I made my way over to them. I didn't have a plan. I was good at improvising.
“Professor Yates.”
He turned, and I watched the recognition settle over him. The slight shift in posture people make when they recognize me.
"Dante." He extended a hand. “Nice to see you again.”
“Is it?” I shook his hand and held on a beat too long — just long enough for him to notice. "I wanted to talk to you about Savannah.”
Something shifted in his eyes. Small. He covered it quickly. “Savannah? She's a remarkable student. Very talented.” He smiled at the girl, who was looking between us, unsure where she fit in the conversation. It was easy. She didn’t.
“You should go,” I told her. She didn’t need me to say it twice.
“Yeah, Savannah is remarkable.” I kept my voice easy, conversational, the same tone I used on the field when I told a receiver exactly where I needed him. No heat. No threat he could point to. “You seem to hover.”
“I don’t know what—”
“For someone not actively teaching her, and with her having no actual grade to earn, your frequent visits to her work shed are . . . interesting.”
He nodded, watching me carefully now. "I may not be her professor anymore, but she is very talented. I care very much about her future.”
“You already said talented.” I held his stare and let the silence run about three seconds longer than was comfortable. “I'm going to be around a lot, checking in on how she’s doing, making sure the people in her life are, you know . . .” I smiled. “Looking out for her the right way.”
He looked ready to bolt.
"I appreciate the work you've done in giving her a space to work in," I continued. "But that arrangement you have with her is nothing more than an arrangement to use a workspace. You understand?” I stepped back, giving him room, because that was the other part — you never crowded a man when you were making a point. You gave him room and let him stand in what you'd said.
“Of course.”
"Good. Remember that.” I gave a brief nod. “Good to see you again.”
I walked away.
I didn't look back. I never looked back when I made a play — you trusted the throw and kept moving.
When I got back to the dorm, both of them were waiting for me, the expectation of coffee long gone. I didn’t hesitate to tell them what had just happened and what I had learnedabout Coach Hembry. I didn’t mention my talk with Yates. Some things you handled on your own. That was one of them.
“That settles it. We keep our heads down,” Dustin said firmly, looking between Noah and me. “You’re on his radar for the wrong reason, us by extension, so we give him no excuse to throw us out. Agreed?”
Noah nodded slowly, and I felt a small kernel of defiance spark to life inside me.
“Dante?Agreed?” Dustin pressed. “This is so much fucking bigger than us, man. This is ourlives.”
Noah licked his lips but nodded slowly. “Where we go in the Draft.”
He was right. They both were. I swallowed hard. “Agreed. We forget anything that’s happened recently and focus on playing.”
But inside me, the small spark of defiance became a flame.
Chapter 31
Savannah
I should’ve been paying attention to the notes spread across the small table, but I'd found a spot in the study lounge on the top floor.
I’d told myself I was only heading to the lounge for quiet study time. But the truth? The view overlooked the practice field for the football team, and I hadn’t exactly sat facing away from it. I’d spent more time watching the team than I should.
Dante was impossible not to notice. Not because of the golden-boy quarterback thing — though, yeah, that too — but because of the way he was moving today. Sharp. Reckless. Like he was throwing at something that wasn’t there.
