Page 28 of Campus Muscle

She looked a little offended, but it was gone in a flash. Tucked away behind her careful display of total control. Then she steeled herself again and took on a whole new air of arrogance.

“I’m serious, Prescott, and I’m not gonna go away just because you told me to.”

“I’ve noticed.”

I glanced down the hallway and then back at her as my mind worked on a way to get me out of this situation. Then I turned abruptly and pushed through the doors that led to the gym. Weights clanked somewhere inside, and a few guys were still finishing up, but most of the space had already cleared out.

The air smelled like rubber mats and sweat, but that was exactly what made it familiar and grounding. The problem was that I hadn’t changed. I was still wearing my football gear, and none of it was made for the gym. So I headed to the far side and grabbed a water bottle off the rack as I went.

I didn’t have to look to know that she was still following me around. I had felt her eyes burning into my back the entire way, but ignoring her seemed like the best option at the time. If only her presence hadn’t annoyed me as much as it did.

“You’re very persistent,” I muttered, refusing to face her.

“You could call it that, but I like to think of it as being focused.”

“I see it as the behavior of an annoying toddler, but you’ve never taken my word for anything, so…”

“What did Delaney say?” she asked, ignoring everything I had said.

I wished I had some magical ability to make her go away. That I could squeeze my eyes shut and when I opened them, she could just be gone.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?” I set the bottle down harder than necessary and turned to face her.

“No,” she said with a shrug. “It was the one thing I proudly failed at my whole life.”

“Figures.”

I held her gaze for a second, and then I did the one thing I knew would make her uncomfortable enough to leave. I reached for the hem of my shirt and, moving as slowly as humanly possible, pulled it over my head. A gust of air pushed past her lips as I tossed the shirt onto the nearest bench, but she didn’t move.

For half a second her eyes roamed over my exposed chest, and silence stretched between us. I waited for a reaction. An awkward glance in another direction of a flustered shift. Something that would throw her off just enough to break the rhythm she had been holding on to, but Dakota didn’t falter.

She just looked back up without breaking, and said, “If you’re done posturing, I’m still waiting for an answer.”

I blinked in surprise. This was the first time since she’d cornered me that I was completely thrown off. How on earth did she manage to get that right? I was the one who was supposed to make her uncomfortable, but with one look, she had turned the tables.

“Seriously?” I asked when I eventually found my voice.

She crossed her arms. “Did you really think I’ve never seen a shirtless guy before you?”

“Most people at least pretend to be uncomfortable in a situation like this.”

“I’m not most people,” she shrugged.

Yeah… It wasn’t like I hadn’t noticed. Dakota was unlike any woman I had ever met. She was infuriatingly stubborn, with too much attitude for her own good, and no respect for personal space. It was as if someone had been asked to design the most annoying person on the planet, and the experiment was a success.

She tilted her head slightly. “So, are you going to answer the question, or should I start making my own conclusions?”

I stepped closer, just enough to close the space without crowding her. “Go ahead. You seem to be really good at making things up.”

“You’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

“And you’re not as important as you seem to believe.”

That was below the belt, and it landed hard. I could see it in her eyes. She didn’t give a full reaction, but it was strong enough for me to pick up on it. There was a tightening at the edge of her mouth and a flicker in her eyes, but it smoothed out in a split second.

“Frank Delaney doesn’t just ‘chat’ with players,” she said in a voice that was cold as ice. “So either you’re naive or you’re hiding something worth writing about.”

My jaw clenched. “It’s neither.”