Chapter 38
Savannah
The quad buzzed with the kind of Thursday-morning energy only a college campus could — laughter spilling from clusters of students as they spoke about the upcoming weekend, or the grumbled complaints about classes and exams coming around too fast, mingled with the smell of greasy food trucks rolling in for the lunch crowd.
I should’ve been lost in it. Blending in, like every other girl in jeans and a hoodie with a laptop clutched against her ribs. Instead, I felt as if every pair of eyes was waiting for me to slip.
Then I saw him.
QB10. He was standing with Dustin and Noah like he belonged on a billboard — a Lions-blue hoodie stretched across his shoulders, easy grin locked in place. He looked untouchable. Polished. Perfect.
But his jaw? I saw the tightness in it as he talked to his friends. His eyes? His eyes found me across the quad, and in an instant, the air thickened, hot and heavy, like we weren’t in the middle of campus but back in his dorm room with my hands on his skin.
I should’ve looked away and not made it obvious that I was thinking about the quarterback on his back while I rode his cock.
My head tilted back as he pulled me down onto his body, fucking into me, like he had last night when I was supposed to be studying, and he was supposed to be preparing for a test in Education Policy and Governance.
I hadn’t gone back to my dorm to sleep. I’d spent the last three nights with Dante and the guys. Dustin and Noah didn’t care that I was in his room or eating their food; they were sympathetic to the fallout with my dad and were being great friends.
I didn’t even care that I was obviously hiding from my father. I refused to talk to him, had ignored his text messages, and I knew he wouldn’t allow me to avoid him for much longer.
A loud laugh pulled me back. I walked toward Dante and the guys. A dozen voices around me, calling his name, asking for a photo, wanting a handshake — all of it blurred as his gaze stayed locked on mine.
“Sav,” Dante said, warmth threading through his voice when I stopped in front of them.
“Hey,” I managed, even though my throat was dry.
Dante’s smile didn’t falter, but when he slid his hand down, fingers brushing mine before catching — solid, sure, public — I knew exactly what he was doing.
He pulled me toward him, his mouth on mine, slow, sensual, exactly what I needed from him. Claiming me. Out loud. In front of everyone.
The noise around us shifted, sharp and sudden. A couple of whispers and I just knew somewhere, a camera phone would be angled higher.
I froze, pulse jackhammering in my ears. Dante pressed a quick kiss to my lips, pulling back, a gleam in his eyes I recognized too well. He was daring me to let go. Daring me to prove that this wasn’t what it looked like.
But I didn’t let go, and the murmurs grew louder.
“Is that his girlfriend?”
“Who is she?”
“Isn’t that Dean Cole’s daughter?”
Every word cut sharply in the back of my skull. His hand stayed warm against mine, thumb brushing once, deliberate, like he was telling me to breathe.
I wasn’t sure I could.
“You good?” Dante asked, his voice pitched just low enough for only me to hear. That calm, even tone he used on the field when the noise was deafening, and the clock was bleeding out.
I nodded once, sharp, even though ‘good’ was the last thing I felt.
“Then stop looking like you’re about to bolt.” His grin was still for the crowd, but the command was for me.
I wanted to snap at him, tell him he didn’t get to order me around like one of his plays, but my hand stayed tangled with his, stubborn and rooted. I didn’t pull away. I wasn’t sure I could anymore.
Noah’s gaze flicked between us, one brow arched, but he remained silent. Dustin, though, rolled his eyes.
“So, you’re out, and we’re going to head out,” Dustin said to Noah. “Let these two . . .” He looked between us. “Yeah.”
“Spence,” a voice called, sharp with authority.
We all turned, and I recognized him as a booster.
Beau Jones — I’d sat beside him at many a function.
He was one of the few I didn’t mind talking to.
He wore a nice gray suit, a wide tie, but his expression was one carved into disapproval as he approached us.
“Need a word with you, son.” His eyes flicked down to our joined hands. “Alone.”
Dante didn’t move. Not until I turned to look at him again, his grip tightening just enough to make my pulse trip.
“You okay if I go?” he asked me, casual as if he hadn’t just been more or less given an order.
I swallowed hard. “Of course. I’m going to head to the shed anyway.”
His grin softened. Real, quick, gone again — but I saw it. The kind of smile they didn’t see on their media packets. The kind of smile that belonged to Dante.
To me.
