God, he was a cocky bastard.
I gave him another polite smile, even though I wanted to grit my teeth. “Translation, I’m here to make sure you’re still on the field next fall,” I shot back, matching his gaze without flinching. “Isn’t that what you want?”
He didn’t look away, not even when I squared my shoulders. It was the kind of stare that pinned you in place — not aggressive, just... unwavering. I had the suspicion that he’d already decided he was the one in control of this conversation and was curious to see when I’d figure it out.
“What’s your name?”
The question took me by surprise. I don’t know why, but it was a second too long before I got a grip of myself. “Savannah.” I swallowed. “My friends call me Savvy.”
He nodded in acknowledgment, his head tilted slightly as he watched me.
I tapped my phone screen dark and slid it into my bag. “We start tomorrow. Library, study room C, four o’clock.”
“Four’s practice,” he said without missing a beat.
“Then we start at five.”
He smirked like I’d just passed some unspoken test. “Five is film study.”
“What time suits your schedule?”
“Seven works for me,Savannah.” His eyes danced with amusement, a ghost of a smile on his face.
Fine. I would not lose my temper in the library. Seven worked. Seven would always have worked if he'd just said so.
He didn’t have a witty remark about us not being friends or use my nickname.Interesting.Was it? He had me questioning everything.
“Guess I’ll see you at seven, then.” I stood, smoothing the skirt of my dress, and his eyes flicked down just once beforereturning to my face. Not ashamed. Not subtle. Just a silent acknowledgment that he’d noticed.
Cocky. Bastard.
I picked up my purse, grabbed my coat, and headed for the door. “Seven o’clock. Don’t be late.”
Behind me, his voice followed — solid, sure, and just loud enough to make sure I heard it. “I wasn’t late today.”
I didn’t bite. I walked out at a steady pace that my father would have admired.
Of course, he had to take a class examining how education systems and college athletics operate, which was essentially the focus of my minor. I was studying Public Policy with a minor in Educational Reform.
Due to my major and my father’s role as a university dean, I participated in the Academic Administration Liaison Program.
They must have panicked when they saw that the university’s star was nearly failing a class, probably thinking,Hey, she’s the best in her class, and he needs help to pass.
It was a win-win — if he passed, the football team’s star quarterback remained eligible, and they could pride themselves on ‘academic integrity.’ If he failed, well, they could say they tried, and I’d be the one to take the blame.
I’d seen enough athletes breeze through this campus, thinking they were untouchable, until it got closer to graduation and they didn’t have the credits to pass. They changed their attitudes pretty quickly after that. But I already suspected Dante Spence was a different breed.
If my dad knew this wasn’t a simple one-time thing, and that I’d been paired with him going forward, he’d already be drafting the ‘stay away from football players’ lecture. Not because of grades or rules, but because in his eyes, athletes were a distraction. And distractions, according to Dean Cole, ruined futures.
Unfortunately, Dante looked exactly like the kind of distraction that ruined them in the best way possible. I’d need to be careful.
There’d been a flicker in his eyes when I told him I’d be his tutor — not irritation, not dread.Interest. The kind of look that said he wasn’t just thinking about Education Policy and Governance.
So I’d need to be sharper, unflappable, and completely immune to the kind of grin that made most of the student body paint their faces blue and white in the freezing cold.
I’d keep this strictly professional, or try to. Five minutes with him, and my pulse was already racing.
The worst part? I had a sinking suspicion he knew it too.
