Page 29 of Forever Defiant
“Yeah, probably. But spring training is in nine days. The media are descending on us soon. You think they don’t want to see us out there?”
He was right. Spring training was about trying new routes, adding to the playbook, and testing second-team players and freshmen to earn their spots on the first team. Dante was secure; he didn’t need to worry about his starting position next season. The rest of us — those who helped win the championship, like me, Moore, Noah, and a few others whose plays made a difference — had a bit more security too, but nothing in football is ever guaranteed.
“Yeah, I know,” I told them, bending down to take my cleats off. “We can be their show ponies, but I also want to impress.” I saw Noah nod. “This one feels like it’s more than spring training, you know?”
“It’s going to be a long five weeks,” Dante agreed. “Hey, Sav told me to let you know if you need any extra help with classes, she’s available.” He stood and grabbed his shit for the shower. He looked casually over the locker room. “I think we need to assume that they’re watching everything. She wants us to keep the tutoring to her and only her.”
“A good idea,” Noah said thoughtfully. “She doesn’t mind?”
Dante scoffed. “Nah, she wouldn’t offer if she did.”
“Tell her thanks. It’ll save Tate a drive,” he added with a smile.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Tell her thanks.”
Dante rolled his eyes at me. “Like you need the help.”
“Hey, the offer’s appreciated.” I checked to make sure I had everything needed for the showers. “Oh, and speaking of helping siblings.” I saw Noah’s look. “What, you think I don’t know Tate’s your little brother? Please. I listen.” He looked guilty. Good — he should. “You two are with me later.”
“Why?” Dante asked as we walked to the showers.
“Naya’s debate team is here; they’re having the first round tonight, and I have to go.”
“Yeah.Youdo,” Dante said without missing a beat.
“And as my best friend and as my bros-before-hosguys,” I told them both, “you do too.”
“Did you call your sister a ho?” Noah asked doubtfully, turning his shower on.
“No. Shut up.” I dumped my stuff on the side. “You’re both coming, end of.”
Noah opened his mouth, but Dante groaned. “There’s no point arguing with him,” he told him. “Just agree. Eat his peanut butter cups later in revenge.”
Noah cursed at Dante for outing him, but I was already too busy yelling at him. Our shit-talking and passing jabs at each other carried on all the way back into the locker room. The steam of the shower may have eased my muscles, but it was a sense of normality that eased the tension I’d been carrying for a few weeks.
“You three! Quiet down!” Coach Sutherland yelled as he passed, like he would any other day. “Worse than my goddamn kids!”
We fell silent, and then Dante started sniggering, and we joined in. The head coach glared at us, but it was a normal glare, like it was any other day in the locker room. He headed to his office, muttering about running extra suicides to shut us up.
The laughter carried on as we left the facility to head to class.
Chapter 8
Hadley
I didn’t expect the field to be this loud.
Or this chaotic.
Or this . . . sweaty.
I hadn’t noticed it yesterday; my nerves had been riding my senses then. But apparently, when you embed yourself inside a Division I football program, you accept that half your morning is going to smell like grass, rubber, testosterone, and whatever unholy mix of supplements the strength coach insisted the players chug at six a.m.
I stood on the sideline of the practice field with my notebook out, the spring sun warming the back of my neck. My assigned freshman — Mike — jogged onto the field with that wide-eyed, terrified energy of a kid trying not to die under Coach Sutherland’s whistle.
I liked Mike. He was polite. Quiet. Zero ego. A total cinnamon roll trapped in a defensive end’s body.
He was an easy subject. A safe subject. Fortunately for my sanity, he practiced on the other side of the field from Dustin Slater. The other guy, Noah, practiced with him, and, Jesus, was he easy on the eyes.
