Page 41 of Forever Defiant
“Don’t. I’m not.” I drained the rest of my drink, leaning back into the chair, and I pulled my foot up to rest on my knee as I watched her.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining bright, her lips slightly parted. She looked good enough to mess up, good enough to enjoy doing it too. A phrase flickered in my head, something that would be whispered in the dark when she was on her knees, taking my cock the way I chose to give it to her. I pulled that thought back, but not quick enough; I saw her register my interest.
And I saw her reach the wrong conclusion.
“I knew who you were in the bar.”
I nodded, noting the slightly spiteful way she said it. Did she think telling me she targeted me on purpose would surprise me?
I brushed it off. “Most people do.”
It worked — her temper was rising. “Your ego is, truly,trulyoff-putting.”
I stood up, picked up my empty mug, and leaned down over her, appreciating the way she moved back, futilely trying to put distance between us.
“Peterson, you need to be a better liar for the career you’re chasing.”
Her light brown eyes glared at me in defiance. “I can lie when I need to.”
I leaned closer, and she didn’t move back. Our lips were closer. “Good, remember that. You’re going to need it.”
She opened her mouth to ask what I meant, I was sure of it. I straightened before she could.
“Enjoy your seminar, Peterson.”
I didn’t look back, but I did leave thinking the coffee shop was exactly what I’d needed tonight. Now I could go home, relax, and play someMadden.
Because I’d proven one thing this evening — Hadley Peterson did not rattle me.
Or maybe she wasn’t the only good liar in the room.
Chapter 11
Hadley
I wasn’t supposed to be here.
Nothere, here — like, inside the facility. I’d been given access for my assignment. That part was fine. But this particular room? The one tucked behind the athletic office with filing cabinets older than my parents and a printer that sounded like it needed to be read its last rites? Yeah. This room hadn’t been on the official tour.
Mike had run off to grab a protein shake before film, and I had ten minutes to kill. Ten minutes is enough time to get coffee, scroll TikTok, reflect on life choices... Or, if your name is Hadley Peterson and you have a serious desire to push the boundaries, it was enough time to apparently wander into a storage room full of old paperwork that should’ve been shredded a long time ago.
I knew this office was here. One of my ‘old’ sources had mentioned something about the paper archive, and ever since, I’d been itching to get a reason to get inside this building and into this room.
I told myself I wasn’treallysnooping. My introduction to football was seriously lacking, and all I wanted was a ‘cheat sheet’ on what the heck spring training actually meant and what the point of it was. They had media coverage, but they only played against each other on the team? Who the hell was tuning in to watch that?
So instead of saying that to Mike, because the poor guy was actually a decent human being, I was ‘immersing myself in the experience.’ Or if asked by Head Coach Sutherland, I’d say it was ‘understanding the ecosystem.’ If the dean asked me, it wouldbe ‘collecting context.’ In truth, it was snooping to find out what this shady-as-shit program was hiding.
My intentions had been good.
They really had been.
I’d been here for four days, trying to learn what this was for Mike’s sake, because he worked way too hard to be someone who didn’t get to play football. But when I found this little room actually did exist, and I saw all the filing cabinets still full of paperwork, my fingers itched.
A cabinet labeledSpring Trainingcaught my attention; it felt like a sign from the gods.
I flipped through a stack of old spring roster packets, searching for anything about defensive ends so I could make Mike seem more than just a ‘freshman who breathes loudly when nervous.’ I wanted to have my cover ready in case I got caught. Before the real digging started.
What I did not expect to find so quickly was a name violently scratched out with so much pressure that the paper had nearly torn. Everything inside me froze, and as my fingers hovered over the scratched-out name, my mind shouted at me to pretend I hadn’t seen it.
