“I know it isn’t, but that doesn’t make it better.” We reached the dorm, I swiped my pass, and we headed upstairs and into the apartment.
I dumped my stuff on the floor and finally looked up at him. “What?”
He studied me for a long second, brow furrowing deeper. “This isn’t about the program,” he said quietly. “This is about her?”
“It’s not,” I lied.
“Dustin,” he said, voice dipping to something softer, steadier, “you warning her like that? You watching her like you are? You getting pissed when the guys mess with her? That’s not you doing crowd control.”
“I don’t know what you’re implying.” I refused to look at him.
He laughed. One disbelieving huff. “I’mimplyingyou like her.”
I recoiled like he’d swung at me. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Okay,” Dante said, hands up. “Let’s pretend that’s true. Then answer me something.” His gaze pinned me. No escape. No wriggle room. “Why do you care this much if she gets hurt?”
The apartment suddenly felt unbearably small. Because I cared. Way more than I should. More than made sense.
“I don’t,” I said weakly.
Dante just shook his head. “Man, you’re lying to the wrong person.”
Silence stretched between us.
Finally, he added, “Just... don’t get too involved with this. If you want to protect her, do it the right way. But my advice isyouradvice — stay out of it.”
I swallowed hard. “I know.” I didn’t meet his stare. “It was just a warning, that’s all.”
He nodded. “Well, you did your best.” He smiled. “Maybe you two should stay away from each other. There’s... tension between you. Anyone can see it, especially after this afternoon.”
I didn’t have a comeback for that.
He clapped a hand on my shoulder, squeezing once before stepping around me. “Hey, Dust?” he said over his shoulder.
“Yeah?”
“Maybe we stop treating her like she’s the enemy... but know she’s not an ally either.”
I knew that. That was the whole problem. I didn’t know what she was, and I couldn’t file her under either category, which was driving me crazy.
I didn’t know how to handle her, andthatwas the danger.
Chapter 13
Hadley
By the second week of shadowing Mike, I’d learned a few things.
The weight room’s music playlist hadn’t been updated in a decade, Mike was sweating through shirts at a concerning rate, and Dustin Slater — big man, big ego, big mouth — was now acting like I didn’t exist.
Which was rich, considering yesterday he practically cornered me like he was staging an intervention. But today?Today, he wouldn’t look at me. Wouldn’t speak to me. In fact, he wouldn’t even walk within ten feet of the freshman I was shadowing, as if somehow proximity to me had become contagious.
If he saw me coming, he shifted directions. If I moved left, he moved right. If I entered a room, he suddenly remembered he needed to beanywhereelse. It would be annoying if it weren’t, honestly, kind of impressive. Watching him was similar to watching wildlife instinctively avoid a trap. Only he was treating me likeIwas the trap.
I tried ignoring it.
I really did.