The Billionaire Jock's Game of Love

Taylor POV

The massive Kiss Cam screen is broadcasting my boyfriend Dylan kissing another woman in front of an entire stadium full of thousands of strangers.

The rush of shock, betrayal, and adrenaline echoes the roar of the crowd as I stand there utterly heartbroken.

If I didn't see it with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe that Dylan, my Dylan, would ever do something like this to me.

My fingers tighten around the cardboard banner in my lap—Cheers for Dylan.

Dylan is one of the football players tonight. He was immediately hired by this team after graduation, and it is his debut game as a professional football player.

As his girlfriend, I'm here to cheer for him. Only a few minutes ago, Dylan scored another touchdown, the entire stadium erupting in a chorus of excitement and cheers, but no one screaming louder than me as a fresh wave of pride washed over me for my boyfriend's talents.

Now during the halftime break, Dylan should be in the locker room resting for the second half of the game, not cozying up to some rich woman who looks like a model from a magazine. I have to admit, the woman had that perfect old money blonde hair, paired with a designer outfit to match.

"Taylor…What the..," my best friend, Kiera, gradually snaps out of her stunned state. "Are you kidding me? How could he do that to you?"

Kiera faces me with intense anger in her eyes. "You gave up that job interview today just to support this clown. And don't forget how you patched him up after every match or practice at school—wrapping his ankle, fixing his shoulder. You've been his biggest supporter since day one. And this is how he repays you?

My chest twists tighter.

I remember the first time I met Dylan back in the training room. I worked as a sports medicine student by cleaning his teammates' sweat and monitoring their injuries.

Dylan had a smile which had a mix of playful mischief and charm that made me believe everything he said without question. His jokes had me laughing in ways I hadn't laughed in years. Every touch of his hand and every look he gave me seemed to promise something I desperately wanted to believe.

I had fallen deep for him.

And now? Now, I've spent hours cheering, shouting until my voice is hoarse, even giving up a shot at the job I'd been dreaming about—all for him. All for this moment when I'm supposed to be proud. And instead… my chest feels hollow.

It takes a moment for Dylan and the woman to notice the camera or the cheers. A beat of nervousness washing over Dylan's face before some sort of resolve. The woman shoves Dylan away while raising her hand to hide her face.

Gasps ripple through the stands around me.

"Are they really that shy—or is this an affair?" a woman behind me said with a laugh.

"That's Dylan, right? The guy who scored today? That woman he kissed. I swear I've seen her somewhere before, but where?"

The crowd around us erupted in laughter, some were already digging to find out who this mystery woman was supposed to be.

"Honestly, I warned you about him." Kiera glares again at the VIP seats with anger. "You deserve someone way better than Dylan. You should break up with that loser, now."

Her anger pulls me halfway back to myself, grounding me in a way my trembling hands can't. I fumble for my phone. My fingers shake as I text:

Me: What's going on?

The reply comes faster than I expect, slicing me open.

Dylan: You saw it. Let's break up. I didn't know how to tell you.

Just like that.

I lift my gaze toward the VIP section. Dylan slides his phone into his pocket and reaches for the woman's hand. Like I'm nothing.

He then brings the woman back backstage with him. Like he used to do with me back when he played on his college team.

"What did he say?" Kiera asks while leaning a bit to look at my screen.

"How dare him…" Her voice shakes with fury. She shoots to her feet, causing her curly hair to bounce as she thrusts both middle fingers toward the VIP section. "Hey, Dylan! You're an absolute loser!"

The people around us don't know what's going on but start laughing. Kiera ignores them.

All the noise around me swells and presses in, suffocating me. The world tilts. My knees buckle.

Before I can collapse, a firm arm wraps around my waist, steadying me. His touch is solid, grounding, with heat radiating through the fabric of his jacket.

I look up, startled, and meet the jawline of a man who is impossibly handsome. Even with the hat shadowing part of his face, there's a spark in his dark eyes as our hands touch when he steadies me. It hits me then—he's the same guy who'd been sitting quietly beside me earlier.

I noticed him immediately while he was walking towards his seat next to me. Athletic build, steady presence. The baseball cap on his head shaded the rest of his face, obscuring the details, but even without them, I knew he was handsome enough to spell trouble.

The audience around us created a deafening noise, but he stayed completely serene while appearing to exist in a different world beyond the arena's wild environment.

He only tensed up a bit when the kiss cam screen was showing Dylan and the woman kissing. However, I was too shocked to care more about his reactions after that.

"You okay?" His voice remains steady and controlled as he speaks with a calm tone that does not need loudness to gain attention from others.  

I swallow hard while my heart races before I force out a weak "Y-yeah… thanks."

He studies the banner while his face becomes more and more stern. "Dylan? You support him?"

"N-no I'm-" I cleared my throat and tried again determined to make my voice sound as steady as the certainty I felt in my heart "I'm not. Not anymore… Truth be told, I now hate the bastard."

I knew this man would know it was the kiss cam that had upset me, and I didn't want to look like some delusional fan girl upset that her favorite player hadn't noticed her. But I didn't exactly want to own up to being the jilted lover who just got publicly cheated on either, so…

I opened my mouth to say I was a friend of Dylan's ex, but before I could, there was a minor pick up of the crowd. All eyes on us as the massive kiss cam screen locked in on the handsome stranger holding me, as if we're some star-crossed lovers caught in the moment.

The man next to me stiffens while he moves away from me, and his lips form a shape that suggests he wants to deny the situation by giving an explanation about our relationship status.

But something reckless surges through me. The image of Dylan kissing that woman blazes behind my eyes.

And then it clicks—he's probably seeing this at the backstage, right now.

Before the stranger can speak, a sudden wild impulse takes over my body. I reach up, cup his face, the rough scrape of stubble grazing my palms, and lean in.

My lips find his, silencing whatever words he might have said.