Page 132 of Forever Relentless

The guy laughed, pointing higher up the stand, and I looked to see media — actual media — sitting in the seats. “But they wanted to know why he was missing. So, he got reinstated.”

I’d be damned. He was right. The public wanted the players, and they noticed when they weren’t there. Raising his social media presence wasn’t a dumb idea.

I picked up my camera, and I walked away from the guy as I started taking pictures of Noah fighting whatever demon was in his head. When he stopped, he looked up, and our eyes met, and I knew the zap of electricity down my spine was all him.

I turned and took a few random shots of nothing, trying to disguise the fact that I’d just been transfixed by him.

“So sloppy,” I muttered as I zoomed in and took one of Dust running tires.

I knew he had walked over beside me, and I pretended he wasn’t.

“If I say sorry for being a dick, will you forgive me?”

“I don’t know what you mean?” I took another picture, this one of Dante, who was locked in and throwing like his arm was on automatic.

“If I get down on my knees and say please as I eat you out, will you stop being mad?”

The camera shook in my hand. I lowered it before I dropped it. I looked up at him and realized that was a mistake.

My reaction to him was physical. It had always been physical. The difference was it was getting harder to hide. As I looked up at him, I saw something that made me frown.

“Why is your eye worse than it was?”

His lips twisted into a smirk. “Why is your face flushed?”

“I’m working. It’s hot.”

He grinned. “Is it?”

“Matthews? You finished?” Coach Holt screamed.

“All done, Coach,” Noah shouted back. He leaned down to me. “The offer stands. Let me apologize,” his breath was warm at my ear. “On my knees.” He drew back. “I won’t expect anything in return.”

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. He jogged back to the center of the field, and I had to physically force myself to look away.

My phone dinged, and I looked down at the notification.

Eyes widening, I opened social media.

As the Blues Get Ready for Spring Game, Learn What They Don’t Want You to Know.

I read the caption.

The Alabama Lions are champions on the field, but beneath the clean, polished organization is a department of lies and deceit.

Follow me for more.

“What the fuck?”

I looked up at the media in the stands. They were all reading their phones. I looked over the field and saw Kevin-the-Ass heading up the tunnel.

He wasn’t the only coach with a phone in his hand.

“What’s happening?” Dustin asked, coming over to me, pointing at my phone.

I showed him the post.

He whistled low. “Fuck.” He looked over his shoulder. “Dante! Noah!”