Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 125

Chapter 125

Noah

The first week of college was finally behind me. Well, sort of. My new class schedule was an absolute jumble—like someone had deliberately stacked my classes back-to-back just to make my life miserable. But somehow, I was managing to get through it. Barely. Aiden had made sure of that by assigning me a tutor. A tutor. Like I was some kid struggling in middle school. Okay, maybe I did need help, but still—it felt a little humiliating.

Between classes, hitting the weight room, and practice, I barely saw Aiden outside the field. And that sucked—literally the only thing that did—because since that donor dinner, I hadn’t had the chance to be with him like I wanted. Believe me, I’d tried. I hung back after practice a few times, dragging my feet in the showers, hoping he’d “check in” on me. Nothing. I even tried to catch him between classes. “Coach, your office has a lock, and only three people have the key, so… what are the odds, right?” I said, trying to sound casual. He didn’t even flinch. Just gave me that sharp look and said, “Focus, Blake.”

Focus, my ass. I was about ready to burst. I hadn’t even jerked off since that night. Some insane mix of loyalty, obedience, and masochism was keeping me in check—probably all three at once.

Meanwhile, the girls in my classes weren’t shy at all. More than one offered to “help me catch up.” With studying, they said. Sure. One even suggested she could help me “relax.” I smiled, shook my head, muttered something about being busy, and bolted. God, girls these days.

And the worst part? I actually wanted it. Not from them—only from him. I’d never been so desperate to get on my knees and choke on someone’s cock in my entire life. I knew how pathetic that sounded, but it was the truth.

Practice was the only place I saw Aiden. As brutal as ever. Every drill felt like a battle, every whistle like a gunshot. He pushed us to the absolute limit, like the first game wasn’t just important—it was life or death. Maybe for him, it really was.

But if you asked me? We were ready. More than ready.

All that cockiness and confidence vanished by Friday, though. The first game of the season. The first time playing under the stadium lights, with a crowd watching, waiting to see if we were the real deal or just another disappointment. I could tell everyone was nervous—guys pacing, bouncing their knees, talking way too fast—but beneath it all, we were buzzing, practically vibrating with energy.

Me? I was ready to go, full of adrenaline, but my stomach was doing flips like it was training for the Olympics. A lot was riding on tonight. I didn’t just have to play well—I had to shine. Like a goddamn spotlight.

Aiden stood in the middle of the locker room, his suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, eyes cold and hard like steel. When he raised his voice, the entire room fell silent.

“Here we go, team!” he barked, pacing the circle. “This is where it all starts. Tonight marks the beginning of our unstoppable march to the championship, and we’re going to start strong. No more talk. No more doubts. You’ve put in the hours, the sweat, the pain—and now it’s time to take what’s yours. Out there. On that field.”

The room erupted with noise—helmets banging against shoulders, hands slapping backs.

“We’re not just going to play,” Aiden growled, pointing at each of us one by one. “We’re going to crush them. Rip through Eastfield’s defense like it’s nothing, because they don’t know what’s coming. They don’t know you. But after tonight—they will. And they’ll remember.”

“Hell yeah!” someone shouted. The noise hit a fever pitch.

“Let’s go!” Miguel pumped his fist, shouting over the chaos.

We slammed our arms together, locking in tight, shouting and jumping, the chant rising and echoing off the walls until it felt like the whole building shook.

Then Aiden stepped back, his voice dropping to a lower, more dangerous tone. “Play like men who refuse to lose. Leave nothing behind. Do it for yourselves. Do it for each other.” His eyes locked on mine for a moment longer than necessary, like he was daring me to forget those words.

***

4:53 p.m.

When Aiden moved aside, our captain, Jace Kenzie, stepped forward. His pads creaked as he shifted, helmet tucked under his arm, voice booming with confidence.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Noah, what are you doing? This isn’t the time—” He started to move toward me, already slipping into lecture mode.

I didn’t let him finish. I crashed into him, kissing him so fiercely that his words died against my mouth.

For a moment, he resisted. I thought he might push me away, throw me out, call me crazy.

But then his hands gripped me hard, shoving me against the wall. And just like that, he kissed me back—hungry, furious, devouring. My fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling and yanking, not caring if it wrinkled or tore. His mouth tasted like mint and the control he was losing.

Outside, the sounds grew louder—the team shouting, boots stomping, the chant spilling down the hall. My pulse spiked. They were leaving. Any second someone could notice we were gone. Any second someone could try this door.

Aiden broke the kiss, breathing hard, his eyes locked on my swollen lips like he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to kiss me again or kill me. “You’re crazy, Noah. People will notice—”

“Then let them,” I smirked, grabbing my helmet and sliding it on until my face disappeared behind the visor. I snapped the chin strap into place, hiding every trace of what we’d just done.

“See you out there, Coach,” I muttered, pushing the door open.

Helmet snug on my head, I ran out with the team, the stadium lights blazing down, the roar of the crowd shaking the ground beneath my cleats. My lips still tingled from Aiden’s kiss, hidden behind the facemask, a secret pressed close to my skin. No one could see it. No one knew.

But as the chants rattled the bleachers and the noise swallowed me whole, I had the strangest feeling—like someone out there did.