Nope, the smug bastard covers his eyes and then points to me.
“You want me to cover my eyes?”
He nods.
In for a penny…
I set my helmet on the ground and make a show of covering my eyes.
Long moments pass as I stand there feeling like a jackass, no idea what’s going on. The fucker could be mooning me for all I know.
My suspicions are confirmed when riotous laughter fills the stadium.
I drop my hands just in time to see the Wildcat sprint away with my helmet. He’s holding it over his head like a goddamn trophy and cutting a line directly for the players’ tunnel.
“You’ve got to be shitting me.”
The guys on the team are rolling, but Reid manages to get hold of himself just long enough to suggest I go get my helmet. “You’re going to need it for Clemson.”
Worst. Pep rally. Ever.
I jog to the players’ tunnel, but when I enter, it’s not the Wildcat I find holding my helmet.
It’s Sutton.
She’s hugging the helmet to her chest, her expression guarded.
I take a tentative step forward, anxiety coiled low in my gut. “What are you doing here?”
“You wouldn’t take my calls or answer my texts. I didn’t know what else to do.” She bites her lower lip, looking unsure. “But I couldn’t let you leave for the semester without apologizing.”
That she’s doing it on my turf speaks volumes.
“I screwed up and I’m sorry.” Her voice wavers and she nods like she’s giving herself a silent pep talk. “I never meant to hurt you, Devin. I know my intentions don’t matter, but I want you to know that what I did wasn’t about you or your shot at landing the Sports Stream internship. It was about me and what I want.” She frowns. “Or maybe it was about what I don’t want. Both, really.”
“I’m going to need you to elaborate, Shorty.”
She beams at me and goddamn, I missed that smile.
“After seeing what Brooke went through with United G and Pinnacle, I started thinking that maybe agenting would be a better fit.” She gestures to herself with one hand and a self-deprecating laugh spills from her lips. “I mean, I’m not exactly traditional sports commentator material.”
“Fuck traditional. You’re gorgeous just the way you are.”
And fuck anyone who tries to make her feel otherwise.
She dips her chin in acknowledgment, cheeks stained crimson. “The point is, I could make a real impact working with young, female athletes. I could make sure no one else gets burned the way Brooke did.”
“I—” I shove my hands through my hair. She wanted that internship as badly as I did, and she worked her ass off to get an interview. “I don’t understand. You told me you’ve wanted to be a broadcaster since you were a kid.”
“I thought I did, but that was my father’s dream.” She lifts a shoulder. “I did a few broadcasts for my middle school news program and when it became clear Gabby was the gymnastics prodigy in the family, he suggested I’d make a good sports commentator. I latched onto the idea because I wanted his approval. I wanted him to be proud of me, and to have something that was my own.” She pauses, pressing her lips flat. “But I can’t spend my life trying to catch my parents’ attention.”
No, she can’t. Nor should she have to, but…
“So, what? You decided in the middle of the interview that you wanted to change your major?”
No way. She’s way too practical to do something that brash. She might appear anti-establishment, but Sutton’s a rule follower.
“It wasn’t quite as spur of the moment as all that.” The words carry a hint of her usual snark, and I’ll be damned if it doesn’t warm my heart. “I’d been thinking about it for a few weeks and then we met Jalen and he shared his experience. Seeing him and Rich interact convinced me there was a better way. NIL has created a whole new world of opportunities for student athletes, and I want to be part of it. I want to make sure the Brooke’s of the world get a fair shake.”
