Page 82 of The Cheerleader

I turn and—holy shit—my heart goes boom, then stutters into overdrive. Bryan is standing in the doorway, flanked by several teammates including Dane, Mack, and Lenny.

Bryan meets my stare, and I feel it like his eyes are flamethrowers.

Which doesn’t explain why I feel compelled to go to him like he’s some kind of psychic drawing me in by mental telepathy.

“Why are you standing in the doorway? The party is inside.” I’m teasing because he’s never inclined to party, and right now he looks more like he wants to punch someone.

“We have a curfew.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

Dane stands behind him, grinning over his shoulder. “Yeah, Bryan. What are we doing here?”

Bryan elbows him in the gut, and Dane punches his shoulder, and the other guys snicker.

“The coaches weren’t around, so we came to find them.”

“You found them.” I turn and notice Coach Morse glaring in our direction from the dance floor. “Coach doesn’t look happy.”

“Go back up to your rooms,” Bryan says to his teammates.

“What about you?” Dane says.

“Someone’s got to answer to Coach.”

That wipes away Dane’s smile. He grunts, and he and the others disappear back down the hallway to the elevators.

“What are you really doing here?”

“Checking up on Liz.” He nods a chin in her direction, where she’s still dancing with Coach. I’d swear she’s trying to keep him distracted, to keep him from coming over to scold Bryan.

“She’s good.” A small part of me deflates in disappointment as if I’d hoped he was here to see me, but even if he was, I doubt he’d admit it. I’m not sure how long Liz is good for since she switched to straight vodka, but if no one lends her money or buys one for her, she can’t afford another.

“How drunk is she?”

“You’re blunt.”

He waits me out.

“I don’t know. She was buzzed but okay when we came down⁠—”

“You were drinking in your rooms.”

I nod and smile. “We have no restrictions, no chaperone.” I turn to glance at the dance floor and notice Coach Morse excusing himself and heading our way. “Shit.”

“Watch out for Liz,” he says under his breath and steps around me to meet Coach head-on.

I murmur something about returning to the dance floor and leave them to have their discussion without trying to hear what Coach is saying because it’s going to be harsh.

Amazingly, Liz is the first one up in the morning, even though we were up last night till eleven thirty. I’m right behind her. Soon the whole squad is dressed in our uniforms and ready to take the bus to the field at the Naval Academy.

“Do you think they’d let us have a tour of the campus?” I ask as we stow our luggage under the bus, climb on, and take our seats at the front as instructed.

“I didn’t think to ask,” Liz says.

I whisper, “That vodka drink didn’t bother you at all, did it?” This is the first time I’ve had a chance to speak to her alone, and I can’t help my concern.

She grins. “I only had one of those. Of course not.”