AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Why your story is so powerful, full of passion and energy and obvious affection for your subject. It reads a lot like that picture looks—hot—and the girls on campus are gonna eat it up, trust me. You think so?”
Moira glanced at the photo once more before offering it over, if reluctantly. “I know so, Tatum, so best make sure your boy knows how you feel before the rest of the campus gets wind of him.”
Tatum nodded, glancing at the photo once more and feeling the heat rise in her belly, as it always did when she thought of her sexy young lover. She paused at the door, turning once more. “I really am sorry, Moira. I’m not in trouble, am I?”
“There’s no law against falling in love, Tatum,” Moira insisted, though her tone implied she wished there was. “And there’s no way, with a story this powerful, I’m not sending it up for Sports Profile of the Year.”
“What’s that?”
“What’s that?” Moira sounded personally offended. “Only the most prestigious award in the field of college journalism. If you win, and it’s a bigif, with competition from all over the country, it’s a big feather in your cap for finding journalism work after you graduate. Kind of like being a legacy in a fraternity, they almost have to take you if you win, so … fingers crossed.”
Tatum nearly sagged in the doorway. “Moira, I’m honored.”
Moira glanced up from her desk, offering a tight but reserved smile. “You should be, Tatum. And until then, try to keep you and Shane under wraps until the timing is right?”
“When’s that?”
Moira winked, turning back to the photos on her desk. The ones far less scandalous than the one clutched in Tatum’s trembling fingers. “After the article comes out, of course.”
Chapter Eighteen
Shane
“Dixon? A word?”
Shane was untying his sneakers, as were the rest of the freshmen, when they all glanced up, like dogs with a whistle. There was a brief moment of silence before the other players covered their mouths and made the universal, “Ooo” sound of a boy in big, big trouble.
“Coach?” Shane tried and failed to keep the sudden anxiety out of his voice.
“You heard me,” Coach barked, unseen from inside his office. “Now!”
Shane flinched, finding good old Boomer peering back at him, smile nearly splitting his big, moon-shaped face in two. “Better hurry, Stud!”
Shane shooshed him as he stood from the bench, still clinging to one dirty cleat. He stood, one foot in a sock, one foot in the other shoe, hobbling into the office as Coach glared at him from across his desk. He waved a piece of paper at him, face flush with rage. “Care to explain this?”
Coach tossed the sheet on the desk, revealing it to be a picture. A scandalous picture, at that. “Oh, shit!” Shane murmured, kicking the door shut behind him so the other players wouldn’t hear. “I thought she deleted that.”
“Well, she bloody well didn’t,” Coach huffed, sitting back in his desk chair and pinning Shane with those cynical eyes of his. “And I just got off the phone with your lady reporter’s editor about it, and she’s none too happy, either.”
“No, sir, I imagine she isn’t.”
“Didn’t I warn you about this, Kid?” Coach huffed, voice lowering just a notch.
“Yes, Coach, but…”
“But what, Kid? My words mean diddly to you?”
Shane sank into the chair beside him, shaking his head even as his stomach roiled. “I heard you, Coach, honest I did. And I tried so hard to resist temptation, but I’ve never met anyone like Tatum before!”
Coach rolled his eyes. “Says the twelve-year-old who just started shaving!”
“I’m serious, Coach. This isn’t just me getting my rocks off with some cute reporter.”
“No? Then what is it, Dixon? True love? Knights on white horses? Roses and butterflies?”
“No, I mean, maybe, I mean…” Shane threw his hands up in despair, not sure how to answer, but sure of one thing. Coach was wrong this time. “It’s something special, Coach, I know that much.”
“How do you know, Kid?”
