Basically, it’s hell on earth.
“What are you doing in here?” I whisper as Zack comes up to stand beside me, towering over me like he always does. I know it’s not on purpose, but it’s intimidating. I refuse to let it get to me, and lift my chin in defiance, trying to make myself feel a little taller.
“Well, I really didn’t expect you to be in here, so you can’t claim I’m stalking you.” He tucks his hands in his pockets and just stares at me. I can feel his gaze like a heated laser, searching across my face, seeking … something. It bugs me, but I also refuse to back down. “I’m a guest judge for tryouts.” He shrugs his shoulders again, as if that makes it all better.
“You are a guest judge?” I ask, and I get a rare smirk from him, this sensual twisting of lips that makes me realize so very quickly why all those girls are swooning over there. Zack leans in close, putting his forearm on the wall above my head. He’s all around me in that moment, hard muscles and musky smelling cologne. My lashes flutter, and I exhale past the hormones. Last year, they got me into trouble. This year, I won’t let that happen again. “What makes you qualified to judge cheerleading?”
“Um, my sister Kelsey was the head of the Burberry Prep cheerleading team.” Zack leans in a little closer, his letterman jacket falling open in the front, encompassing me. It’d be so easy for him to scoop me up and bundle me inside of it. That is, if I didn’t hate his guts. “Also, my mom went through a spell where she was tired of being more than a boring ass trophy wife; she coached for like three seasons.”
“I see …” I exhale, and blink a few times to clear away the cobwebs. I’d really like him to move away from me, but I feel like I can’t say it. I don’t want him to know how his presence is affecting me. “So … you’ll make sure I get on the team then?”
Zack’s brows go up, and a dark chuckle reverberates through him. I swear, I can feel it vibrating the air molecules between us.
“Are you asking me for help in your revenge plot?” He pauses for a second and shakes his head. “Not that you’ve needed much help thus far. Sinking the cars, that was brilliant. And Becky is still crying over her hair.”
“Get me on the team,” I tell him, staying firm. When he reaches out to touch a stray strand of rose gold hair, that’s when I call it quits, ducking underneath his arm and putting my back to the room. Zack watches me and sighs, dropping his hand to his side.
“Done.” The smirk disappears from his mouth and he frowns at me again. My mind conjures up an image of him dumping a garbage can full of used feminine products on my desk, and I almost throw up. I started my period earlier than most of the other girls, and I was mercilessly destroyed for it. Just one of the many, many things he did to me. I’ll never forget that. “That is, I can fix my vote, and I can probably convince Amy to give you some good marks.” The way he smiles when he says that tells me he thinks very highly of himself with the ladies. But then the frown’s back as quick as the smile came. “Other than that, you’re on your own. Do you know anything at all about cheerleading?”
My turn to vaguely shrug my shoulders.
“I was busy this summer,” I tell him cryptically, turning and heading into the center of the gym. I push right through the crowd of girls, ignoring the whispered insults, and then lean down to sign the form on the table. The coach blinks at me in surprise and raises her eyebrows, but she doesn’t say anything, just hands me a number, and tells me to get in line.
Zack takes his place behind the table as Coach Hannah explains how tryouts are going to work. The only girls who are here are the ones who were on the team before, plus a few first years like Ileana. That’s it.
I’m the only outlier.
The only hated one.
“You’re going to wish you’d never trashed my brother or my pool,” Ileana whispers as she takes up my right side, and Kiara stands on my left.
“Did you really think Tristan was into you?” Kiara asks, scowling in my direction. Her dark hair is slicked back into a tight bun, making her face seem even more severe. It takes every ounce of effort I have not to imagine her bent over that counter in the bathroom. “He never liked you. He’s on his way to being one of the most powerful men in the world. Did you really think some commoner trash like you would satisfy him?”
I ignore her as the coach speaks quietly with her assistant for a moment. My eyes meet Zack’s from across the room. His gaze is so dark, so unreadable. It makes me want to pry it open and see what’s going on inside. My original plan had been to destroy his football career. But I’m still not sure how to go about doing that without injuring him, and I refuse to hurt anyone physically. I nibble on my bottom lip as Kiara leans in close to me, frustrated with my lack of response to her taunts.
Once upon a time, the Marnye Reed I used to be would’ve felt those barbs deep down in her soul. She would’ve bled on the inside, cried on the out, and gone home to curl into a ball on her bed. Not anymore. Not ever again.
