continue, before she can get a word in. “Considering you’re the only person I really know, and the only female I talked to today, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out.” I offer her a wide smile, one that’s so sweet, it’s almost sickly. I swear, my cheeks are beginning to ache from smiling so much.
Predictably, Mariabella’s face drops and guilt crosses her pretty face.
“I’m sorry. I totally would, but I have—” As I expected, her eyes light up with her grand epiphany, one I not so subtly hinted at throughout the day. “You used to do cheerleading, right?” She doesn’t wait for me to respond, barreling ahead while bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I know tryouts already occurred, but I know the coach well. I’m sure she’ll allow you on the team!”
“Really!?” I try to infuse my words with the correct amount of enthusiasm. When I get a weird glance from a girl standing opposite me in the hallway, I tone it down a notch. “That would be amazing!”
“All right! Yay!” Quickly, as if she has to stop me from changing my mind, Mariabella links her arm with mine and pulls me in the direction of the football field. “This is going to be so much fun. The girls are seriously amazing, and Mrs. Watson—that’s our coach, by the way—is incredible. She did college cheerleading all four years and won nationals three times! We’re so fortunate to have her here with us.”
I nod along, as if this is all new information, but the truth is, I studied Mrs. Watson in depth before I arrived. Not only is she a college national cheerleader, but she’s also a damn good coach. Since she took over the program, nearly three years ago, she’s made High Groves one of the best cheer teams in the division. My research shows that she married her high school sweetheart at the ripe age of twenty-five, and at twenty-six, she became the youngest coach in the school’s history.
She’s also a stickler for the rules, fierce and dedicated, and unbending in her belief that hard work is the only acceptable answer to achieve success.
To be frank, she’s my kind of person.
Mariabella continues chatting as we head to the locker room, now nearly empty, and change into our workout clothes again. This time, Mariabella forgoes the top, wearing nothing but a sports bra and spandex. I once more hide inside the stall and change into my own pair of spandex shorts and a long-sleeve shirt that conforms to my breasts and arms. Unlike the last one, however, this one cuts off just under my chest, revealing my toned belly.
Back in middle school, my skin had consistently been a pasty shade of alabaster with a splatter of golden freckles from the sun. My time in California has brought about a deep, bronze tan that heightens the white of my hair and the amber of my eyes. It’s not dark enough to be considered fake, but it’s not light enough to go unnoticed.
And no, I didn’t tan for the Devils. This has nothing to do with them. I did it for me and me alone. I wanted to feel good about myself, for once in my life. So I cut my once ass-length hair, developed a natural tan, and started wearing makeup to emphasize my “weird” and “unusual eyes.” I embraced all of the things that made me different, and I did so with pride.
We find Mrs. Watson standing on the track of the football field, arms folded over her chest. She really is a pretty woman, with a mane of chestnut hair and gray-blue eyes. She turns expectantly towards Mariabella when we approach before her eyes trail to me. Suspicion clouds her gaze as she glances between the two of us wordlessly.
“What do we have here?” She cocks a single eyebrow as the rest of the cheer team, most of whom I don’t recognize, crowds around her.
“Peony,” Mariabella introduces. “She’s a new student. Apparently, she did cheer back at her old school in California, but she missed the tryouts here.”
I’m dimly aware of the football players staggering onto the field. I spot Emmett’s sandy blond hair as he races forward, wearing a pair of loose shorts and a wife-beater, before my attention drifts to Karsyn.
The man is a fucking Greek god. From this distance, his blond hair appears to have numerous highlights throughout—streaks of molten gold, rivulets of crimson, and strands of chestnut brown. He’s shirtless,