“You don’t want to be a cheerleader, do you? Are you in class with Sammy?” I clammed up for a few seconds. Too many questions.
“Poppy never shuts up. You’ll get used to it.” Ari grinned.
I didn’t know how to react, so I smiled and answered the last question.
“Yeah, Sammy’s in my class.”
“I saw her together with James before,” Ari whispered to Amelia, who immediately looked nauseated.
“Please, let’s not start with that bitch,” she snapped, adjusting her top.
Her catlike eyes darkened even more as another girl walked toward us. It was the blond I’d seen with James at the vending machines on the first day.
“That’s Taylor.” Poppy wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“I didn’t see you at morning practice. I’m talking to you three,” said Taylor, addressing Poppy, Ari, and Amelia. “If you screw up one step, even one, I swear I’ll cut you from the team right then and there.”
Then she glared at me.
“And you are?”
Certainly not a goddess on earth like you.I kept that response to myself and just muttered, “June.”
“Well, get lost, twerp. The first row is for cheerleaders.”
We all know that every school has their bitchy queen bee, but this was a bit much.
“She’s with me. She can sit here,” Amelia interrupted, coming to my defense.
“Technically, she’s not—” Poppy interjected, but Amelia motioned for her to shut up.
The head cheerleader intensified her gaze, staring at them one by one. Then she called her friend. “Tiffany?”
I recognized the chick who was out of breath as she joined them. It was the redhead who’d been with James. Was there any girl he hadn’t had his greasy paws on?
“Tell me, Taylor.”
“Can you remind these four bimbos who’s in charge here?”
“You?” she asked Tiffany, with an amused snicker.
“And who decides who can sit in this row and who should get the fuck out?”
“Bravo, it’s always you.” I groaned impatiently. “What do you want, a cookie? I’m leaving.” I turned around and walked along the first row of seats.
“June, sit here. Don’t go.” Amelia chased after me and pointed to the first row of bleachers where there was a duffel bag overflowing with bottles. “I’ll leave you with the water bottles.”
“Thanks. You know how to make me feel useful,” I muttered as I sat down.
Amelia went back to the team and started to warm up as the players filed onto the field. Brian was the first one out. He was wearing a white jersey with the number15on it.
James Hunter swaggered out a short time later. He strutted like he always did, with his trademark arrogant scowl. Once his teammates joined him, they started warming up. He wasn’t wearing his helmet, and the way he carried himself made him look like he was showing off, sparking a flutter of murmurs from a sea of girls. His jersey clung to him just right, the fabric emphasizing his lean frame as he strutted across the field.
Exhibitionist, I thought to myself.
I admired his rosy cheeks and the way his square jaw clenched as his eyes met Brian’s. They glared at each other.
James ripped his gaze away first, then grabbed a bottle from the duffel bag. The veins in his neck swelled as he chugged the water like he hadn’t had anything to drink in years. I immediately thought of his cologne. How absurd. I’d never smelled something so intensely that it was etched in my brain for days.
