The Revenge Pact (Kings of Football, #1)(86)

“Life is tough, Mr. Tate. You’ll figure it out once college is over.”

Oh, man, he went there.

“Agreed, life is rarely fair.” I nod as I stick my hands into my pockets. “But the next time you know a kid has issues in your class, maybe try some understanding. I’m not talking about an athlete like me. They might be a regular person, the kind who’s talented in other ways, but if someone asks them to read, their throat closes up. This class was a mountain to me, Dr. Whitman. I climbed it. Fair and square.”

He frowns. “Mr. Tate…”

You can’t change assholes. Usually. But I tried.

“Think about it. Have a great Christmas.”

He sputters and I keep walking, letting the next person up to his desk.

I walk to where Anastasia waits. She bites her lip. “You didn’t toss a pen at him, but still epic.”

I grin, feeling confident. She read my paper last night. She said it’s good. Do you know what it means to know I wrote something and she thinks it’s good? It makes me feel like I can take on anything.

Benji practically runs into the room, his shirt on inside out, his hair a mess. He slaps his paper on Whitman’s desk then saunters over to us like he’s cool.

I laugh and Anastasia joins me. I think we’re both running on a strange energy, but clearly, Benji is not.

“Morning,” we say at the same time.

He groans. “I barely made it. What a night, but hey, today’s the end of the term. What time’s your flight, Ana? Ours is at five in the morning. Shit. Y’all wanna hit the bar for a few hours after classes?”

Anastasia tells him hers is at six at night. “Um, I’m busy. Got to pack and check on June.”

Benji looks at me. “Plans today? I need a buddy.”

“Packing and…stuff,” I say vaguely.

He squints as he darts his eyes between us. “Ah, I get it. Packing is code.”

“No, I have to pack,” I insist.

“Uh-huh.” He blows out a breath. “Guess the days of me and you running game are gone, and that’s cool, I approve. I can rope Parker into going to the bar with me. He’s a good time.”

I slap him on the back, we say goodbye, then Anastasia and I head out and get in the elevator.

She’s in my arms before the door shuts. She kisses me like crazy and my heart pounds. I want more of her, so fucking much…

The elevator opens and we separate. We leave the building, bracing ourselves for the cold wind as we walk to her next exam. Before she goes in, I take her hand and lace our fingers together.

“I’m going to tell him. Before he leaves for Atlanta.”

She nods, relief on her face. Like me, she wants this over so we can really begin.





He’s in his room at his desk typing when I knock on his door and step inside. There’s an open suitcase on the bed, clothes draped around the room, books everywhere.

“Hey,” I say. “What’s up?”

“Hey.” He straightens up in his seat, shuts his laptop, and grimaces. “Not much. Checking out Harvard, still looking for a place to live next fall. The good places fill up fast. All my exams are done, ’bout to head out. You?”

My eyes bounce around the room, taking in the framed picture he has of him and Anastasia on his nightstand. It was taken the night he pinned her. Part of me wants to pick it up and look at her face, but the other part wants to burn it to ashes.

He follows my gaze and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Still haven’t put that away.” A long exhalation comes from his chest.

I brace myself, my voice stilted as I tell him the decision I came to. “This is it. My last day. My mom needs me. She won’t say it out loud, but she does.”

His eyes flare, and he stands, reading the serious vibe in my voice. “No way. I mean, I knew you were waffling, but I always figured you’d…”

“Come back to Braxton?”

“Yeah, at least next semester. Here take a seat. What about football?” He goes to move clothes to make room on his bed, and I shake my head and wave off his offer to sit. I’m too twitchy.

“Yeah, going to take my chances in the draft. Can we talk a minute?” Get in, say it, and get out.

“Sure.”

I look out his window and search for words. I leave my arms loose at my sides, pretending to be relaxed. I exhale. “You’re going to be president. The guys look up to you, you have leadership skills, and you’ll carry us through the spring. I might be able to get away and visit but…” it’s going to be hard. There’s a thousand miles between Vermont and Braxton. “…I’ll be focused on Mom, getting in shape for the combine, then the draft.”

He pushes his glasses up. “I’ll do a good job. I mean, you’ll be missed.” His mouth pulls down and an uncertain expression flashes on his face. “It feels like you’re building up to something.” He gets strangely still, then glances back at the photo. “Is this about Anastasia?”

I start at the name he uses, and he sees it, a hard expression growing on his face as he gives me a look.

“Like I didn’t notice. You never took your eyes off her.”

I tuck my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “Donovan, yeah.”