Page 12 of Forever Defiant
What had started as mild curiosity had turned into something else entirely. Slight suspicion stopped being a passing thought and simple curiosity had settled into my brain like a permanent roommate. The more I thought aboutallof it, the more things didn’t add up. And somewhere along the way, it stopped being ‘just a story’ and started becoming my lifestyle.
I’d turned into the girl who assumed the worst, asked too many questions, and absolutely, annoyingly, could not let things go. I was an angry, skeptical, cynical bitch, and I hated myself for it. I hated them for making me this pessimistic asshole.
And I’d beenworkingon it, I’d been working onmoving on. I wanted this degree, and I needed good recommendations so I could then become the journalist I dreamed of being. Because the truth of the matter was, there was always another story.
I’d beenletting it go.
And then the quarterback and the linebacker had a big fight in the parking lot, and the guys they fought were gone the next day.
Justgone.
How easily they were removed. How easily the story was quashed. A very harsh reality of how easily itcould have been meif Dean Cole hadn’t stepped in.
And instead of a reminder of why I needed to stay away, I was willingly stepping back into the lion’s den, pun intended, to see what else they thought they could handleeasily.
In a stroke of genius, if I did say so myself, and quite possibly the single greatest act of Academic Jedi Mind Trickery this university would ever see, I’d convinced my media professorthat covering the football program for my practicum would be a “valuable lesson in impartial reporting.” Which was my way of ensuring that if they’re going to try tosilenceme, I might as well take notes from the front row.
I just hadn’t expected the charm of Dustin Slater to be the first hurdle.
Or the second.
My plan had been to be more in control the next time I saw him.
No kissing first.
Talkingfirst.
But earlier tonight, while Dustin may not have known who I wasbefore, the linebacker definitely did. I wondered if it was a good thing that I was two for two in making Dustin Slater runawayfrom me.
Then he came back, and just as quickly, he turned and walked out with Miss Sephora Gift Card.
Fine.
Whatever.
I didnothave time to care about Dustin Slater and his rotating guest list of girls who say ‘literally’ as punctuation.
I still hadworkto do.
A story to salvage.
A professor to impress.
A program to expose.
I was in control. I just needed another guy on the team to connect with. The star quarterback? Not a hope in hell. Dante Spence was intimidating. The sexy, hot linebacker? Nope. Those eyes looked empty in a way that had nothing to do with being vacant. The wide receiver? That had failed. Epically.
I could do this. I just needed a target.
I stood, grabbed my bag, and took one last look. The two Lions players were still watching me — not subtle, not casual, notcurious.
No. This was monitoring. They weren’t scoping my ass or my attitude — they were checking mytemperature.
My threat level.
My willingness to play nice.
Which meant they already knew who I was. And probably what I’d done.
