Page 53 of Forever Defiant
“What the fuck is going on?” Coach Merriman snapped behind us. “Slater, you will not shirk practice for some girl.”
Dustin nodded, giving me a glance that blatantly said, ‘I told you so.’
“Yeah, Coach, I know that. I tried to avoid her, but, well...” He almost looked apologetic when he glanced at me. “You saw her chasingmeacross the field, right?”
Oh my God, he just threw me under the bus.
“Yes. We did.” The coach looked at me with disapproval. “Leave my players alone, this is college football, it’s serious. You want to fuck a player, fuck him on his time, not mine.”
My mouth dropped open, and around me, no one reacted. Which was somehow worse.
He started to walk away, then turned back to me. “And just so you know, every minute of their day ismytime.” He glanced at Dustin. “Move it, Slater. This one isn’t worth your time.” The coach’s whistle blew, and then he was barking for the offense to set up on the far field.
Dustin backed away, helmet dangling from his fingers, jaw tense. He shook his head once and then turned away from me.
“This conversation isn’t over,” I said, loud enough for him to hear me.
He glanced over his shoulder. “It really is,” he muttered.
Then he turned and jogged toward the team, leaving me standing there in the middle of the field — furious, confused, and way more rattled than I wanted to be.
Because Dustin Slater wasn’t just avoiding me, he was afraid of what I was going to find, and that meant I was closer than I realized.
* * *
“What do you mean I need to find a new assignment?” I demanded of my professor.
He was hunched over his desk, glasses low on his nose, stacks of papers forming little defensive walls around him. Helooked tired. Grumpy. Exactly like someone who didn’t need me adding problems to his day. In fact, Professor Flannigan looked ready to just give up at this point, and I didn’t like that I was the reason.
Again.
“You chased a player across the field demanding...” He looked horrified to say it. “Sexual relations.”
I gaped at him. “I didnot.”
He leaned back in his seat and shook his head. He took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hadley. Isawthe footage of you chasing the Lions wide receiver across the field.” His lips twitched. “Have you ever considered track?” he asked me, deadpan. “Girl, you didn’t even break a sweat.”
I flushed bright red. “He was running away from me,” I muttered. “Wait. They have film?”
He looked at me, eyebrows in his hairline. “Oh, they have film. Every social media platform has it.”
I cringed. “Does it look bad?” I shook my head; it didn’t matter. “Did they tell you why? Did they tell you what that disgusting coach said to me afterward?” Professor Flannigan gave me a look so weary, I sat down, slumping low in the seat. “There’s a story there,” I told him sullenly.
“There probably is,” he said with a heavy sigh. “But, Jesus, Hadley...” He blew out a breath. “We chase a story, we don’t literallychasethe story.”
“Coach Sutherland pulled the plug?” I guessed. Flannigan nodded. I propped my elbow up on the arm of the chair. My chin in my palm, heavy with defeat. “The dean agreed?” My professor nodded again. “Hard to argue a live stream,” I mused. I saw his lips twitch. “I found something, though.”
“No.”
He said it with such finality that I let it go... for now. “Did you ask Dustin? He would have told you I wasn’t seeking ‘sexual relations.’”
“Number eleven said you’ve been very forward since your assignment began.”
The rat bastard.
“I’ve beenforward?” I sat up straighter. “Forward?What the hell does that mean?”
My professor rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, Hadley, I think chasing him across the football field may be considered by some to be . . .pushy.”
