Chapter Text
Football is a pretty contact heavy sport. Players throw themselves into each other with little regard for how they'll feel the next day, let alone how they'll make it to their Monday classes.
There's no way they'll recover from the tackles I've seen both teams take.
I wince as Bucky lands hard on his ass after a save, the impact sending dirt flying. A strange, unwelcomed tightness tugs at my chest. Was that worry? No, it had to just be my feelings toward the sport, I'm sure, nothing more. I shake the thought off quickly, dismissing the gnawing feeling before it settles in.
Despite the kiss, despite the fact that I'm wearing Bucky’s varsity jacket with his name stitched across the back, I refuse to acknowledge that there’s anything between us.
Natasha doesn't buy it.
She smirked the moment she found me at the bleachers, her eyes flicking over my borrowed jacket that matched the one she wore with Steve's name on it. Thankfully, she said nothing as she sat next to me, offering a popcorn she got from the concession stand.
"He's fine," she says now, watching me watch him. "Don't worry your pretty head too much. Bucky's a bit of a drama queen."
"I'm not worried," I mutter, biting my lip as I watch him dust himself off. He milks the hit for a few extra seconds as the referee checks on him before he jogs back into position, shaking off the impact.
Nat chuckles knowingly. "Of course you aren't."
Her arm drapes over my shoulder, pulling me in.
"Has football always been this rough?" I asked tearing my eyes away from Bucky just to prove I can.
"Yup," she says with a small smile. "Though I think it only gets harder to watch when someone you care about is on the field."
"I care about Steve," I argue, snickering.
"I know," she says, giving me a look. "But I think Barnes might be climbing higher on that list."
"Don’t know what you’re talking about," I say rolling my eyes and focusing back on the game.
The match ends in a win for our school.
Natasha wanted me to wait with her in the locker room so we could go out with the team to celebrate, but I insisted I needed to get back and finish my paper. She only let me go after making me turn on my location because of course, you can never say no to Natasha.
Maybe it had something to do with the opposite team being known as the school's rival or maybe because it was a Friday and most students didn’t have any plans. The bleachers earlier was packed/ Despite the packed turnout, the walk back to the dorm was quiet, a stark contrast to the roaring crowd at the stadium. Most students must have gone off to celebrate. The chilly night air sweeps over me, making me instinctively pull Bucky’s jacket tighter around myself. Reminding me of the owner.
It still smells like him.
Lavender, wood, spice.
Bucky.
A loud rumble of an engine shatters the silence. A motorcycle speeds past me before skidding to a stop directly in my path.
I halt, heart leaping into my throat, ready to chew out the reckless driver until he pulls off his helmet-Bucky.
Of course. Speak of the devil, and the devil parks his bike right in front of you.
He grins. "Told you I'd find you."
I cross my arms. "James."
His smirk grows at the sound of his name on my lips. He eyes me slowly, taking in the sight of me still wearing his jacket before he swung a leg over the bike to face me fully.
"Hi, pretty girl."
"The victory party's the other way."
"Yeah, but my girl wasn't headed that way, so..." He shrugs, as if that explains everything.
I scoffed before addressing him "Then you're in the wrong place, and I'm not your girl. Move."
Instead, he shifts the helmet to his other hand, stepping closer. "Come on, sweetheart. I scored the winning touchdown for you."
"Pretty sure you were just following your coach's orders."
I attempt to step around him, but he tugs lightly on the sleeve of his jacket, pulling me to him gently.
"Barnes." I glared at him, placing a hand on his chest for space. His shirt was wet underneath the leather jacket as if he rushed after a shower to look for me.
"Yes, pretty girl?" He tilts his head, eyes crinkling with a bright, lazy smile.
"I’m going home."
"Really?"
"Yup."
His gaze dips to my lips before flicking back up. The butterflies in my stomach riot against my will.
"I got a paper to finish."
"Do you now?"
"Yes," I say, but I don't step back.
He leans in slightly. "Can't even borrow you for one drink?"
"Nope."
His lips twitch. "Even if I say please?"
I close my eyes for a second, exhaling. "I'm gonna regret this, aren't I?"
Bucky’s grin widens.
I sigh. "Fine. One. Then I’m heading home."
He doesn’t waste a second. Smiling, he lifts his helmet and settles it onto my head before fastening the strap beneath my chin.
I frown. "Oh no. I am not getting on your death trap ride."
Bucky pouts like a child tugging something dangerously soft in my chest. "Come on, sweetheart. I promise it's safe." He extends his hand, palm up. Giving me a choice.
"I'd never do anything to hurt you," he says softly.
Something about the way he says it makes my heart lurch.
Goddamn him. I curse him and then myself in my head before I reluctantly place my hand in his.
His smirk returns as he helps me onto the bike. Before starting the engine, he reaches back to adjust my arms, making sure I’m holding onto him.
I cling to him tightly as the bike roars to life, his promise still lingering in the back of my mind.