He let go of me finally, and he and Beau walked away, with every camera phone still tracking him, but some still pointed at me. My fingers felt empty, cold, and very, very exposed.
“So it begins,” Noah murmured, looking around. “You okay, Savvy?”
I nodded. “Yeah, guess everyone knows now,” I tried to joke.
“Yup,” Dustin agreed. “Looks like you two just made it official.” Dustin’s voice was quiet as he surreptitiously looked around.
“I—” My throat locked. Words refused to line up, so I settled for a shake of my head. It wasn’t denial, not really. “He’s not known for his patience.”
Noah’s lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile. “Yeah, welcome to Spence’s world.”
Dustin just shook his head, muttering something under his breath that I didn’t catch.
I couldn’t stop myself from glancing across the quad, from watching as Dante walked alongside Beau, and even from here, I could tell he was pissed off, just by the set of his broad shoulders.
I looked around at those trying not to openly stare and wondered if they could see how uncomfortable he was. Or if all they saw was the face of the program.
“I’m heading to the shed,” I told them, wondering if they knew how freeing it was to be able to say that out loud and not fear the consequences. “See you guys later?”
We said our goodbyes, and I walked away, as the quad kept buzzing behind me, but I didn’t stop to see who was still staring. By the time I cut down the back path toward the arts building, I was glad this was my place where the world didn’t follow me.
I closed the door, leaned back against it, and dragged in a shaky breath. My fingers still felt the ghost of Dante’s grip. My stomach still churned at wondering what an alumnus wanted from Dante.
He’d told us about his coach, his other coach, giving him shit Monday morning. But the three of them had done their part — followed their training and said nothing — though I know it was simmering in Dante, and I don’t think any of us were going to be ready for the explosion when it came.
I hated that I knew this festering secret that bubbled under the polish of this fucking prestigious school. Prestigious my ass. It was a cesspit.
Dad thought that since the corruption was in the athletics department, it wouldn’t matter to the rest of the school.
He’d keep his precious academics separate.
But it wouldn’t be. Every graduate from this school would be tainted the same way.
Did we succeed on our own merits, or through grade altering and under-the-table payments?
It made me feel sick. But feeling sick wouldn’t fix anything, and in the grand scheme of it all, how the heck was I supposed to fix anything?
I shoved my hair back, pulled on my gloves, and slid my goggles into place. Work. That was the cure. Lose myself in the hiss of the torch, the spark and grind of reshaping something broken.
But even as the flame caught, the glass glowed, and my hands moved in practiced precision, my head wouldn’t stop.
I’d seen Dante in every mask he wore — golden boy for the boosters, cocky bastard in the library, relentless quarterback on the field.
Then there was the one from today. The one who looked straight at me, took my hand in front of everyone, and didn’t flinch. Real. Not hiding behind a mask.
The smile spread over my face as I worked. I felt the tension leave my shoulders and let myself enjoy the fact that I was a girl who was falling in love with her guy.
Wasn’t that part of college?
My dad should’ve been pleased I was getting a full experience. I actually laughed out loud at my own sass.
“I haven’t heard you laugh in here for a while.”
I looked up at Professor Yates in surprise. “Hi?” I looked past him at the door. “I thought I locked it.”
“I missed you at the art show last Thursday. Your father said you were . . . sick.” Professor Yates closed the door behind him and then turned to me. “I would have expected you to tell me that.”
“I . . .” I put my tools down and turned things off. “Yeah, I’m sad I missed it.” I really was, but me and my dad in the same room that night? After what happened the day before? That wasn’t going to happen.
He walked forward slowly, his hands in his pants pockets, his blazer pushed up in a way that made his jacket look too small.
“It’s good you’re making new friends,” he said with a smile that managed to look both kind and condescending. “I like that for you.”
“Um . . . friends?” This whole atmosphere had a strange vibe, one I wasn’t sure I was comfortable with.
Professor Yates picked up a shard of glass, studying it and then me. “Your new football friends.”
How did he know about that? “Yeah, it’s good.” I didn’t like the way he was studying me.
“You know, you can always come to me,” he said, his hands came out of his pockets, and he clasped them behind his back like he was giving a lecture. “It’s important for girls like you to have . . . balance. Academics. Social life. Guidance.”
Girls like me? My skin prickled. “I’m doing fine.”
“Of course you are.” He took another step toward me. “You’re a very capable young woman. Very polished. Very . . . composed.”
He let the silence drag. It felt thick, sticky. Wrong.