Love Me Like A Champion
“That bloody curve?!”
Xander stumbled back with a small laugh, hands lifting instinctively as if to steady them all. His dark hair was damp, falling messily over his forehead. His jersey clung to his torso, number 9 bold against his back. He didn’t look like someone who had just ended a match. He looked calm.
“That was beautiful, mate,” the team captain said, gripping his shoulder. “Absolutely amazing.”
Xander exhaled slowly. “It was just instinct.”
“Just instinct,” someone scoffed. “You’re unreal, Savage.”