Sworn Enemies - Rebel Hart Page 0,28
guy is just worried about making a buck off this rivalry he’s blowing up, and you put way too much faith in this woman, who I’d like to point out you haven’t stopped talking about once since you met her.”
I hunched my brow. “What does that mean?”
He rolled his eyes. “Nothing. Just, the point is, everyone is looking out for themselves. You should try it.”
“You’re saying it’s a bad thing that I expect people to do what’s right?” I asked, confused.
That question softened Daniel a bit. “No. That’s a wonderful thing, but unfortunately, you live in a world that will eat virtues like that alive. It’s fine that you expect the best from people, but you have to practice a little bit of discernment. It’s better to assume the worst and be proven wrong than to assume the best and be proven wrong.”
“I guess.” I stabbed my fork into a piece of my steak. “I just don’t want to be that jaded.”
“How you ever made it to twenty-three without being jaded by this world is anyone’s guess.” He took a few more bites of his potatoes before looking up again. “I just don’t like seeing you so frustrated.”
“I thought Wright wanted to help me, okay? He said it seemed like a shame I was shackled down by the semi-pros.”
“Sounds more like a threat than a compliment to me.” I tilted my head to the side in confusion, so he continued. “He wanted you to know he had that power. He had every intention of pulling this switcheroo on you, so he made sure to mention that he had the power to do something about your pro status so that you knew he was just as capable of giving it to you as he was of taking it away.”
My head was starting to pound. “I didn’t even think about it like that.”
“Jaded may suck, but it breaks any rose-colored glasses, that’s for certain.” Daniel scooted my beer a little closer to me. “Sorry, Zeke.” He looked over my shoulder at the TV. “Maybe he played her, too.”
I looked over, and Quinn was standing on the screen, smiling blindly as an interviewer talked with her about her new opportunity.
“Maybe,” I agreed.
It didn’t change anything for me. If I didn’t hate her before, I certainly did now. Anyone who made a mockery of my sport and couldn’t be trusted—to me, that person was lower than dirt.
11
Quinn
Standing on the fields of Mont High School felt like being transported back in time in the best way. I stared out over the field, now awash with players locked in a heated game, and smiled. It had been almost seven years since I first stormed out onto that field and demanded that I be allowed to try out for the team. Several of the players laughed at me and told me to try out for the girls’ powderpuff flag football team that only played amongst themselves. I had no problem with those girls, but they weren’t playing the kind of football I wanted to play. I wanted the nitty-gritty. I wanted to feel the weight of someone else toppling beneath me when I crashed into them. I wanted that stinging pain that came with being barreled down myself, the kind that hung on long after the final whistle and reminded me that I still had work to do. I wanted the men’s team, and I wouldn’t settle for less.
I had stomped onto the field with a chip on my shoulder and a full speech prepared. I had done the research. I had looked at Mont High’s entire football history. I was ready. I marched right up to the coach, looked him in his eyes, and said, “You need to let me try out for this team.”
It almost shocked me more when he simply said, “Okay,” than it would have if he had complained. Then, he said something that changed my life. “Don’t expect special treatment.”
It sent chills racing over my skin and down my spine. No one had ever said something like that to me before, not even my dad. That was exactly what I had been fighting for. I didn’t want special treatment. I wanted someone to look at me and give me an opportunity to prove myself, without handicaps or judgment. I ran the same drills as everyone else, and when I took one of his largest guys down to the turf, I looked up and saw the coach had a small smile on his