Crossing Lines Chapter 94

**Noah**

How fucking blind was he? I told him I wanted to be with him, I’d made a point of being close to him, and it hadn’t even been my damn idea to come to this party. I got it—yeah, I needed to be accepted, needed to bond with the team, blah blah. And I did. I *really* needed and wanted that.

But still.

I’d risked being called a faggot by my teammates—and worse. After all, Miguel already knew my secret. But still, like an idiot, when a beautiful, popular girl came at me and put me on the spot, I’d gone running to him. And what did I get? Him pretty much making it clear I had a choice to make.

God, did he not see I’d already made a choice? I chose *him*.

Or maybe he knew I had, and he just wanted to make sure I understood what that meant. That I was willing to go the distance. And I obviously knew what it meant to be caught with my coach. Or I thought I did.

I mean, what was the worst that could happen? People knowing we were together? Teammates teasing me, locker-room jokes, girls not lining up anymore? So what? And for Aiden—what could happen? He’d have to prove it was consensual, which I’d happily shout from the rooftops. That I was over eighteen—which I was… That was it, right?

So I asked him, desperate. “How would I be throwing it all away? What’s the big deal?”

And his answer, even though it wasn’t the first time I’d heard it, hit me differently this time.

He said, steady and cold, “We’ve gone through this, Noah. I’m your coach. That makes it abuse of power in their eyes—even if you beg me for it. I’d lose my job, my career, my name. And you? You’d lose the team’s respect. Scouts would call you a distraction. A liability. No matter how good you are, they’d say you only got here because you were in my bed. You will be the whore, instantly devalued by everyone, everywhere. And legally? It doesn’t matter that you’re over eighteen. Colleges have rules we have both signed—coaches can’t sleep with players. It is against the law. If this ever came out, it would end both of us.”

It felt like a punch straight to the gut.

“That’s the big deal,” he finished. “It’s not just a game we’d lose. It’s everything.”

And that’d been it. I’d been left with the decision. A decision that didn’t just involve me but both of us. Granted, whether I went for a damn walk with Lexie or not wasn’t going to instantly brand me as gay and Coach’s fuck-boy. But eventually, something would.

And if we could never be together while we were both under contract, and for as long as our careers lasted, then what the hell were we even chasing? Secret sex in the showers, the basement, dark corners of the club? Weekend escapes with Aiden and weekday silences, sneaking glances across practice fields?

My chest ached. Confused. Torn.

Lexie probably thought I drowned in the toilet bowl by now. Maybe I should’ve stayed there.

But when I stepped out, she was standing across the room talking to a group of girls. She looked up, caught sight of me, and giggled. “Noah! Where were you? Ready for that walk?”

Shit.

“Yeah,” I muttered, forcing a smile.

We slipped out into the night, circling the gardens, the campus grounds lit with strings of party lights. She slipped her arm through mine, leaned in just enough to make my pulse pound.

“You were incredible today,” she said, eyes bright. “My dad was seriously impressed. He came to the game and couldn’t stop talking about you.”

“Really?” I asked, half-flattered, half-nervous. “I’m glad you guys enjoyed it.”

“He’s a huge fan,” she said. “And he wasn’t just impressed—he was shocked. He said you’ve got something special. He even mentioned private sponsorship. He knows people who’d be dying to meet you.”

My stomach dropped. “Wait. Seriously?”

She nodded, smiling like it was the easiest thing in the world. “I was waiting to tell you away from the others. He’s hosting a party next week—very private, very important guests. He wanted me to invite you.”

I stared at her. Flattered didn’t even cover it. Opportunities like that didn’t just fall in your lap. They changed everything.

“Thank you,” I said, voice low.

She touched my arm softly. “I just think you’re great, Noah. You’ve got an amazing future, and I want to see you get there.”

Her words twisted in my chest like a knife. This—this was what I’d always wanted. To be seen. To be recognized. To have a real chance to make it, to finally be able to help my family, get my sister out, make something of myself.

And it should’ve been with Aiden. No one else.

By the time we circled back toward the dorms, we stopped on the steps overlooking the campus, lights and laughter spilling out behind us. Lexie turned, her hair brushing my arm, her perfume wrapping around me.

And before I could think, she leaned in and kissed me.

She kissed me, and I kissed her back—cool on the outside, dying on the inside. Christ, what kind of quarterback was afraid of a girl and a kiss? My heart was pounding like I’d just sprinted a hundred yards, not from passion but from pure panic.

Hoping to steer us away, I pulled back just enough. “Should we go back? Grab another drink?” Please, God, let her say yes. Maybe she’d drink too much and head home. Maybe I could.

Instead, she slipped her arm around my waist, her voice low and easy. “Maybe you could invite me over instead?”

*Fuck*.

Why were girls so damn forward these days? Did nobody get raised the right way anymore? Suddenly I wanted to bolt back to the bathroom, shove my phone in my hand, and make Aiden forbid me from touching her. Like he had that once. But then again, it was in his contract—no thirds.

And hadn’t he told me to take the fucking walk? Everyone knew walking away during a college party was code for sex.

My throat went dry. Okay, fine. One drink. We’d sit, we’d laugh, maybe she’d get bored, and I could escape without wrecking everything.

I forced a grin. “Let’s grab a drink first. Then I’ll give you the grand tour.”

We made it back inside, her arm still looped around me like I’d already agreed to everything. My head was buzzing—not from beer but from the sheer insanity of the situation.

Up the stairs, down the hall, and then we were in my room. She glanced around, eyes catching on the mess—playbooks, notes, football gear scattered everywhere.

“Wow,” she teased, picking up one of my notebooks. “Very glamorous, QB. Should I be impressed or worried you live like a caveman?”

I laughed, rubbing the back of my neck. “Hey, I’m organized… in my own way.”

“Uh-huh.” She smirked, setting the notebook down before plopping herself right on my bed like she owned it.

“Careful,” I said, grinning nervously. “That’s premium Wolf territory.”

She leaned back on her elbows, eyes glinting. “Guess I’ll have to pay the toll, then.”

My throat went dry.

Before I knew it, she was leaning in again. Close. Too close. Her boobs were pressing together, almost brushing my chest, and damn, I was definitely not gay. Apparently bi, but not gay for sure. The physical attraction was there, strong as ever, and my cock involuntarily twitched inside my pants. 

She probably noticed because when her lips brushed against my ear, there was no mistaking it—this wasn’t a party joke or a flirty walk. This was an invitation. A promise.

I froze, caught between the burn in my chest and the heat between us, knowing exactly where this could go if I didn’t stop it now.