Chapter 22
Dustin
I checked my phone again.
Still nothing.
I didn’t know how long it had been since I sent the text — ten minutes? an hour? five years? — but the silence clawed at my ribs like something caged that needed out, something I didn’t have a name for.
Just text me when you’re back.
It wasn’t a great message; I mean, it wasn’t even a good one. But it was honest, and the longer she stayed silent, the more it felt like I’d made a mistake by sending it at all.
Noah dropped onto a chair across the room with an exaggerated grunt. “You checking your phone again?”
“No.”
He stared at me. “You did it while saying no.”
I didn’t dignify that with a response. Smug bastard. I blamed him for my sending a shit message.
He stretched, hands behind his head. “Maybe her phone died.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe she’s driving.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe she saw your text, panicked, and threw her phone onto the freeway.”
I shot him a glare. “Not helpful.”
“Sorry,” he said, not sorry at all. “Just offering possibilities.”
I looked at my phone again. Nothing. Not even the hint of a bubble. No reply. No sign she even read it.
“Dust,” he said, softer this time. “Worrying won’t make her text faster.”
“Thanks, I’ll put that on a motivational poster.”
He snorted. “Do that. Put it next to your Live, Laugh, Lose Your Mind Over a Girl pillow.”
I grabbed the nearest object — a rolled-up sock — and threw it at him.
He dodged easily, laughing. “Good to see your accuracy hasn’t left completely.”
I set the phone down. Determined not to look at it again. Not that it mattered — I felt the silence anyway.
“Did Dante say when he was going to be back?” I almost, almost picked the phone up again to check, but the curl of Noah’s upper lip stopped me.
“He had two PTs to do, and they wanted him for media.”
“Feeling the burn of neglect,” I joked with him. “They always want the quarterback, not the ones who make the passes, the touchdowns. Or the guys holding the defensive line.”
Noah sniffed. “You think I’m jealous?” he asked with surprise. “Fuck no, he can do all the media days. I hate talking to the cameras. What if I’ve got spit on my face or something?”
I laughed out loud. It was such a stupid thing to think about that it cracked me up. Noah laughed too, and when we quieted, it was just two guys waiting for the next shoe to drop.
Noah glanced at me. “Wasn’t the plan to get through this, get drafted, and get out?” It sounded like something he’d repeated to himself so often it had become reflex. “Am I right?”
“Still is,” I said with a nod.
He gave me a look that said he wasn’t sure it was true anymore. “Maybe for me.” His voice was clear. He wasn’t accusing me of anything. “For Dante? Savvy’s already in it, getting deeper the more involved she gets with Hadley.” He stretched his legs out. “And the same for you now.”
“The same for me? How?”
“You’re going to stay in this because of her.”
I didn’t answer.
“And that’s fine,” he said, voice dropping. “I’m not judging. But if she keeps digging and you keep circling her . . .” He stopped. “What she finds determines how much trouble finds her. You know that, right?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“So, if you want to keep her safe,” he added, “then you need to keep her close.”
It wasn’t advice; it was an observation of the situation as he saw it, stated plainly. The way Noah did. No ambiguity.
“Get through this, get drafted, get out,” I told him. “That’s still my plan.”
He nodded once. “Sure.”
Neither of us believed me.
The door opened, and Dante walked in, phone at his ear. He hesitated, looking at us both, eyebrows raised.
“No, I’m here. Yeah, I just got in.” He paused. “The laughing, yeah, that’s them.” He paused, lips twitching. “Okay, tell me when you get back. Tell her to drive safely.”
Whatever Savvy answered made her boyfriend smile, and he said goodbye.
“What’s funny?” he asked, dropping his backpack.
“What’d they find?” Noah asked, sitting up.
Dante was at the fridge, getting some water. He held up an extra bottle and offered it to us, but we both refused. Shutting the door, he turned to us.
“I have no idea. They made contact,” he snorted as he uncapped his bottle.
“Like they’re FBI agents,” he scoffed. “Sav says she’ll tell us all together, so she doesn’t have to repeat herself.
” He sighed. “They found the girl, though, so that’s .
. . good?” His eyes flicked between Noah and me. “Is it? Is that good?”
I slouched down on the couch. “None of this is good.”
“I hear that,” Noah said with a grim nod. “So . . . more waiting?”
“Yeah.” Dante took the seat at the end of the couch. “How come neither of you got media today?” he asked. “If they ask me to walk them through the game-winning drive one more time . . .” He shook his head. “I don’t know whether to record the answers, or tell them to go watch the fucking tape.”
I grinned. “Pressure getting to you, superstar?”
“Shut the fuck up,” he mumbled good-naturedly. “Hey, what did Coach want you for?”
