Chapter 13
Dante
I watched her leave and had to stop myself from following her.
When I could no longer see her, I held back a sigh and turned back to the room, locking eyes with her father, who was watching me closely. His expression was granite — unchanging and intense, the kind of look that said, Stay the hell away from my daughter.
I knew I’d pushed it when I called him out on the way he spoke to her, but fuck him. Sav wasn’t a pet he could control, and he needed a reminder of that.
I raised my glass to him and then looked away, and met the gaze of John, the overly familiar art professor.
Professor Yates — asshole — watched me with something harder to define.
Not suspicion, exactly. More like . . . calculation.
For reasons I couldn’t explain, it made the back of my neck heat up more than the dean’s glare.
Had he fucked her? The thought arrived before I could stop it. I didn’t like what it did to my jaw.
“Jesus,” Noah whispered beside me. “You sure do like the tension,” he joked.
“You mean attention?” I asked, hiding my smile behind the curve of the glass.
“Nah, man, I meant tension.” He laughed darkly, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You keep glaring at him, and you’re going to bring attention to you both.”
“Which one?” I asked only half seriously.
Noah chuckled. “Never had you pegged for the possessive type.”
“What?”
“You know exactly what I mean,” he said with a smirk, not buying my bullshit.
I was possessive? I thought about it as I glanced at the professor again. Yeah, he could fuck right off.
“I don’t like the way he looks at her,” I confessed, surprising myself by telling Noah.
His eyes widened slightly, and I don’t think he expected it either. He nodded, draining his champagne. The perks of being twenty-one — he could at least have alcohol to numb this pain.
“Maybe you don’t like the way he looks at her, but it’s nothing as long as it’s just looking, right?” Noah turned away, so anyone watching wouldn’t know what he was talking about. He took two flutes from a passing server.
“It better just be looking,” I growled, and he smirked as we both heard the possessiveness in my voice. “Shut up,” I grumbled, then grinned when he handed me a champagne flute, knowing it wasn’t the sparkling apple. “Thanks.”
“Either way,” he said, and I watched him hesitate before he carried on. “Glaring at him draws attention to you both—” his eyes flicked to the dean — “attention that you don’t need.”
I forced myself to turn away. “You ready to leave?”
“I was ready to leave before we got here,” he grumbled, causing me to grin at his discomfort.
“I feel that.” I assessed him shrewdly. He didn’t say much, but when he did, it was worth listening to. Noah Matthews was a good guy. “You shouldn’t have taken all these months to talk.”
Noah shrugged. “I wanted to make sure it was worth my time.”
I laughed at his bluntness.
I caught Coach Sutherland’s arm as he passed. “We about done here?” I asked him. “Just saw the dean’s daughter call it a night, surely we can too?”
Coach Merriman, who was beside him, raised a brow. “What’s the rush? You’re working the room like a pro. They love you.”
“Yeah, but I’ve shaken enough hands and kissed enough rings for one night. Besides, I’ve got early film tomorrow.”
His chuckle was low, like he thought I was blowing smoke. Maybe I was.
Coach Sutherland’s gaze swept the room in one quick glance. “Don’t knock each other over in your haste to leave,” he muttered dryly.
“This is why you’re my favorite coach,” I said smoothly, setting my glass down on the table.
“I’m standing right here,” Coach Hembry joked from the other side of Noah. “And he does have film early tomorrow.”
Noah and I shared a few jokes with the coaches, but it was clear we were heading out, and a few other guys from the team came along with us.
Relief flooded through me as I stepped away from the group of benefactors.
The polished quarterback act had been suffocating all night, but walking away didn’t lighten the weight in my chest. Not with the dean’s stare still burning between my shoulder blades.
Not with the professor’s unreadable expression etched in my mind.
Not with Savannah’s golden silhouette still flashing like a highlight reel in the back of my mind.
“She really is pretty,” Noah murmured as he walked beside me.
“She is.” I didn’t bother denying I was thinking about her.
He paid attention, and there was no point in insulting either of us with a denial.
I also didn’t correct him by saying she wasn’t pretty — she was gorgeous.
That dress had accentuated every one of her curves, and I hadn’t liked how many other people had noticed.
Noah didn’t say anything else about her, and my thoughts drifted as my teammates and I left the event.
I took his advice and was careful not to draw attention to myself.
On the surface, I was my normal self — laughing at something someone said about one of the boosters smelling like mothballs — but inside, my mind was anything but quiet.
