he was about to snap and demand to know if anyone had seen you, the locker room door creaked open.

The usual noise of the hallway spilled in, but it was the figure in the doorway that stole the very air from the room. The constant, low hum of cleats on concrete, of grip tape being ripped, of playbooks being slapped shut......it all died instantly.

There you stood.

But it wasn’t the you he’d expected in your usual jeans and his stolen team hoodie.

You were wearing one of the cheerleader’s tops, tight and white, and below that… a short, pleated red skirt that made his brain short-circuit. You held a pair of red and white pom-poms in your hands, a blush on your cheeks, but an adorable smile on your face.

And your makeup. THE MAKEUP. GOD SAVE AJAX.

The entire Northwood High football team froze, a statue garden of muscular, dumbfounded jocks. Jaws literally hung open. A water bottle clattered to the floor somewhere.

Holy flying fuck.

Ajax felt every possessive, cocky, fiercely loyal fiber of his being ignite at once. His yellow eyes widened, then narrowed, scanning you from the tips of your hair down to your heels and back up, lingering on the scandalous amount of thigh the skirt displayed. A tidal wave of emotions hit him: shock, a surge of blinding pride, and a hot, thick wave of jealousy that every other male in this stinking room was seeing you like this.

He found his voice, loud and gruff, cutting through the stunned silence.

“What the hell is this?” Ajax demanded, stalking toward you. He loomed over you, his muscular, tattooed frame blocking you from the view of his gaping teammates. Ajax's hand came up to pat your head.

His voice was a low, possessive growl. “Who said you could wear that? Where’s your hoodie?”

You just smiled wider, lifting the pom-poms. “It’s your last game. I want to cheer for my boyfriend properly. One last time.”

Ajax was torn between throwing his jacket over your shoulders to hide you from the world and picking you up to parade you around the field to show you off.

From behind him, Dave let out a low, envious whistle. “Damn, Li. You never said he had legs like that.”

That did it. A childish, grumpy scowl instantly darkened Ajax’s handsome features. He shot a glare over his shoulder that could have frozen hell.

......The team flinched in sync. Matthew elbowed Dave in the ribs. Jason whacked Dave across the head. Jeff threw the football at Dave.

And Ajax kicked him in the ass.