Chapter 32
Savannah
We walked up the stairs in silence, and he stood patiently, leaning against the wall as I unlocked the door to my apartment.
I knew Bev was still at the party. I’d texted her when I agreed to go for coffee with Noah, and she’d replied on the way here to tell me she was with friends and still there.
I think my roommate was hoping not to come back tonight.
Still, I didn’t want her to walk in and see the Lions QB in the living area, not with the way she reacted to Noah.
“My room?”
He nodded and crossed the apartment like he’d been here a hundred times before. I followed him, unsure if the intimacy of my bedroom was the best idea, but it was the only alternative.
Dante took the chair at my desk, leaned back, and stretched his legs out.
“Are you going to speak?” I asked, taking off my leather jacket and hanging it up.
“You and Noah were going for just coffee?”
I blinked. That hadn’t even been me trying, and he was already jealous.
“Yeah, he invited you too,” I told him, sitting on the edge of my bed. “Remember?”
“Did I ruin your plans?” His look was cold, but I could see the fire behind the cool stare.
“No.” I pulled off my boots and took them over to the closet. He tracked my every movement until I was back on the bed. “It was nice that you wanted to come, you know, after . . .”
“So you don’t want to fuck Noah?”
Fury rushed up inside me, but I knew that’s what he wanted, and I had to force myself not to react and play this out. “Well, I’m not really a promiscuous person, and considering it’s only been a few days since I had sex with you—”
“Too soon?” Dante grimaced in consideration. “How long before you decide you want to?” His hands flexed into fists at his side.
“Want to? Want to what?” When he said nothing, I let out a small huff of disbelief as I realized what he was asking. “I am not sleeping with, nor do I intend to sleep with or have sex with, Noah.”
“He thinks you’re hot.” Dante wasn’t blinking as he watched me. “You think he’s hot, so . . . there’s obviously something there.”
Noah thought I was hot?
“I think Jacob Elordi is super sexy,” I told him, anger leaking through. “I’m not going to sleep with him either.”
Dante sniffed. “Why? Jacob Elordi? I think I would.”
I grinned and saw the ghost of a smile on his face. “I’m not interested in sleeping with Noah,” I told him seriously. “And your friend isn’t interested in sleeping with me either. Okay?”
Dante shrugged, his attention moving to my desk. “Who asked you to go to the party?”
“My roommate,” I told him honestly. “She’s released her inner slut.” I saw the sharp look he gave me. “Oh, that’s a direct quote from her,” I told him. “I’m not being a bitch, that’s what she said.”
“Did you leave her alone?” he asked me with surprise.
“No, she found friends. Noah turned up just about the same time as she saw them, and she joined them, and then you joined Noah and me.”
“Me and Noah,” he corrected softly. “But that doesn’t explain how you got in.” He saw my guilty look. “The doors were open?” he guessed.
“Yes.” My reply was sheepish, and I watched as he pulled out his phone. His thumbs were quick across the screen. I didn’t envy whoever was getting that text.
Dante put his phone back in his pocket and looked at me. “So?”
“I’m sorry I accused you of being in on it.” I came right out and said it. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you my dad wanted me to report to him.” I shuffled up the bed until I was leaning against the wall. “I’m . . . I’m just sorry.”
“And.”
I shook my head a little, not understanding. “And?”
“This afternoon?”
I let out a sigh. “Your coach is a dick, did you know that?”
“I found out recently.” He sounded bitter. “What was it about?”
The heater rattled against the wall, the only sound in the room besides the sound of us breathing.
Dante sat sprawled across the chair by my desk like he owned it, hood pulled back, one ankle balanced on his knee. He looked like he could’ve been anywhere else, but his eyes tracked me every time I shifted.
“He said . . .” I swallowed. My father’s voice had been bad enough. Coach’s had been worse — cool, clipped, warning without sounding like one. “He said you were the quarterback of the Alabama Lions, and that practice and playing come first, no distractions.”
Dante didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. He just leaned back farther in the chair, hands lacing behind his head like I’d just told him tomorrow’s weather. “That all?”
“He asked if we understood each other.”
“What’d you say?”
I looked down at my lap. “I told him that I knew you were in danger of failing a class and in doing so, you would be ineligible to play, so therefore I was exactly the distraction you needed.”
Dante couldn’t hide his smirk as he ran his hand over his hair. “Damn, you have balls, Savage.”
