Page 24 of Forever Defiant
That was actually interesting. He had something to play for. I scanned the athletes already sweating and training on the field. “Which one is he?”
“Ninety-three.”
“Great,” I said. “Happy to meet him.”
He grunted and jerked his chin toward the field. “He’ll be finishing warm-ups. Don’t distract him.”
I was about to ask how someone could distract another just by existing when Coach Sutherland started walking, and I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to follow.
“I expect you to keep up,” he snapped, and I hurried after him. “I don’t like this,” he continued, not caring that I wasn’t beside him. “I don’t like you.”
Feeling’s mutual.
“But the dean wantsgoodpublicity. So this is how it’s going to go.” This time, he looked at me, and I wish he hadn’t. “You will only be in this building when the team is on the field. You will be supervised at all times. Anything you write will be seen by me first. Any questions you have regarding this program will be answered by me, only by me.”
“Would you like the feature to be on you?” I winced at my snark.Fuck’s sake, Hadley!
He stopped walking, and I had to turn back. I knew he was going to throw me out.
“Smartass comments?” He looked at me coldly. “Keep them to yourself. You might just last the month. Remember what I said.” He pointed toward the twenty-yard line. “Whittaker.” He turned and walked away.
“God above, Hadley, why not give him the rope to hang you with next time?” I said to myself as I headed over to the group of testosterone, currently being yelled at by a small, wiry-haired old man, who they all seemed terrified of.
“How the heck does anyone find this fun?” I asked myself as I approached.
Another coach, and I only knew that because he was wearing a polo shirt, shorts, and a ballcap, squinted at me. “You her?”
“Must be,” I answered, walking toward him. “Hadley Peterson.” I held out my hand, but he didn’t take it.
“Ninety-three,” he yelled right at me, and I jumped.
Jesus, they were all dicks. Why the hell did I think this was a good idea, again?
My eyes shifted past him to the huge wall of muscle jogging toward us. Freshman defensive end, my assigned player.
He was enormous. He was just... enormous. He blinked at me. I blinked back. We both looked equally confused.
“You’re... Peterson?” he asked slowly, like he wasn’t fully convinced I was real.
“That’s me,” I said, offering a hand. “Mike, right?”
Before he could take it, voices sounded behind him.
Loud. Familiar. Trouble.
Dustin Slater came into my line of sight, with the QB right behind him. They were laughing about something — until they saw me.
The laughter stopped. Their expressions changed quickly. Dante Spence’s to one of curiosity, and Dustin’s to pure oh-hell-to-the-no horror. He looked like he’d just choked on air.
Dante stepped forward, his eyes narrowed like I’d somehow personally inconvenienced him by being there. Before he could speak, Dustin spoke.
“Why are you here?” Dustin asked flatly.
The coach next to me didn’t even bother to hide his sigh. “She’s here for some profile piece. Cleared by the head coach and the dean.”
“Journalism?” Dante asked me, his gaze narrowing even more. “Youhave permission to be here?”
Yeah, buddy, I didn’t think I’d pull it off either.
