Page 62 of Forever Relentless

“No!” My shout was loud in the quiet of my apartment, and I felt both stupid and irate at reprimanding myself for my own thoughts.

“Fine, let’s just do this, Briar.” I gave myself a very stern look in the mirror, a mascara wand clenched tightly in my right hand. “He’s hot. He’s sexy. He has that whole dark-and-brooding thing going on. He looks older than he is. But he’s still a junior in college. You’ve done the college thing. You’ve dated the college jocks. You hated it. They hated it. Awful experience. He’s no different.” I nodded. Mirror Me looked convinced. “Good. Pep talk over. Stop thinking of him naked. Okay?”

Mirror Me hesitated. Naked?

“Briar, you cannot hook up with the linebacker. You cannot fantasize about hooking up with the linebacker. The linebacker is off limits.” I stroked the brush over my lashes with short, sure strokes. Should I have put on eyeliner? “You do not need eyeliner. You do not need to look pretty. You are trying not to attract attention to yourself. Remember?”

After I’d tidied up the counter, I ran a brush through my hair one more time, set it with a light spray, and knew I needed to start my day.

I didn’t acknowledge my reflection as I slipped my tinted lip balm into my jeans pocket. That little act of rebellion would remain between me and the things I pretend didn’t happen.

The walk to the stadium wasn’t long enough for my racing thoughts. I was no longer sure of my footing inside it.

When the dean asked for social media coverage for the team, Gaby, who had heard me rant many times about the football games since I started working there, said I was the obvious choice. I was the obvious choice if the stars of the football team had done what they were supposed to, which was to be content with being photographed and not ask questions.

But no, they wanted to be detectives. Like Holmes?

I snorted. So I hadn’t been as subtle as I thought. Savannah Cole had seen right through me. I wonder if her dad had. Was that why he hadn’t said anything when Gaby suggested me?

He’d looked at me for a fraction of a second longer than was considered polite and then simply nodded.

Now? Now I was sure that he saw through me as easily as his daughter had.

I had never suspected him of being involved. Dean Cole was a new appointment when the shit with Mason went down. I would be surprised if he knew the history. How close was she to her father? A trickle of apprehension snaked down my spine.

No, I would know about it by now. If he knew and wanted me out of here, I’d be gone.

I recalled the afternoon in Coach Sutherland’s office. It was no act. There was no love between the dean and the head coach. Hate, definitely. They despised each other, and neither did a good job of hiding it.

Could he be an ally?

I dismissed the thought as quickly as it came.

I didn’t need allies. I had Diana.

I started the week after the semester started. It had been a moment of insanity on my part over Christmas. My old job had become stale, and seeing my brother the shell of the man he used to be, well, that wasn’t fun.

I’d been doomscrolling two nights before New Year’s Eve, and saw the buildup for the upcoming college games. There was huge hype for the Alabama Lions, and I had felt my anger rising as I flicked through posts about the Blues and their shining stars.

Mason had been their star once. Or could have been. They’d been taking his move onto the team slowly. Something about keeping the tape on him limited so he could strike when it mattered.

Which had been fair, until it wasn’t.

One click later and I was on Wrighton U’s website, glaring at Sutherland like the wrath of my stare could equal the pins of a voodoo doll.

The advert for social media content manager flashed up like a beacon from the heavens. I applied there and then.

I never expected a call. I submitted my portfolio.

I did an interview over a Teams chat.

In seventy-two hours, I had manipulated my driver’s license to give me a new surname and make me a year older.

God bless technology.

I started my new job the week before the second semester started. It hadn’t been my plan to be in the athletic department. I wanted to keep far away from the fucker that was Bobby Ray Sutherland. Which was, in retrospect, a spectacular failure of planning.

It really was sheer bad luck that Gaby had been listening to me venting about poor passing plays from the opposition. The last thing I wanted the Alabama Lions to do was win.