Irritation flickers in his eyes. “I don’t stare at you. Why would I stare?”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, quarterback.” I arch an eyebrow at him and turn to lean against my car. Once I’m not facing him, I smile to myself. But I’m exhausted. Keeping up this chirpy act is tiring.
He can be a grouch if he wants to, but I’m curious how long he can keep it up.
Two can play at this game.
“You know I’m a wide receiver and not a quarterback, right?”
“That does ring a bell, actually.” I play with my cuticles. “Why don’t you tell me about that whole two-point convention thingy again?”
“Conversion,” he corrects me. “It’s called a two-point conversion. Do you seriously not know a thing about football? You’re on a cheerleading team. You’re supposed to know this stuff.”
Now I’ve got him talking. That’s probably the most he’s said to me in one go all day.
I lift my shoulders in a shrug. “Am I? I think all I’m supposed to do is stand on the sidelines and look pretty.”
“Cheerleaders are more than looking pretty,” is his casual response, surprising me.
I hum, nodding. I can’t tell if Nathan’s being serious or pulling my leg, but his face is blank as his eyes dart from each feature of my face.
He’s standing there, bathed in the golden light. The rays highlight every angle of him, his sharp and defined face looking like Gods sculpted it.
His shirt clings to him in the heat, but he isn’t sweaty. In fact, he smells like citrus—lemony and fresh. I’m not even sure if he’s wearing cologne or if it’s just his natural manly scent fixing with the smell of his laundry detergent.
My suspicion is the latter.
“Why is there a no-fraternisation rule?” I blurt out, and Nathan’s eyes go comically wide for a second before he composes himself. “Has it always been that way? Signing a contract seems a little excessive.”
“Do you always talk this much?” His words could be mistaken for judgment, but looking at Nathan’s face, he’s genuinely wondering—face, perhaps a little pissed off.
“When I’m curious, yeah.”
He averts his eyes. “The rule was only put into practice this season. Before then, no one had ever really spoken about it. But hushed relationships got in the way. So,” he gestures his hands outward, “hence the contract.” His brows tighten. “Look, I’m sure you’ve got stuff to do, and so do I. I can’t spend all day explaining things to you.”
I hum, unaffected, taking note of the dropping sun. I need to get home before it gets dark. My rental car’s headlights don’t work much better than a dying firefly.
Before I go, I shoot Nathan a small smile, telling him, “I was just messing with you all day, by the way. I did my research. I know a lot about football,” and I hear his exhale of frustration as I spin on my heel in the direction of my car.
Something is heavy on Nathan’s mind tonight. It’s obvious with the way he plays during the game.
His limbs look heavy—like some invisible force is weighing him down. His face is sharper than usual, and I pick up on how he scans the bustling crowd, his eyebrows pinching and nostrils flaring. As if he’s searching for someone.
He doesn’t move with the fluidity I expect him to. His movements are jerky and calculated, and his opponents can predict his next move before he puts it into play, meaning they take control of the ball for most of the first two quarters.
I can’t make out what the crowd are saying, but it’s clear they’re not happy. I have to give the team props because they completely ignore them, blocking them and their complaints out.
I stand on the sidelines, shimmying my pom-poms. The red and white cheerleading outfit that’s too small causes my breasts to spill out more than I think is acceptable. I thank whoever is looking over me that all I have to do is stand by and hype up the crowd without needing to perform any of the routines tonight.
I’m not sure I’d survive the mortification of having my tits fall out on live television.
Although I’m sure it would make me pretty popular.
Nathan and I meet eyes from across the grass, and his gaze drops to my breasts for a split second before he blinks, shakes his head and averts them, zoning back into the game.
I can feel my skin beginning to flush.
He catches the ball and shoves his way past a few players from the opposing team who try to take him down. I swear I can hear their bones snapping and bodies twanging.
