Page 67 of Touchdown, Tennessee

So when I saw one tiny, anonymous comment on a college football forum—a comment from a while back that nobody paid attention to—that was a guy saying Andrew Peachel hadpunchedhim in a bar?

I literally didn’t believe it.

Nobody else on the gossip forum seemed to, either.

The comment was buried, forgotten, and eventually deleted by a moderator a few weeks later. I had to work from the archived version of the website to even know that it had ever existed.

Thatwas when I should have known there might be some truth to the statement.

I also knew that Iwasn’tgoing to write about it in my article.

But I couldn’t help but be attracted to this level of passion, spilling out of Andrew.

All pointed at me.

I breathed under his grip, feeling my chest rise and fall under his palms with every breath. He pushed down a little harder, as if he was expecting me to try to run for it.

“Andrew,” I said, unable to hide the thick desire in my voice.

“You,” he said, his voice low, “are the fucking worst.”

“I’m used to people hating me,” I told him. “I’ve had a lifetime of hatred being the only attention I get, Andrew.”

“I can’t stand this, Gray.”

“I know. But I’m not going to write about the goddamn bar fight, so can you chill out for a second?”

He blinked, shocked for the second time in under a minute. “Are you lying to me?”

“No, I am not lying. You have my word, on my grandmother’s life, onmylife, and on yours. I will not write about your goddamned bar fight. I don’t know who you punched, or why, but I won’t mention it.”

He gripped his hands harder onto my chest, getting in close to my face.

God.

Close enough to smell the sweet remnants of whiskey on him.

Close enough that I could lean in and bite his lower lip.

“You won’talludeto it, either?” he growled.

“Peach, I know you’re trying to be menacing, but it’s making me fucking hard, so there is somefullhonesty for you?—”

“Tell me you won’t even allude to it.”

“I won’t. I won’t mention anything relating to it, in any way. You have my word, Andrew, and I know that might not mean a lot to you, but I promise it does to me.”

He stared at me for a few more seconds.

Then he released me, leaving my body to slump against the brick wall.

I’d never seen him react like this before.

What set you off so much tonight?

He paced around the back lawn, running his hands through his hair, tilting his neck back to look up at the night sky. He looked like a frenzied gladiator.

“Why can’t you just write a fluffy puff piece article like every other article about sports in the TNU Weekly?” Andrew finally said.