Chapter 9
Savannah
The steady hum of the grinder had become white noise, the soft spray of water keeping the glass dust from rising as I smoothed another shard into the curve I wanted. My shoulders ached, my hair stuck to my neck, and my goggles were fogging at the edges — but I didn’t care. Here, I could breathe.
When my hand started to cramp, I set the piece aside, pulled off my gloves, and reached for my water bottle. My phone was sitting on the bench, screen lighting up with a notification I hadn’t silenced.
A stupid mistake.
I thumbed it open without thinking and instantly wished I hadn’t.
Front and center on my feed was Dante Spence.
Not in the library. Not anywhere near the stack of readings I’d printed for him this morning.
No, he was in the athletic center — shirt clinging to him, ball in hand, grinning like the cameras were there just for him.
The caption: #QB10 putting in that extra work.
Fine. Extra practice wasn’t the end of the world.
Then I swiped.
The next post was from an hour later — Dante, and two others at a bar, drinks in hand, surrounded by people who clearly weren’t worried about passing an education policy midterm.
He wasn’t smiling for the camera anymore; he was smirking, that same lazy, too-charming look he’d used on me like a weapon.
Something hot and sharp curled in my stomach.
I yanked open our message thread.
Me: Thought you said you understood the concept of APPEARANCES
It took less than a minute for him to reply.
QB10: I do. This is team stuff.
Me: Funny, I didn’t see “team stuff” on the syllabus.
QB10: You jealous, Sav?
My teeth ground together so hard I thought I’d chipped a molar.
Me: I’m pissed, Ten. You told me you understood don’t bring attention to us
There was a pause — long enough that I knew he was typing, deleting, typing again.
QB10: Us? I’m in a bar.
Me: You’re supposed to be in the library!
QB10: Bitch at me later, you’re ruining my good mood
I almost replied. Almost told him to go fuck himself. Instead, I tossed my phone onto the bench, but the irritation stuck like glass dust under my skin, impossible to shake no matter how hard I scrubbed.
I shoved my phone face down on the bench, like that would keep him from getting under my skin any more than he already had.
I tried to get back to work, but the grinder’s hum couldn’t drown out the mental reel of him laughing at some bar while I was elbow-deep in a project I wasn’t even allowed to admit existed. Every time I picked up a shard of glass, I imagined it was his stupid smirk I was sanding the edges off.
After half an hour of that, my lines were crooked, my measurements sloppy. Professor Yates would’ve told me to pack it in for the night before I ruined the whole piece, so I did.
Back in my apartment, I went through the motions — but every time my phone lit up, I glared at it like it was personally responsible for all my bad decisions.
By the time I crawled into bed, I’d worked myself into such a state that I was practically rehearsing our next session.
Oh, hey, Dante, thanks for showing me exactly where your priorities are. Was the IPA worth tanking your GPA?
I flipped my pillow over and groaned into the cool side.
I had no plan to see him again soon. I’d given him a reading list for the week, which is what he should be covering in his study sessions; he promised he’d do so. Not to go and train more, or go to the bar.
Was tonight a one-off? Or would he fuck up again? Should I tell him my dad wanted me to report back to him, and the very fact that I had something to tell Dad might make Dante take me seriously?
The very idea of that made me nauseous, but if Dante messed this up for me, then I would throw him under the bus.
I sighed.
I knew I wouldn’t.
I just really hoped he had the same kind of integrity as I did.
However, knowing I could decide if I wanted to pull the one card I had on him — or keep it in my back pocket until I could play it for maximum effect — settled my nerves.
Either way, next time we met, he was getting it in the neck.
It could have been a one-off. He wasn’t a partier; I’d checked out his socials before our first proper meeting. I did it with every student I tutored. I wasn’t going to waste my time if they weren’t going to give me their time. Current pain in the ass excluded.
I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. My phone buzzed, and I reached for it, almost dreading what I was going to see on social media this time. It wasn’t a post; it was a text message from Dante.
Wrong.
It was a photo of Dante, half dressed — wearing nothing but simple dark sleep shorts — lying on top of his bed, holding up a textbook from his reading list.
“Asshole,” I grumbled, but I knew I was smiling.
QB10: You shouldn’t doubt me
“You’re still a jerk,” I grumbled, knowing I couldn’t send that. Then I thought, fuck it.
Me: You’re still a jerk.
Me: Start from page 53.
The dots came and went, and then I received his text — a saluting emoji.
“This will never work,” I mumbled to myself as I put my phone down and snuggled under my blanket. But before I went to sleep, I gave a chuckle at his relentless charm.
