Page 284 of Playing Dirty

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Coach looked unconvinced. “Right.”

My phone buzzed in my bag before he could keep interrogating me.

I checked it automatically.

Rowan.

Coach saw my entire expression change in real time.

Oh no.

Absolutely not.

Coach leaned back slowly. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Jesus Christ.

ROWAN

I didn’t mean to text him.

Honestly.

But after Bennett’s feedback and three straight hours of editing, my brain was fried.

So:

Rowan:

Quick question.

Hypothetically, if someone’s professor said their work was emotionally repressed, should they fight her?

I stared at the message immediately after sending it.

Why did I send that.

Why.

Three dots appeared almost instantly.

Mason:

That depends.

Did the professor have a point?

Rude.

Accurate.

But rude.

Rowan:

You’re both terrible people.

The typing bubble cameback fast.

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