Bad, Bad Bluebloods(Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #2) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,31

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