The Den dominated the campus athletic section, blue-and-white banners hanging limp in the still, gray air, as I cut behind it to get to the library.
I arrived with little time to spare, then had to find meeting room twenty-one because the only reason I came to the library was to get my enrollment card in my freshman year.
“Dante?”
I turned to the two girls who were smiling widely at me.
“Hi.” They were going to ask me questions about the game, or worse, flirt. “Do you know where meeting room twenty-one is?”
They exchanged a look. “We can show you.”
“That would be great.”
I let them chatter on the walk, smiling when they looked at me, and neither encouraged nor discouraged the flirting, but my head was already on the meeting. I thought about the calendar I’d just flipped through. The phone call I’d just ended. I didn’t think about them too long.
Did the school know?How?I’d been so fucking careful.
“This is it,” one of the girls said as she smiled at me, and I realized I would never have found it on time without them.
I gave them my signature quarterback smile. “Appreciate it.”
The room was empty. I hesitated, a little annoyed that I was here on time and my ‘advisor’ wasn’t.
The hum of the AC filled the silence, and the second hand of the wall clock ticked too loudly.
I sat down and waited.
Chapter 2
Savannah
The clink of crystal against china was starting to give me a headache.
I smiled for the third time in sixty seconds — the exact same curve of lips I’d been practicing since I was twelve — while another donor told me how thrilling the national championship win had been for Wrighton, even as her nauseating floral perfume assaulted my sinuses.
“Your father must be so proud to have the Blues in the spotlight again,” she said, swirling her wine like it was part of the performance.
“Yes,” I replied smoothly, because of course that’s what she wanted to hear. “The entire university community is still buzzing.”
Buzzing. Right. That was one word for it. The Alabama Lions, or the Blues as they were casually known because of their team colors, were the topic of conversationeverywhere. Still. Even two weeks later. Football season was over, the players were very much in the offseason, but the school was still riding the high of the win.
The university’s donor dinner had started at six sharp, a parade of alumni, corporate sponsors, and people with money who had their names etched into campus buildings. The people who would write their checks a little faster with the national championship in the school’s trophy room. Or whatever they did with it. The banquet hall smelled faintly of beef tenderloin and roses, every table centered with an extravagant arrangement in the school’s blue and white. I’d been playing ‘Savannah Cole, the dean’s daughter’ all evening. Not Savannah, the grad student. Not Savannah, theperson.
“Savannah.”
My father’s voice cut into the conversation, smooth and authoritative. “The academic support office is looking for you. Something about filling in for a tutor?”
I glanced over my shoulder. One of the program coordinators, Kylie, stood a few feet away, clutching her clipboard like it might protect her from my father’s stare.
I rose out of my seat and smoothed my dress down, then walked quickly over to them, not too quick to make me look hurried, though. Dad wouldn’t appreciate me drawing attention to us.
“Savvy,” she said quickly. “I hate to do this to you, but we’re short tonight — it’s for Dante Spence.”
A football player. I didn’t usually get them.
My father’s jaw tightened just enough to notice if you knew him as well as I did. “You don’t need to be involved with the football team. They attract... unnecessary attention.” His gaze shifted to the coordinator. “Surely there’s someone else—”
“There isn’t,” Kylie said, voice wavering. “Dante has a meeting at seven-thirty and we need to get his academic check-in completed tonight.”
