“If I was, I’m not now,” I snapped back at him.
His eyes gleamed, and I inwardly cursed.
“Are you giving me attitude number ten?”
Yes.“No, Coach.”
He looked at me, that calculated gleam in his eyes, and I just knew I was going to hate what was coming next. He smiled — and it was the kind of smile that never meant anything good for the person on the receiving end.
“Good. Then you won’t mind running scout team drills for the next forty-five minutes.”
What an asshole.
I stared at him. “Coach—”
“You want to burn that attitude off, or you want to keep testing my patience?”
I bit down on the answer I wanted to give and grabbed my helmet. Scout team drills meant extra reps, no breaks, and the privilege of making the defense look good in the process. Exactly what my already fried brain and sore body needed. Twelve pills were never going to last me at this rate.
Dust caught my eye from across the field and gave me a mock wave. Another asshole.
By the time Coach finally waved me off, sweat was pouring down my back, and my legs felt like wet concrete. I shoved my helmet under my arm and trudged toward the locker room.
Dust was leaning against his open locker, gulping from a water bottle like he’d just run a marathon instead of routes. “You look like death, man.”
“I feel like it.” I dropped down on the bench across from him, peeling my practice jersey off over my head. “Apparently, giving Merriman ‘attitude number ten’ is punishable by cardio death.”
“‘Attitude number ten?’” He grinned. “That’s the eyebrow raise with the side of smartass, right?”
“Yeah, well, apparently it’s a capital offense.”
From a couple of lockers down, Noah was pretending to scroll his phone, but I caught the way his head angled just slightly toward us. The guy had been here half a semester, still felt like a stranger, but he listened like it was his job when Coach was talking.
“You good for the run later?” Dust asked, tipping his chin toward the field schedule taped to the wall.
“Yeah,” I said, keeping it neutral. No need to invite conversation.
Noah’s thumb flicked over his screen, eyes steady on me like I was the day’s entertainment. He’d been caught listening to us and wasn’t hiding it.
I liked that.
I grabbed my towel and stood, letting the silence stretch before heading for the showers.
I was ready for training to be over today. At least in class, the professors expected my brain to be the only muscle working. I smiled as the water ran over me.
My first class was easy; I was guaranteed a quick nap.
The day was already picking up.
* * *
One nap later, two classes that weren’t in any way taxing, and I was feeling better. That was, until I saw my favorite tutor heading across the quad; her pace was as fast as it’d been last night, but her sense of awareness was lacking.
Savannah Cole, the girl whosefriends call me Savvywas the reason I only got two hours of sleep. Kind of.
Her attention was on her backpack, and she was heading straight for a collision with someone if she didn’t pay attention soon. I made the rash decision to make that person me.
It was timeSavvyand I became friends.
