into our U of J gear after our meeting.
“Why do I feel like we’re going to be drawn and quartered for wearing enemy colors?” T says out the side of her mouth.
There’s no way to stop the laugh that escapes me. “It’s scary how easily you Taylors read my mind.”
Having only ever cheered for a club team, this is the first time I’ve gotten to experience gameday preparation up close. Poms are ruffled, megaphones are stood up, and signs are stacked and laid out in order for easy access to guide the crowd in cheers for their team.
“You ladies are going to have people questioning my loyalty to the Tide coming here like that.” Coach Price points to my Nova shirt and T’s own More extra than the point after a touchdown. GO HAWKS!
“Not gonna lie”—I shake the hand held out to me—“Tessa and I are a little concerned about making it out of here alive.”
“You’ll be fine. I doubt anyone would want to do anything to piss off your guy.” Coach Price points to Mason’s name on my shirt, and I grin as he takes us around and introduces us to his cheerleaders.
It doesn’t take long for them to put together who both T and I are—for cheer connections, not football—and to call over some of the co-ed squad. There’s been so much focus on the whole Casanova’s mystery girl side of things, I kind of forgot most of this started by my identity being leaked from a cheerleading video. It seems the viral video of JT and me messing around with stunts in a hotel’s banquet hall was quite memorable.
The curiosity only grows once they realize Tessa is JT Taylor’s younger sister. A blush overtakes T’s creamy complexion, and for as much as I want to go into full-on older sister bragging mode, I choose to stay quiet as to not add to her embarrassment.
With T fully entrenched with the Bama cheerleaders, I step to the side to see if I can use this as my opportunity to put my own part of the plan into action.
In a stroke of luck, Em and Q are actually the first to notice me, both their jaws hanging open in shock when they do. Q’s eyes dart around like How the hell are you down here? as one of Em’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows rises in a You do know you’re on the wrong side, right? I hook a thumb to where T is surrounded by Bama cheerleaders then point to our football team, hoping she picks up on what I need her to do.
As any good best friend would do, Em does, and I hold my breath as I watch her jog over to where Mase and Trav are huddled by their team bench. I’m too far away to read her lips, but she pokes Mase in the shoulder pad then points to me.
From across the field, I can make out the confusion written on both their faces, until they follow the line of Em’s arm. The moment Mase spots me, his entire expression shifts, a wolfish smile replacing the scowl that was on his lips. Without hesitation or regard for Coach Knight shouting at him, Mase darts across the turf to the enemy’s sideline.
I let out a startled squeak as I’m lifted into his arms and spun in a full circle. When he finally sets me down, my foot brushes the helmet he must have dropped to the ground to pick me up. I step on it, but even with it to stand on, there’s still a few inches of height difference between us. I wrap my arms around his neck, resting my forearms along the space left between it and his pads. “Hey.”
“Hey?” Mase’s arms loop around my middle, pulling until my body is flush against his. “That’s all you have to say for yourself?”
Ooo, someone’s still in a mood, my inner cheerleader singsongs.
“What?” I run a thumb over the 87 Bette shaved in the side of his head last night. “You said you needed your pregame kiss.”
He growls, legit growls at me and squeezes me tighter. “Do you have any idea how pissed I was thinking I wasn’t getting it?”
“Well if the guys’ texts were any indication…” I let my words trail off as I giggle. If the narrowing of his eyes is anything to go by, I’m the only one finding humor in the situation.
“Give me my damn good luck kiss, woman,” he demands.
Pushing up onto my