Really good. The match was intense. All the players knew what was on the line, and they were playing hard, not keeping anything in reserve. They weren't afraid to get injured—they were all hitting each other as hard as they could without getting thrown out of the game. By the midway point of the second half, Hanover Falls was up, one to nothing. That's when the right back came flying out of nowhere and slammed into Matthew as he dribbled the ball toward the goal. A two-footed hit in the box that meant a free kick. If it went in, it would come close to sealing the game.
Claire held her breath, curling her toes against the soles of her shoes. The adrenaline pulsing through her heightened her senses until she could hear Matthew's determined, nervous breath. The scent of tension—sharp, bitter—poured off the players on the field, strong enough to make her wrinkle her nose. Matthew took two steps back, squinting against the sun as he lined up for his free kick. There was a rip in the back of his jersey, remnants of the illegal hit he'd taken moments earlier.
Claire watched as intently as the rest of the fans. She'd never been really interested in a sport before she started dating Matthew, but the speed and athleticism of soccer appealed to her, and once she'd learned the rules, she cheered and hissed as loudly as any other fans, even when Matthew wasn't on the field.
Matthew shrugged one shoulder, and Claire gripped the cold metal of the bleacher as he ran at the ball. The solid thunk of his foot hitting the black-and-white sphere echoed across the field, and Claire—along with the rest of the crowd— jumped to her feet as the ball sailed past the goalie and swept into the back of the net. The free kick put Hanover Falls two goals ahead of Lawrence with twenty minutes left in the match. Claire sat perched on the edge of her seat, hoping they'd done enough to win. Willing it to be true. Her nose twitched and her confidence grew. There was no way Lawrence could make a comeback. Their players all reeked of exhaustion.
Claire watched impatiently as the time on the game clock ticked away. The sensation of a certain win swelled inside her, sending pinpricks of barely contained excitement into her hands and feet. When they entered the two minutes of injury time, she was on her feet, yelling with the rest of the crowd.
The referee's whistle sounded, signaling the end of the game.
Claire let out an enormous whoop and hugged the random girl sitting next to her, who hugged Claire back just as enthusiastically. She let go, turning to watch as Matthew celebrated with the rest of the team, slapping shoulders and getting cuffed on the back of the head.
He turned and caught sight of Claire. A grin spread across his face, and he jogged over to her. Claire climbed down the bleachers, stepping over people and purses, hoping no one noticed she was doing it a little more quickly, more easily, than a human would. Her feet hit the ground at the sidelines.
Heat spread through Claire's middle as Matthew came to a stop in front of her, smelling like clean sweat and grass and the sort of sweet-apple scent of happiness.
He scooped her up and swung her in a circle. "We did it! Can you believe it? We actually did it!" He set her down, leaned in, and planted a quick kiss on her lips.
His joy was so genuine and so all-encompassing that it wrapped around her, tight as his arms, filling her with a lemony-light giddiness. "Are you kidding?" She linked her hands at the small of his back. "Of course I can believe it. That free kick was absolutely amazing, Matthew."
"Thanks." He fidgeted with the hem of his jersey, looking uncharacteristically nervous. "I just hope it impressed the UCLA scout. I hope like hell he's writing the words "full ride" in there." Matthew's gaze flicked to the top of the bleachers, and Claire followed it. She spotted a man with an out-of place tan and an unnecessarily heavy jacket scribbling away in a leather portfolio.
Matthew blew out a long breath, his normal expression— calm and confident—returning to his face. "Anyway, I guess I just have to wait and see. No use worrying about it right now."
Claire grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. "It'll be fine. It'll be more than fine."
"You ready to eat?" Matthew asked.
Claire nodded. She was always ready to eat. Ever since she'd become a full werewolf, her appetite had been insane. She was also starting to feel antsy about getting into the woods—as the sun slid to the west, she could feel the seconds ticking closer and closer to her practice time.
"Awesome. Let me just grab a quick shower, and I'll meet you outside the locker room, okay?"
Matthew. In the shower. Claire's insides quivered.
"Sounds perfect," she said.
She watched him walk away, his cleats throwing up little clumps of dirt as he went. In her back pocket, her phone started chirping. Claire pulled it out and glanced at the caller ID. It was Emily.
"Hello?" Claire answered.
"Claire! Hey! So, is it over? Did they win?"
"Yep, and mostly thanks to Matthew." Claire heard the pride in her voice.
"That's awesome. Tell him I said congrats." There was a pause—it was tiny, but it caught Claire's attention. "So, I know you're doing the team celebration stuff tonight, but I wondered if you wanted to come over after? If the thing at Louie's doesn't go crazy late. You could spend the night, even."