I should’ve walked out then. Should’ve pushed past him and slammed the door. Instead, I stood rooted to the tile, pulse pounding, and for one dangerous, suspended second, I wasn’t sure which of us he meant.
Because Dante Spence made me feel uncontrolled.
I hated feeling the tug in my gut, the spark in my chest, when I knew I shouldn’t. He was a walking headline, a mess in motion, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d be pulled into whatever storm followed him.
So I did the only thing I could — I moved a step closer. “What do youwant?”
He leaned just a fraction nearer, a finger trailed lightly along my jawline, his thumb brushed over my bottom lip, and the answer was in his eyes before he spoke. “Maybe I want you.”
Suddenly, this wasn’t just a standoff, but a tense moment filled with an energy that was ready to explode between us.
I saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes, and I shoved past him before he could see how my breath hitched and my hands trembled as I fought the urge to reach for him. My heels echoedon the tile as I swung the door open, and the cool hallway air rushed in.
I had to get out of there because if I didn’t, I was about to do something crazy, like kiss the quarterback in a restroom.
I rejoined the event, glad my father had his back to me and wouldn’t know how long I was gone. It felt like hours, but I knew it was only minutes. My breathing was quick, my palms were sweaty, and I was so tense I felt like I was having a heart attack.
I went and joined my father, knowing it was the safest place to be right now, and grabbed a glass of apple juice from a passing waiter. I took a sip, realized it was champagne, and kept my mouth shut. But I did place it on a table because the last thing I needed tonight was the headline that the dean allowed his underage daughter to drink, even if I wanted to down it and seek another.
Dad turned his head as I moved beside him, his hand resting possessively on the back of some donor’s chair, his smile smug and sure. He gave me a sharp nod, the silent approval that I was back in line.
The buzz of conversation, the clink of glasses, the overly bright chandeliers — it all felt overwhelming, yet oddly familiar. I knew how to navigate this room. Shake hands, tilt my head, laugh just enough.Pretend.
I pasted on a brighter smile and slipped into the flow, all the while aware that someone would have noticed Dante following me into the hallway... and that eventually, he’d come back in here too.
I already knew my mask might not be enough, and when he strolled back into the room as if he’d never been gone, that smile turned up just enough to charm everyone within fifty feet. I resented the effortless ease with which he moved through life.
Dad turned to me, a lull in the conversation, drawing my attention back to him. “Have you had anything to eat?” he asked quietly.
I blinked, surprised at the question. “A couple of canapés.”
He nodded, as if he had the same. “You can go home,” he said casually, almost sounding like a concerned parent. “Get some pizza or whatever counts as food these days on a Saturday night.”
I gave my dad a genuine smile. “It’s still pizza, Dad,” I teased. “You’re notthatold.”
“Well, we have the brunch tomorrow, and I know you’re losing study time, so I don’t want you to forget to take care of yourself. If your mother were here, she wouldn’t approve.”
“You were doing so good,” I muttered. “Then you ruined it when you mentioned her.” He gave me that almost parental look of disapproval, the one I was used to when it came to her. I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat at the slight change in the way he was acting. It was almostnice. “It’s really okay for me to leave?”
“Yes, it’s probably best.” His eyes shifted past me to scan the room. “I think there are too many distractions for you here tonight.”
Ah... there was the dad I’d come to know.
The practiced laugh caught in my throat. The threat of tears stung behind my eyes, and for one terrifying second, I thought everyone around me could see it — the way the air tightened, the way I forced myself not to scream. “I can promise you, Dad, I’m not distracted.”
His eyes softened a little. His hand squeezed my upper arm. “Good. Go,” he said, leaning forward. “Before I change my mind.”
I nodded and, a few minutes later, made my excuses and headed for the exit. I looked back once, unable not to, myeyes drawn like magnets to find QB10 and see if he was still surrounded by ‘fans.’
But he wasn’t looking at them. His gaze cut across the room like a spotlight and settled on me.
He didn’t smile this time. The weight of his stare was enough to undo me all over again.
I swallowed hard, heat rising up my neck as I kept his gaze. I turned and walked away, suddenly aware that anyone seeing us look at each other across the room would assume the wrong thing, but it didn’t stop the fact that each step felt like it was pulling me farther from him and something I couldn’t control.
I told myself I was finished for the night, but the truth held tight around my ribs — walking out didn’t mean I’d gotten away.
Not when Dante could stop me with just a look.