Fuck, I forgot about Brittany. No wait. That wasn’t right. “I forgot her name,” I mumbled absently.
Dante looked at me. “Who? Hadley?”
“No.” I frowned. “It’s my turn for a shadow,” I grumbled. “Hadley’s stupid viral video of her chasing me—”
“I don’t think it’s Hadley’s,” Dante corrected me. “I’m sure she didn’t want it online any more than you did.”
“You know what I mean.” I got up and got a bottle of water after all. “The viral fucking video — well, apparently every woman who’s ever dated me had commented on it.” I saw Dante fail to hide his grin. “And apparently that means I’m bad for PR.”
“Ah, so that’s why you’re not on media,” he said with an understanding wince.
“I’m still waiting to find out who ‘her’ is.” Noah reminded me. “What do you mean by ‘shadow’?”
“Oh. Some social media girl from PR, she’s going to . . .” I looked at them both. “Do not fucking laugh, okay?” They exchanged a look, then both nodded. I watched them suspiciously. “She’s going to fix my public image.”
Dante was the first to laugh. Noah joined in. I knew they were both dicks. “Yeah, laugh it up, assholes. She’s watching the whole team.”
Dante sobered. “All of us?”
“Yeah. Going to focus on spring training and the rest of the semester.” I flopped back down on the couch. “I can’t remember her name.” My eyes narrowed. “Starts with a B. She’s goth-like. No.” I thought about it. “She’s not goth. She’s, like, weird looking.”
“And you wonder why your past hookups think you’re a dick,” Noah murmured with a sly grin.
“Her hair is this dark black but not black,” I explained. “It’s, like, purple. But not. And she’s really pale. I mean, she’s really pale. And with the really dark hair, and her really big eyes . . .” They were both staring at me. “What?”
“How are you already on to the next one?” Noah asked me incredulously.
“What?” I looked at Dante, who was drinking his water. “I don’t want to bang her. Did you hear me? She’s creepy looking.”
“I heard you telling us about the shade of her hair in great detail,” Noah said dryly.
“It’s weird!” I protested loudly. “It’s dark, it’s purple, it’s neither, it was . . . interesting,” I added lamely. “I mean, she’s not ugly,” I conceded. “It’s just . . . you’ll understand when you see her.”
“It’s called hair dye,” Noah said patiently. “So she what? Does what Hadley was doing with Mike?”
I shrugged. “No idea. Dean Cole left us, and Coach stormed out—”
“Wait, why was the dean there?” Dante asked, suddenly interested in the conversation again.
“I think it’s his idea,” I admitted.
Dante pursed his lips. “He was there to approve Hadley,” he mused. “I heard Hembry tell one of the assistants that Dean Cole practically railroaded the head coach.” He tapped his fingers on his thigh. “Coach Sutherland got rid of Hadley, thanks to . . . well, you.”
“I resent that.”
“Resent it all you want, it’s true.”
Sometimes Dante’s delivery could use more finesse. “And now he’s putting . . . What’s her name?”
“I forgot it.” I racked my brain. I could describe every shade of purple in her hair, but I had no idea what her name was. That was the kind of self-awareness I would take to my grave. “Definitely starts with a B.”
“He’s going to say ‘babe,’” Noah said jokingly.
“Shut up.” I turned back to Dante. “Anyway, what are you thinking?”
“He put Hadley in there, now this girl. The dean wants someone watching them too.” He stood. “Or am I paranoid?”
“You’ve always been paranoid,” I answered automatically. “Why? Isn’t he, like, the head of all things?”
Dante gave me a flat stare. “Does he look like he’s winning against Coach Sutherland?”
“True.”
We lapsed into silence. Dante’s phone buzzed, and he exhaled loudly. “They’re back.” He got to his feet. “Well, almost back.” He cursed when he read the rest of the message, his attention switching to me. “Sav wants to bring Hadley here for an update. You good with that?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I’d tried for nonchalant.
Noah’s snort told me I failed.
* * *
Dante had gone to fetch the girls. His words, not mine. Fetch them, like they were wayward pets.
Noah had gone into his room to hit the books for thirty minutes; he had a test coming up and was muttering something about asking Savvy if he couldn’t get it by the time she came.
Which left me alone on the couch. Alone with my thoughts. So they were back, but I still didn’t have an acknowledgment of the text. Nothing. Fine. Whatever. The world was still turning, and the sun would come up tomorrow.
This was as clear a signal as any that Peterson wasn’t interested, and I was beginning to think that Dante was right in his assumption that she was trying to get an ‘in’ so she could pursue the story. Savvy had reached out to her; she didn’t need me anymore.
That was fine. I didn’t need the drama, and that girl was drama personified.
I got up off the couch and rapped my knuckles on Noah’s door.
“What?”
“Are you decent?” I asked through the door.