I wasn’t laughing the next morning when my dad sent me the screenshot of Dante in the bar with the question, I thought you tutored him on Tuesday?
“Fuck.”
My dad was always watching. Why had I forgotten that?
* * *
Yet another morning of me waiting outside the training facility for Dante Freaking Spence to wander out without a care in the world.
He didn’t see me; he was deep in conversation with one of the guys he’d been out with last night. It was the other guy, Dustin Slater who also played offense. He nudged Dante, and they both looked over.
I would have given money to hear what QB10 muttered as they walked over.
“Sav?” He ran his eyes over me. “Again? This is getting kind of stalkerish, don’t you think?”
Please God, don’t let me scream at him.
The other guy snickered, and I shot him a look that wiped the smile from his face.
“This is Dustin Slater,” Dante said. “He’s our star wide receiver.”
“Hi.”
Dante leaned in and mock-whispered. “That means when I throw the ball, he catches it.”
Dustin snickered again.
“I know what a wide receiver is, Ten,” I snapped. “You wear eleven, right?”
The guy smiled. His teeth were a striking white, not the artificial or naturally impossible pure white. They appeared even brighter against his dark skin. Like Dante, this guy was winning hearts whenever he smiled.
Like Dante, Savvy? Really?
“I need to talk to you,” I told the annoyance in my life.
“I sent you a picture,” he drawled, already prepared to brush me off. “I read the chapter.”
“You were out.”
He watched me with hooded eyes. “Now you’re my mother?”
“You said you’d be in the library.”
“I changed my mind.”
My eyes flicked to Dustin, who was looking between us in confusion. “Is this code for fucking?” he asked, his voice was light but curious.
Dante smirked and didn’t correct him. He turned to his friend and gave him a subtle nod. “Give me a minute, I’ll catch up,” he murmured. Dustin’s eyebrows rose, but he nodded.
When Dustin left us, Dante turned back to me, the smile gone. “What the fuck are you doing, Sav? Why are you bringing attention to us?”
I gaped at him. “I’m bringing attention?” I asked, my voice low with fury. “You’re on social media when you’re supposed to be getting tutored!”
“Jesus Christ, we already had this conversation,” he grumbled.
“Yeah, well, it’s not you who gets a text message from my da—” I drew myself up short when his gaze sharpened — “from the Academic Administration Coordinator asking if everything’s okay with my student. Because I told you, they monitor the sessions. I don’t make this shit up for fun.”
His frown deepened. “Your dad texted you about me being in a bar? What the fuck is that about?”
“Social media is public, Dante, especially yours.”
He looked past me, noting who was around us, and I saw the frown deepen. “This is bullshit,” he said, his tone clipped and firm. “Is that all?”
“You told me you were going to be in the library,” I muttered.
I didn’t think he’d answer. He looked like he was ready to walk away from all of it.
“Not that it is any of your business, but my roommate is new here, and he’s not settling in. I’m a nice guy.”
I felt bad, but I needed to stay firm with him. “Well, be a nice guy on nights that aren’t supposed to be mine.”
“Nights that are yours, Sav?” He leaned slightly closer. “I didn’t take you for being possessive . . . You definitely hide it well. What else are you hiding?”
Jesus . . . what was that stare? My knees had gone weak. What the heck was wrong with me? “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“How am I looking at you?” he asked, his voice a low, husky drawl.
Holy crap, was I sweating? I saw the glint in his eye and reminded myself who this was. “You’re being bad.”
Bad? Shit, Savvy, he is not the first hot guy you’ve ever stood close to! Get a freaking grip.
Dante’s smile was sly as he looked back at me. “You want me to be the bad guy for you, Sav? That what you like?”
I huffed in displeasure, hoping he didn’t notice he was turning me into knots. “I like you not flirting with me.”
He scoffed as he straightened. “Babe, please, you wouldn’t be complaining if I were.”
His cockiness was exactly what I needed to get back on steady ground. I smiled up at him. “You call me babe again, I will castrate you, we clear?”
Dante shook his head as he stepped back. “Go get coffee, or a donut, or something. You need to chill the fuck out.” He gave me a casual wave. “I’ll see you tonight.”
I’d turned to walk away when I looked back. “Tonight?”
The eye roll was unnecessary in my opinion. “You tutor me tonight in the library, remember.”
He walked away before I could clarify. I had no choice but to go to class. I sure as heck wasn’t running after him. Nevertheless, I pulled my phone from my pocket.
Me: Tonight?