Savannah leaving like that . . .
Hell, I saw her leave. Couldn’t not see her go. The way she walked out, spine straight as if she owned the damn place, but her eyes . . . No way in hell she wasn’t just as torn as I was.
I pushed the thought aside, loosening my tie as if it was choking me. She wasn’t my concern. My focus was football — keeping my arm loose, my mind sharp, and my reputation as clean as the glass trophies in Coach Sutherland’s office.
Still, the image of her father’s stare made my jaw tighten. Dean Cole had looked at me like I was already guilty of something, and I hadn’t even touched his daughter.
Not tonight.
Someone was talking about wings and pitchers, with Noah chiming in about whether we could beat the rush because we left now.
I nodded along automatically, like a bobblehead on autopilot.
Noah was lobbying for food, and someone else was suggesting the bar across from campus, where half the cheer squad seemed to live.
But Savannah’s voice kept echoing in my mind. What do you want? The way she’d said it — half warning, half . . . God, I didn’t know. Concern? Curiosity? It pushed under my skin and wouldn’t let go.
By the time they decided on a bar, which included food and cheerleaders, I was ready to lose it. Half of me wanted to call it a night, bury myself in film, push her clean out of my head. The other half wanted to reach for my phone.
I told myself it was stupid, reckless, a distraction.
But damn it, I’d never been good at walking away when something — or someone — got under my skin.
Normally, I’d be all in. Laugh loud, order big, and make sure everyone saw their quarterback in the middle of it. That was the role. That was what people expected.
But my phone was burning a hole in my pocket.
I tried to ignore it, tried to ignore the image of Savannah’s stare as she slipped out of the ballroom like she was escaping a cage.
“Yo, QB.” Noah nudged me. “You in?”
“Yeah,” I said automatically. “Just . . . give me a sec.”
They kept walking, their voices fading ahead of me. I lingered by the corner of the building, thumb already scrolling on the screen. I stared at her contact.
I told myself I shouldn’t. She’d already gone home. Made her exit. The best thing I could do was let her go. But . . . she’d looked back. At me. As if she couldn’t leave without one last look. Or I was imagining it. I was probably imagining it. I should let it go. Instead, I typed.
Me: You didn’t even say goodbye.
Three dots blinked, then vanished. Blinked again. Finally, her message appeared.
Savage: Did I need to?
I smirked despite myself, leaning against the brick wall, as I typed my reply to her sass.
Me: I thought you were brought up better than that?
There was a long pause before her reply came.
Savage: It’s late, don’t you have anything better to do?
I looked up and could see the backs of my teammates, but I didn’t feel the need to follow them. Not right now.
Me: Where are you?
Savage: Dorm. You?
It would be stupid. It would be reckless. It wasn’t part of the master plan. But still . . . I wanted to flirt with her. I wanted to invite myself to her dorm. Actually, I didn’t want to invite myself; I just wanted to turn up at her door and see what would happen when she let me in.
Her father’s glare pierced my thoughts, reminding me why that was a bad idea. Her taunt in the bathroom, asking me what I was talking about on the phone, floated around my head like a god damn poltergeist intent on doing harm.
Me: Heading out with the team, see you next week
I pushed myself off the wall and followed my teammates. Noah had hung back; I hadn’t noticed, but I appreciated it.
“It’s fortunate Dustin’s family thing was on the same night,” Noah observed as we walked, filling the silence.
I shoved my phone in my pocket, once again appreciating the almost silent support from the linebacker beside me. “Yeah, at some point, one of our coaches will realize that he’s got a lot of ‘family things’ when it comes to events like tonight.”
Noah nodded in agreement. “They probably already clicked, but I suppose when you play as well as he does, things slide.”
I nudged him with my elbow. “You saying we play like shit?” I joked.
“Nah, man, I’m saying your family’s in Ohio, and mine’s in Nevada. Not a commute you can do easily in one evening.”
Did I know Noah was from Nevada? I don’t think I did. “Vegas?” I asked.
“Yup.” He scuffed his shoe as we walked. “Just outside of the main tourist trap.”
“You don’t look like someone who comes from Vegas,” I told him. I gave him an appraising glance. Noah looked like he’d been carved out of stone and then got pissed off about it. “Definitely a bouncer in a club in Vegas, though.”
He laughed out loud. “Thanks?” he said, holding his arms out in front of him as he examined his dark navy suit. “You can’t see me in the silver and black of the Raiders?”