Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
“Are you sure?” Jeremy asked.
Judging by the hard line of Jean’s mouth, it wasn’t the answer he expected or wanted. Jeremy was able to push him back and get up. Jeremy kept his distance as he lit up and studied the curling smoke so he could move downwind of Jean. He killed a third of the cigarette in one long drag, prayed the nicotine would do its job, and grimaced at the irritation in Jean’s, “Jeremy.”
He’d get an earful from Laila later; he didn’t need one now. “Thank you,” he said, and took advantage of Jean’s confused silence to clarify, “for not hitting him. I know you wanted to, and I know you could have. Thank you for choosing restraint.”
Jean made a cutting gesture in his peripheral vision. “Let me fight him. I will make sure he never plays again.” When Jeremy only shook his head, Jean promised, “I will do it with no witnesses.”
“It’d be his word against yours,” Jeremy said, with a wan smile. “They’d take his without hesitation. Not because anyone honestly thinks he deserves the benefit of the doubt, but because it’d be more satisfying to believe the Trojans finally cracked. They’re getting bored of us, I think,” he admitted as he flicked ash aside. “They’re quick to congratulate our good sportsmanship, but they crave the drama of a hard fall from grace.”
“As fiercely as you resist it,” Jean said. “I do not understand your obsession.”
Jeremy had tried explaining it before. All of that was still true—the joy of a good game, the message his team hoped to send—but the same excuses and reasons wouldn’t get him anywhere today. There was more to it and Jean knew it. Jeremy turned his hand this way and that, watching the cherry blur as he made his cigarette dance, and offered up a quiet, “Redemption, perhaps.”
It was enough to earn him a long stare, but Jean said nothing. Jeremy looked across the parking lot to where a crowd was slowly gathering. The last team was nearly here. Jeremy sighed regret and finished his cigarette as quickly as he could. He crumpled the butt against the curb and tucked it into his pocket to throw away on the way inside.
They were halfway to the door when Jean said, “Dex. Dexter? Your friend.”
Jeremy rocked to a startled stop. “Cody wouldn’t have called him my friend.”
“No,” Jean agreed. “Reporters said it on the first day of class. I do not know this name.”
“Dexter Rollins was the Bobcats’ captain for three years straight,” Jeremy said, “but he was a fifth-year my freshman year, so I only met him once. At the fall banquet,” he confirmed when Jean glanced past him toward the building. That Dexter’s name hadn’t come up in Cody’s tale was puzzling. “What exactly did Cody tell you?”
Jean hesitated before answering, “Noah.”
Jeremy’s chest went tight in grief, but Jean didn’t elaborate. Jeremy had never liked him more. He sucked in a slow breath, willing his heart down from its frenetic pace, and asked, “What about the party?”
“Only that you went to one.”
Temptation was a ravenous beast. He’d said he wouldn’t lie to Jean, but the truth was a many-tiered mess with so many irrelevant avenues. Omission wasn’t dishonesty, but that didn’t explain the heavy sickness chewing up his throat as he considered it. He didn’t realize he’d looked away until Jean caught hold of his chin and turned his head back.
Jean’s warning was quiet: “You promised.”
“I promised,” Jeremy agreed, “but this isn’t the time to get into it.” When Jean didn’t let go of him, Jeremy motioned toward the approaching team and tried again. “You said the details can’t matter tonight, so we’ll talk about it tomorrow. Okay? I’ll get us some coffee and tell you anything you want to know.”
Jean said nothing, but he let go. Jeremy got them back to the conference room only a few steps ahead of the last arrivals. As expected, Laila and Cat had switched seats in his absence. Jeremy refused to take it personally but passed Torres’s cigarettes across the table.
It took only a few minutes for the thirteenth team to find their seats, and then Arizona’s head coach stood up to offer introductions and greetings. A catering crew rolled carts up and down the rows as he talked, handing out plates. Jean surveyed his meal with obvious distrust until Cat leaned behind Jeremy to give him an okay. Jeremy didn’t miss the curious look Torres sent between them, but the Wildcats’ captain didn’t comment.
Either Connors got what he wanted with that brief meet-and-greet or someone filed a complaint with the organizers in Jeremy’s absence; either way, the Bobcats stayed far away from him the remainder of the night. Jeremy was able to focus on the rest of the teams, and he did his best to introduce Jean to everyone he knew. As expected, Jean’s proficiency in English appeared indirectly proportional to how personal the conversations got. Jeremy did his best to steer the conversation back on track every time it strayed to Jean’s family or the Ravens.