I smiled a little as he looked at me in appreciation. “I don’t think I should have been so rude, but the way he looked at me, he’s kind of intimidating.”
Dante grunted in agreement. “He’s reminding us all he’s in charge.” His mouth curved, but there was no humor in it. “As if we ever get a chance to forget.”
I didn’t know what to say, but Dustin and Noah were worried about him, and so was I. Especially after his coach fixed me with that dead stare.
“I watched a little of your practice,” I told him quietly. “You were ready for a fight today, or at least you looked like it.”
“Well, it fucking sucks to know that a program you believed in is a pile of shit.” He looked away from me.
“There is shit,” I agreed. “But that doesn’t mean everything is corrupt.
You won that championship fair and square.
I’ve looked at your academic records; your GPA got you here as well as your skills with a football, before they got their claws in you.
” I let that sink in. “I told you from the first time we met that I knew you didn’t need a tutor.
So—” I looked away — “You got here on your own.
So did Noah. So did Dustin. Don't let their shit touch that.”
He was watching me but said nothing.
“I mean, do you know how smart Dustin is?” I asked him. “He’s straight A’s. Noah’s—”
“Mostly B’s,” Dante answered. “He told me.”
“And you are a mix of both, except for one crappy class,” I reminded him. “You don’t need to let your coach, my dad, and their shitty ways touch you, Dante. You guys are doing it yourselves.”
“And how many of my teammates aren’t?”
I broke the stare. “I don’t know.”
“How come you’re so fearless when it comes to everything but telling your dad you want to do art?”
I looked at him sharply at the unexpected change of subject. “It’s just a hobby.”
“Really?” He shrugged. “So why the secret?”
“He doesn’t . . .” I blew out a breath. “He thinks hobbies are distractions.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Too many people saying your name together with the word distraction, if you ask me.”
“Well, we’re not talking about me,” I reminded him, shifting uncomfortably. “You can’t be so volatile like you were today,” I blurted. “You can’t make yourself a target. Is this what the fight the other week was about?”
Dante gave a half shrug, and I felt the panic in my chest thumping against my rib cage.
“I’m scared for you.” The confession ripped out of me, louder than I intended, my voice cracking at the edges. “You act like none of this matters, like you’re untouchable, but you’re not, Dante. One wrong move and you could lose football, you could lose everything you’ve worked for. And I—”
I snapped my mouth shut before the rest could fall out, before I told him that I’d lose too. I couldn’t stomach watching him burn himself out for the sake of his pride or anger at the coaching staff.
His jaw flexed once, twice. He didn’t say anything right away — just studied me like I’d said something impossible.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than I’d ever heard it. “Don’t waste your breath worrying about me, Savage. I don’t need saving.”
The way he said it — low, rough, like he was trying to convince himself as much as me — only made my stomach twist tighter.
For a moment, neither of us moved. His stare locked on mine, daring me to look away.
I could have. I could have let him think I didn’t care, let him walk out with those sharp edges still intact. But my chest felt too tight, the words clawing their way up before I could stop them.
“Well, I’m already worried, and last time I checked, you don’t get to tell me what to do.”
His eyebrow arched, and a smile danced on his lips. He stood, slow and deliberate, closing the space between us until his leg brushed against the bottom of mine. His voice was low, steady, and dangerous. “You think I don’t already own your ass, Savannah?”
The way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine. His stare locked on mine, daring me to look away.
“My ass is my own,” I mumbled as I looked up at him. The light from the room was behind him, making his features hard to see, but I saw the slow, arrogant smirk curl his upper lip.
“Is it?” he asked. Dante leaned down, his palms flat on the blanket on either side of mine. He leaned dangerously close. His lips against mine, not kissing me, just there. “I say it’s mine.” His teeth caught my bottom lip and tugged.
He let go and stepped back. “And I don’t need saving,” he ground out, eyes burning into mine. He turned and walked to my bedroom door.
I pushed myself off the bed. “God, you are the most arrogant, infuriating—”
I didn’t get to finish. Dante closed the distance in one stride, his mouth crashing against mine with a force that stole the rest of the words from my throat. It was hot, demanding, and my fingers were already in his shirt, fisting the fabric, dragging him closer.
“You drive me insane,” I muttered against his mouth, the words muffled as he tilted his head and deepened the kiss, his hand cupping my jaw, rough thumb skimming fire across my skin.