Page 75 of Campus Heat

“I’ve been trying to think of ways to make it work, but I keep coming up empty, so I was hoping you could help me.”

The uncertainty in my voice was raw now, stripped of all the defenses I usually tried to hide behind.

“All I know is…” I put my hands on her shoulders and squeezed. “I don’t want this thing between us to end.”

28

Elizabeth

The ballroom of Havenport’s alumni center glowed under warm chandelier light, and every polished surface reflected the soft gold of the evening. Round tables dressed in crisp white linen filled the room, each decorated with navy centerpieces and small Havenport flags. The university crest hung proudly on banners along the walls, and a small stage with a microphone stood near the front.

I paused just outside the doorway and allowed myself to take a moment to soak it all in because I had to admit that this was the type of event I secretly loved. The cheer squad had traded our uniforms for sparkling dresses and heels, and the football players had been squeezed into suits and ties. It was absolutely adorable.

The room buzzed with the conversations taking place among smaller groups. Alumni, donors, faculty, and students, we all had a place. I grabbed a glass of champagne from one of the countless servers that moved gracefully between the tables, carrying massive trays filled with drinks and small appetizers.

As the scent of expensive food drifted through the air, Jenna leaned toward me, eyes lingering on the dessert table with a great sense of appreciation.

“Okay,” she said, licking her lips. “I’m not saying football fundraisers are my favorite thing…”

I glanced at her. “But?”

“But if this is the level of catering we’re talking about,” Jenna continued, nodding toward a tray of chocolate mousse cups. “I’m willing to support the team’s future.”

I laughed under my breath, but my attention was quickly pulled away from her. Across the room, the Highlanders gathered near the stage. Most of them looked uncomfortable and awkward in their suits, but they still tried their best to pull off the look. They were failing. Malik had already loosened his tie, and Dylan looked like he was going to trip over his own dress shoes.

And Ethan. My gaze lingered on him for a moment too long. He stood with his hands loosely clasped in front of him. He held his shoulders straight, showing off how well his dark suit hugged his frame. I could see the way he braced himself, though. It looked like he was waiting for something to happen, even at an event like this.

Mr. Pine stepped up to the microphone and tapped it twice. It was all that was needed to get the crowd to quiet down.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he said smoothly. “Thank you all for joining us tonight to support the Havenport athletes.”

Polite applause filled the room.

“We’re gathered here tonight not just to celebrate our proud traditions,” Pine continued. “But also to invest in the future of Havenport’s football team.”

He gestured toward the guys, and their responses were unexpected. Ethan refused to acknowledge Mr. Pine. Malik swallowed awkwardly, and Lucas bowed as if he had just been crowned king of the world.

“These guys… Our Highlanders represent the next phase of this program.”

The team shifted slightly as dozens of the alumni turned to look at them.

“They’re young,” Mr. Pine said. “They’re developing, and while the season hasn’t unfolded quite the way we hoped…”

A few chuckles ripped through the room, but most people missed the way Mr. Pine pinned Coach Harris with his gaze.

“... I can promise you that these young men have the heart and determination to take this program where it belongs.”

This time the applause was curious, measured even. I clapped along, but I could feel the lukewarm response like it was a small stone in my chest. When the dinner began and the crowd started mingling, the room filled with clusters of conversations. The alumni drifted toward the players. Some were offering encouragement while others were clearly evaluating them behind thin smiles.

It was suffocating, so Jenna and I slipped out to the balcony to get some breathing room. The night air was much cooler, and it carried the scent of fallen leaves and damp grass. I had just taken a sip of sparkling water when a voice nearby caught my attention.

“Coach Harris!”

I turned slightly and saw a tall, older man in a charcoal suit facing Harris near one of the balcony pillars. His silver hair was neatly combed, and his smile was polite but unmistakably sharp.

“I’ve been hoping to meet you,” he said, extending a hand. “Daniel Crawford. Class of ‘82.”

Harris nodded politely but didn’t shake his hand.