Page 33 of Forever Relentless

“How will you help me?” Jason asked, following along, and I heard Dustin mention something about ‘taking the power back.’

The conversation faded, and I think they were walking to the tunnel. No doubt to look for me. Which brought me back to my next dilemma, ‘How do you get out of this Briar?’

I rose slowly, body tense in case they hadn’t all left. I peeked above the seats, focused on the tunnel and saw nothing. I felt my shoulders relax.

“Enjoying the conversation?” Noah asked from behind me.

I jumped, tried to turn, banged my head off the seat in the row in front, kicked the seat behind me as I twisted, and basically made a complete fool of myself.

I looked up, his dark eyes glittered as he stood two rows up, looking down at me, arms folded across his chest.

How the hell hadn’t I heard him? He was too big a guy to be that silent.

“I . . .”

“Get up,” Noah ordered, and I reluctantly rose from the floor. I turned my head slightly and saw Dante watching me, while Dustin was further up the field, talking to Jason, and I just knew he was convincing him not to run to their head coach.

“Let’s move,” Noah said tightly, stepping over the seats to come onto the same row I was on.

“You could say please,” I grumbled as he settled beside me.

“Move.”

What a dick.

“Now, Briar. You think you deserve manners from me, when you’ve shown none?”

I refused to look at him because if he was going to be pedantic . . . Well, I had no comeback.

Noah simply stepped over the row of seats and made his way to the field. “I said move.”

I had no choice but to follow and saw that Dante was holding up the new team jersey.

Dante looked at me and then at Noah, before turning his back to me.

“Touchy.”

“Don’t be a smartass,” Noah said.

I turned toward him to give him a piece of my mind, but the dark glare he gave me made my words turn to dust. Okay, so they might be intimidating.

“Do the photos,” Noah told me coolly.

Given the predicament I found myself in, I simply nodded. “Fine.”

I had hardly spared a glance at the new shirt, though I did have some slight sympathy that they would have to wear it. It was yellow. I mean . . . yellow. They hadn’t overdone their hate of the color. It really was bright, bordering on offensive.

Dante held his shirt up. “What the hell were they thinking?” he asked no one as he dropped it and pulled off his training shirt.

I looked at the shirt and tried to mend the awkwardness. “It’s kind of West Coast-ish,” I offered, trying not to flinch when four pairs of eyes landed on me.

Dante grunted. “Yeah, well, they can send it to the West Coast.” He looked at the others. “Let’s get it done.”

I took a few shots as they lowered the shirts over their heads, or pulled them down their backs. Nothing that could be cropped and used in a way that was not the point of the shoot.

When I was done, I turned away and adjusted my camera lens.

I didn’t need to turn to know the shadow that fell over me was Noah’s. “You’ll stay behind to talk.”