Eddie shoots him a glare. Being the size of a mountain, his intimidation factor is usually off the charts. This afternoon it does nothing because Eddie, like the rest of us, is dressed in a cheerleading outfit. It comes complete with a skirt and the pompoms we lifted from the squad room. “Shut up, assface. Brody’s trying to be supportive of his girl.”
Damien snorts. “Just turning up to watch Jordan play should be enough.”
A growl emanates from Eddie’s chest. Plan B was his idea, generated from the locker room after training when we were high on endorphins. Now he believes after the entire hour we put in to practice our routine, we need to see it through. “Love is all about grand gestures. You wouldn’t understand.”
“You’re a hopeless romantic, Eddie, but we love you anyway.” Carter grins and slaps Eddie on the back as he steps up to the side of the field. He has two miniscule pigtails of hair tied up in ribbons, the only one willing to take it that far. It was hard enough finding a supersized skirt in our college colors that would fit Eddie.
With the game starting in fifteen minutes, we’re up soon. As the eight of us—including Jax and three other guys from the team—group by the sidelines, we start garnering attention. Necks strain in our direction and cameras start clicking. My Texas Bulls cap sits on my head, hiding my face. I set it backwards and turn, giving those closest a wink and a wave. Delighted laughter rings out at my gesture.
When the two soccer teams emerge from the locker rooms, the announcer comes on with perfect timing. His voice booms around the stadium gleefully. “We have something very special for your pre-game entertainment this afternoon, folks. Everyone please welcome to the field, The Colton Bullettes!”
“We’re up,” Eddie informs us and gives Damien a shove in the back. He stumbles on to the field.
We jog out behind him to the symphony of catcalls, unrestrained laughter, and suggestive hollers. I raise one pompom-ed arm up high and shake it, playing it up for the crowd. A breeze ripples down low across the field, fluttering my skirt. My motherfucking skirt. Damien’s right. Of all the dumb things I’ve done, this is up there.
We get in position by forming a line, legs shoulder-width apart, and hands on our hips. “Shake It Off,” by Taylor Swift blares out from the stadium speakers, filling the huge space with loud base and a girly pop sound. Cameras flash and I cringe. It’s not going to be pretty. There is no doubt this will cause a social media firestorm.
Our routine begins and already Carter bounces the wrong way. Eddie slaps him on the ass and he turns quickly. Our hips are grinding and pompoms waving when I risk searching out Jordan. Her team is lined up on the sidelines. Most are dying of hysterical laughter. She has a hand covering her eyes as if she can’t bear watching, but her fingers are spread as she peeks through them, her gaze fixed on my every move. When she sees me looking, the smile that breaks across her face is brighter then sunshine. I wink playfully and grin. She laughs hard and shakes her head, her face bright red.
We finish up our routine with the big finale, which is four of the guys crouching down, and the other four leaping over the top. It’s basic leapfrog and as a wide receiver, it should be a skill I can handle in my sleep. Hell, even a five-year-old could ace the move, but I’m too busy watching Jordan. My aim is off when I leap over Eddie’s mountainous crouched form. I end up with my legs half wrapped around the back of his neck and we both go down.
Eddie squeals like a girl. “Get your motherfucking balls off my neck, you sick bastard!”
He rears up and I overturn and hit dirt. “Oww, dipshit!”
When I get to my feet, I brush the grass from my face and bow to the spectators. Jax saunters over, gasping with laughter. He slings an arm over my shoulder as we walk off to thunderous applause.
“Dude,” he says when he catches his breath. “I nailed it. You, not so much.”
I look across at Jordan. She’s jogging into position on the field, her expression serious. Their team is down to the wire. Winning this game will take them to the semifinals of the NCAA National Championships. A quick glance in my direction shows laughter in her eyes and color blooming on her cheeks. “I got out of it what I came to do.”
“You have it bad, cousin.” Jax pulls me into a chokehold. “Just remember it was me she wanted first.”
His obnoxious comments usually roll off my back, but this one sets my teeth on edge. I shove him off, my voice hard. “Fuck off, Jax.”
The unexpected anger throws me off balance, but Jax only laughs, unfazed. “But it’s you she loves for some weird, unfathomable reason.”
The very idea sets my heart thumping at a furious pace. I rub a hand across my chest, trying to soothe the frantic beat. “Maybe.”
We reach the edge of the field and Carter holds up a hand, giving me a high five. “Dude, what’s with your eyes?”
I shrug. “Nothing, why?”
Jax turns for a look, his expression morphing to a puzzled frown. “They’re red. And your pupils are huge. You feeling okay?”
Shit. I’ve been lethargic all week. Not the kind of tired that’s fixed with a nap, but an exhaustion set deep in my bones. The bottle of Adderall was still in my drawer. I’ve taken the pills on and off over the past month, and taking a few more earlier today didn’t feel like such a big deal. I wanted tonight with Jordan to be perfect. And doctors prescribe these pills, so how dangerous can they be? “I’m just tired.”
The lie makes me uneasy. Damien and I share a mutual glance. He reaches over and slaps my back. “Dude. You’re good, right?”
“Hell yeah.” I grin but it’s more a baring of teeth because I hear his underlying question. Damien gave me that full bottle with no intention of asking for it back. It makes me wonder how many he has, and where he got them from. It’s something I ought to question, but there’s too much on my plate right now. Besides, Damien and I have known each other since high school. He’s not a damn drug dealer. “Everything’s coming up daisies.”
The game is finished and I’m leaning up against the brick wall of the building opposite the locker room. I’m doing my best to appear unobtrusive and failing because of the damn skirt.
My gaze is pinned to the locker room door. Even though I know Jordan’s not the type, I’m not willing to risk a change of mind and have her sneak out. She’s the last one to emerge. The moment I see her everything else fades. Her eyes lift, clear blue hitting mine. Pink tints her cheeks and a slow smile forms. It rocks me down to my toes. Fuck, but I don’t know how she undoes me this way. I unravel completely.
I give her a small wave. It’s a casual gesture that hides the welling emotion. She starts toward me. She looks beautiful with her hair out. Shiny waves spill over her shoulders and down her back. A black sweater hugs her top half and form-fitting jeans encase her legs, hiding nothing. God willing, I’ll be peeling those off later tonight and sinking myself inside her.
Jordan takes in my unchanged outfit as she gets closer and bites down on her bottom lip. “Ummm …”
I have a change of clothes in the car, but it can’t hurt to tease her a little first. I run a hand up one thickly muscled thigh and the hem of my skirt lifts suggestively. Is there anything more attractive then the hairy leg of a man in women’s clothing? “You like?”
A huff of laughter escapes her lips.
“I’m very expensive.” I purse my lips and scan her body. “But for you, twenty dollars.”
Jordan stops in front of me, brows high as she readjusts the heavy sports bag slung over her shoulder. “Are you hustling me?”
I cock my head. “That depends.”
“On?”
I sweep a hand down over my body. “On whether you want this fine specimen of man taking care of you tonight.”