“How many times did you spread your whore legs for him before he dumped you like the useless slut you are?” Anger flares sharp and hot inside of me, but I ignore it. Kiara elbows me as hard as she can in the side, and I grunt, but before I can retaliate, Coach is turning back to face us.
Damn it!
Exhaling against the pain in my ribs, I listen to her instructions and toss my bag aside. I’m already dressed in my PE sweats and tank top, a sports bra, and sneakers. I can do this. I spent all summer working out, swimming, running. I’m in the best shape of my life.
We start with a warm up that I’m totally self-conscious about thanks to Zack. I can feel his eyes watching my every movement, tracing the beads of sweat on my forehead, the moisture sticking my shirt to my body. He leans forward, eyes heavy lidded but nowhere near as lazy as Creed. Instead, he looks … interested. My heart thunders as I struggle to keep up with the assistant coach and her quick, strong movements.
By the time it’s over, I feel like I might pass out. The pain in my ribs is killing me, and I’m pretty sure if I had a knife, I’d stab both Kiara and Ileana. One is dark-haired, fair-skinned, and slender while the other is pale-haired, tan-skinned, and curvy. I hate them both equally. They flank me as I drink from my water bottle, and I make sure to stay out of their reach. Their eyes, however, follow me around the room, and when I step away from my water, I’m pretty sure they mess with it.
Sigh.
Since it’s Friday, they both have their phones and they make no attempts to hide the fact that they’re using them.
I’m assuming it’s to text the Idols, because we’re just getting ready to line up to learn the dance when the gym doors open, and Tristan walks in with Harper at his side. She’s spitting mad, but nowhere near the level that Becky’s at. The way she glares at me … looks might not be able to kill, but I can feel the hatred on my skin like the searing heat of a scorching sun. My flesh feels like it’s liable to peel off under her gaze.
She’s got her long, blond hair tucked up in a bun, but it’s impossible to miss the naked patch on the left side of her scalp. Harper might not know it, but she’s next. I don’t know how or when, but it’s totally happening.
Zayd follows in behind Becky, his jaw so tight it looks like he might crack his teeth. His tattoos are bright and colorful, tracing their way up his muscular arms and disappearing briefly under the thin sleeve of his black wife beater. He’s got on baggy jeans with zippers stitched across them, and Doc Martens. Basically, he’s the opposite of Tristan with his freshly pressed white academy slacks, flawless jacket, and super straight tie.
Creed is somewhere in the middle, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, a pair of jeans and Barker Blacks paired with it. They might not technically be doing in-school suspension anymore, but they’re also not allowed off-campus until after Halloween. If they’re caught breaking that rule, it’s an automatic expulsion.
I smile.
I’ve really fucked their party schedule up.
The Idols take a seat on the bleachers, a cadre of Bluebloods behind them. I recognize the usual suspects: Myron Talbot, Ebony Peterson, Gregory Van Horn, John Hannibal, Valentina Pitt, Sai Patel, and Jalen Donner.
The remaining girls: Anna, Abigail, and Mayleen are all here trying out for the team.
Looks like they have yet to find a replacement for Andrew, and I already know Ileana is Miranda’s replacement. Great. So … the party’s all here then?
It’s impossible not to feel their eyes on me as I take my place in the center of the group. There’s a visible amount of extra space around me, like I’m some sort of leper. I ignore it and focus on the dance moves instead. Well … the dance moves … and Zack’s eyes.
There’s something about his dark gaze that draws me in, focuses me. At first, it bothers me so much that I stumble and mess up the steps. Laughter bubbles up from the bleachers, but I ignore it. My attention becomes laser focused on the way Zack’s watching me, his lips parting slightly, his lids getting heavier and heavier. At one point, he even runs his tongue across his lower lip, catches himself doing it, and curses. Amy Plumber, a fourth year seated next to him, jumps a whole foot in her seat, and I feel a grin split my lips.
We go over the dance several times before coach calls for another break. After this, we’ll come out in groups of three and perform it in a row. Scores will be passed out, and after, members will be chosen for the team. I have to get on it. I have to invade their spaces. By lifting myself up, I put them down. And that’s their own problem. My success should have nothing to do with them, but it pisses the Bluebloods off. Infuriates them. When I succeed, they feel like they’ve failed. If that’s how they want to live their lives, I’m okay with that.
During the next water break, the entire crew heads over to worship at the Idols’ feet, leaving me alone with the bottles, duffel bags, and an entire span of time where nobody is looking.