Chapter Two

And five, six, seven, eight. Go! Allison watched the leader carefully, following her every move and attempting to duplicate each step in time with the recorded music. She was one of several dozen girls trying out for next year’s cheer squad. Three spots had opened up because of transfers and dropouts. Allison didn’t know about the other girls who were competing, but it was super important for her to make the team. In fact, there were times it felt like her whole life depended on it.

Her mother had been a cheerleader, and her sister too, so Allison had a lot to prove. She’d failed in her Freshman bid. In September, she’d be a Sophomore, so this was basically her last shot. Nobody chose a Junior or Senior to be a first-year cheerleader, especially when their closest experience was twirling a baton in a St. Patrick’s Day Parade in high school.

In the middle of a spin move, she lost her balance and missed a step. It took her a couple beats to recover. Deep breaths, Allison. You can do it. Her mother might not think so and her sister might laugh at her for even trying, but dammit, someone had to believe in her.

»»•««

The team was antsy for summer break, but that didn’t stop Coach Fairchild from scheduling a practice right after the graduation ceremony. Tony was inclined to blow it off, but the coaching staff drilled it into his head that if he failed to show up on time and prove himself during practice, he’d find himself warming a bench for most, if not all, of next season.

Whatever. Tony dismissed their empty threats. He’d been breaking rules since grade school and by now it was part of his nature. Hell, he’d still be smoking pot if the team hadn’t put him on a not-so-random drug screening schedule. Even if he couldn’t get away with using, there were plenty other rules he could bend, like the personal grooming rules, for example. The coaches were freaky about appearance, so Tony usually left his thick black hair uncombed and wore it just past his ears—short enough not to get cited and long enough to make the staff cringe. It was also against team rules to sport a beard on game days, but Tony wore a scruff anyway.

On his way to the lockers, he pulled off his tie and undid the top few buttons. He took a shortcut through the gymnasium in the sports complex, and was pleasantly surprised to find a cheer tryout underway. This should be interesting, he thought. Pretty girls all in a row wearing shorter-than-short shorts and skimpy tops bouncing around to rousing music. He grabbed a seat in the bleachers to enjoy the spectacle.

He leaned forward and cracked his knuckles. This little detour just might prompt Tony to break one of his own rules—his self-imposed no-sex rule. He’d sworn off women for the past six months because of that chick who accused him of date rape. That experience kind of took the excitement out of a hook-up.

Tony licked his lips. He didn’t know where to look first as six rows of girls danced in unison, their tennis shoes squeaking against the high-polished wood floor. Shapely thighs flexing. Bountiful breasts bouncing. Copious curves in motion. Tony was mentally narrowing down the top three choices for his next conquest, and the next three, and the three after that when his lustful decision was disrupted. A girl in the second row distracted his attention, but not because of how pretty she was. She caught his eye because she was dancing a couple of beats behind everyone else.

For some reason, she looked up into the stands and her blue eyes locked with Tony’s. He could tell his stare unnerved her, but he couldn’t look away.

Soon those two beats off became four beats, then eight beats. When she attempted a toe-touch—kicking her leg high and touching her toe with her fingers—she stumbled, falling into the girl next to her who fell on the girl next to her. In an instant, the whole row tumbled like a line of dominoes, and seven girls were lying on the floor shouting obscenities at the clumsy blonde.

Instead of being horrified, like most of the witnesses, Tony burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it. All morning, he’d been sitting in the hot sun overdressed, listening to stuffy speeches on overly serious subjects, and finally something unexpected happened.

The would-be cheerleader’s eyes widened when Tony’s guffaw reached her ears, resonating several octaves lower than the girls who were shrieking at her. She blinked back her tears, scrambled to her feet, and raced out of the gym.

»»•««

Allison’s sobs echoed through the cheerleader’s locker room. She sucked in some air mid-cry and began to cough. Resting her forehead against one of the metal lockers, she chastised herself. Stop it! Do not cry. Crying is for babies. That’s what her mother would tell her.

Her head was hot and damp with perspiration. She bent over a sink and splashed water on her face. Then she reached for a paper towel from the dispenser and blotted her skin, avoiding the mirror above the sink.

She’d spent half the morning getting her hair and makeup just right and she couldn’t bear to see the mess of a girl staring back. She inadvertently took a peek. The combination of embarrassment and anger combined to create pink splotches on her fair complexion. Lovely.

Clenching her teeth, she rolled the elastic ponytail holder out of her long, blonde hair, letting the waves cascade around her face. The ponytail had become unbearably tight and releasing it let her hide her face behind a curtain of hair.

She pushed herself away from the sink she’d been leaning on. Her palms were still red from hitting the gymnasium floor when she fell. “Dayum him,” she shouted at the walls, her Georgia accent making the curse sound less hostile than she meant it.

Pacing the length of the locker room, she fumed at the boy who caused her to screw up her tryout routine. Didn’t he know how hard this was for her? Just working up the courage to register for preliminary tryouts was a big deal for Allison. There were only a few positions open and the odds of winning a spot were minuscule, especially for someone with no experience.

Allison knew she was a long shot. At five feet six and a hundred twenty-three pounds, her light blonde hair, azure eyes and large chest gave her the perfect look to be a cheerleader, but they didn’t help her personality. She wasn’t perky and animated and fun and confident. She wasn’t the kind of girl that guys or other girls gravitated to. Even at nineteen, she was shy and lacked self-confidence and really had to force herself outside her comfort zone to try out for the Barracudas’ cheer squad.

EFU was supposed to be a fresh start in a new state where no one knew her. She’d been itching for independence, to come out from the shadow of her overbearing mother and overly perfect sister. She wanted to be different from the girl she’d been back home. As a mid-size regional university, EFU was large enough that she’d be able to meet a diverse variety of people from all over the country, but small enough that she wouldn’t feel overwhelmed. The school offered all the liberal arts programs, but its claim to fame was a world-class athletics program. Whenever anyone mentioned EFU, the first things came to mind were the football and basketball teams that were always in contention for a title.

“Dayum him,” she repeated, punching one of the metal lockers with the side of her fist. “Ouch!” She shook out the pain. Her knees hurt as much as her hands. She scuffed them too when she fell.

If Tony Ramos was standing in front of her, she’d punch him, if she didn’t lose the nerve. Yes, she knew who that guy was. When she first locked eyes with him, looking sharp in that button-down with his tie hanging loose around his neck, she didn’t recognize him. All she saw was a tall, dark, handsome man admiring her, his golden-brown bedroom eyes searing through her. His striking good looks literally threw her off balance.

It wasn’t until he started laughing that she realized who he was. She’d seen him play for the Barracudas and she’d seen pictures of him in EFUsion, the school paper. She also heard he got suspended after being accused of date rape, that he was a stoner, a screw-up and a loser. So how dare he sit in judgment of her? How dare he laugh at her when he himself was a laughing stock?

“It’s not fair,” she sniffled, leaning her head against the locker once again.