Page 37 of Forever Relentless

“I need two years of tape at a D1 school,” I told him. “Or that was the plan. Now I wish the date to declare was at the end of the college year instead of January, know what I mean?”

Dante didn’t comment, but he didn’t look like he disagreed.

“I mean, after the national championship, how do you even know if you’re ready to go pro? You could declare while high on the wine and make a big mistake.”

“Or you don’t declare, the moment passes you by, and a month later you know you fucked up by wanting to have a degree when you left college,” he muttered.

“Exactly.” I sucked my teeth. “Ask me today, I’d be declaring.”

I saw her move out of the corner of my eye, and I looked over. She was glaring at me, obviously pissed off about waiting, but not so pissed off that she tried to leave again.

“I have to deal with this,” I told him quietly.

He nodded and picked up the shirts and other stuff. Dante put his fingers to his mouth and let out a shrill whistle. Dustin looked over, tapped Jason on the shoulder, and the two of them changed course and headed our way. So much for running laps.

“Have fun,” Dante smirked before he walked away.

Briar was sitting with her back straight, fully alert as I walked over to her. I saw her look me up and down, her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip before she looked away.

She had her camera in her lap, her hands clutching it tightly. I made her nervous. Good, she should be.

“So . . . Now you’ve had time to think about it, what the fuck were you thinking?”

She didn’t look at me; her head shook slightly as she kept her gaze fixed across the stadium.

“I’m not standing over there, Briar. Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you back, now answer the question.”

That earned me a look. Green eyes wide with indignation. “You think you can speak to me like that because you’re big and scary?”

“I’m not scary,” I told her, folding my arms across my chest.

She looked me up and down haughtily. “Well, you have the intimidation pose spot on,” she said scathingly. “Did you practice it in the mirror to get it right?”

“Yeah, every day for a week, mustn’t have worked because you don’t look like you’re trembling,” I scoffed at her attitude. “Now answer my question. What the fuck were you thinking?”

She leaned back in the seat, her arms across her chest, mimicking my pose. “That you might have some information that would help me.” She pulled the cap off her head, shaking her hair loose. “Instead, all I got was a pathetic hand-job story.”

I didn’t care that she was mocking Jason. It really was an embarrassing story. “That’s what you get for crawling along the stadium floor to listen to something that didn’t concern you.” I looked her up and down in a quick sweep. “Not quite sure which is sadder, Jason being blackmailed by his head coach, or you lying face down on the fucking concrete.” I leaned forward, her green eyes wary as she looked up at me. “People in glass houses, Briar. You get what I’m saying?”

“You’re a dick.”

“Yeah.” I didn’t move, and I could see her try not to press back any further away from me. “What else you got?”

She stood, our bodies almost touching because I didn’t step back. “I’m not repeating anything he said,” she snapped at me. “I feel for the guy, if it leaks, it won’t leak from me.”

I shook my head. “Not good enough.”

She gaped at me. “What the hell do you want me to do? Write it in blood in a contract?”

I thought about it.

“Blood.” I said it softly, turning it over like I was considering the possibility. “That’s very dramatic. Very . . . intimate, don’t you think? Mixing something of yours into something of mine. Binding.” I tilted my head. “I didn’t take you for the type, but I can work with it.”

Her cheeks went pink, and she opened her mouth, and I watched her reach for something to say, something to throw back at me.