Clash

“You really have thought this through,” I said, telling myself the guy beside me wasn’t purposefully brushing up against me.

“Location, location, location,” she quoted, smoothing my dress down before lifting my boobs higher.

The mouth of the guy behind Holly dropped.

“Stop,” I demanded, shooing her hands that were now molding my boobs into position.

“Fine,” she said, giving them one final pop. “Just remember. The diva to end all divas. And slip those panties into his hand the first time Vix tries something.”

I nodded in acknowledgement. Diva, diva, diva. Think like a diva, act like a diva. Diva is a state of mind. My mental encouragement to myself wasn’t helping, so I decided to put some diva theory into practice.

Turning to the guy still brushing up against me, I worked a half smile into place. Looking up at him through my lashes, I saw I’d caught his attention. “Sure is hot in here,” I said slowly, a tad suggestively.

Brushing Up Boy’s eyes widened; I could almost see the pulse quicken in his neck. “It sure is,” he replied, moving closer and resting a hand on my side.

“I could sure use something to cool me off.” I crossed one arm over my stomach, brushing the other hand up and down my other arm. The corners of his eyes lined watching my fingers caress my skin.

Wetting his lips, he came closer. Close enough to know I’d… ahem, hit the mark.

“I think I’m up to the challenge,” he said, one side of his mouth curving up.

“Hey, Mr. Over-eager,” Holly stepped in. “She means a drink. A cold drink.”

Shaking his head, he cleared his throat and stepped back. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “Sure. I’m on it.” Casting one longing look my way, he started tearing through the crowd, heading for the kitchen.

“You’re smart enough to know not to drink anything he gives you, right?” Holly said as we watched the boy storming ahead.

“Yeah,” I replied, shaking my head. “How was that for diva?”

“You’re a natural,” she said, nudging me. “Keep up the good work.”

The music came to an abrupt halt, a few heartbeats of silence saturating the room before the first few beats of “Eye of the Tiger” made the room shudder. All hail the victors, because if the song didn’t give them away, the chanting that had started outside and was working its way in had done the job.

“Show time,” Holly said, elbowing me.

“Will you stop throwing elbows?” I hissed over at her. “I’m going to look like a purple Dalmatian by the time you leave tomorrow.”

“Oh, grow a pair,” she muttered, focusing on the front door when it fired open. “Diva,” she added.

“Brat.”

“Ooooh. Burn,” she deadpanned, elbowing at me again.

This time, I dodged her bony little elbow.

The kicker, Kurt or Kirk, was the first through the door, one of the cheerleaders‌—‌no doubt his Spirit Sister‌—‌hanging off his elbow. Right behind the K named kicker, Tony came in, a petite bouncing blonde on his arm.

The players had never arrived in this fashion before; Jude usually just came barreling through the door first, hollering some obscenity, before throwing me over his shoulder and finding a quiet spot we could be alone.

I knew exactly who and what was responsible for the change in entrance. The who being Adriana Vix. And the what being a bitch.

“All right, Lucy, get into position,” Holly said, shuffling me in front of the door. “This chick’s coming out of the gates swinging.”

“No shit,” I said, shaking my head as the parade continued. I wasn’t holding my breath for Jude; I knew she was saving their entrance for the grand finale.

“Here, lean your hip into this,” Holly instructed, shuffling me sideways until I hip-checked an old, water damaged sofa table. Standing in front of me, she positioned my hip where she wanted it, then grabbed my hand. “Hand on hip, feet crossed at the ankles.” She squatted down, adjusting them just so. Popping back up, her gaze met mine with a hardened degree of seriousness. “When he walks in and his eyes fall on you, I want your eyes to emanate innocence. And I want your mouth to open just a bit‌—‌just like it does during orgasm.” Clamping her hands over my shoulders, she leveled me with one more look. “Got it?”

“Sure?” I answered, because there wasn’t any time for clarification. I could see the top of Jude’s shaved head coming up the front stairs. A shiny dark haired head a few bobbing inches below it.

“Put a nail in that bitch’s casket,” Holly said, driving her fist into her hand before disappearing into the crowd.

Even obscured by a mass of bodies, Jude moving into a room made my heart quicken. Even with a male fantasy glued to his arm, he made my legs weaken.

As I’d expected, Adriana was beaming like she was walking across the Miss America stage. I’d be honored to add some tears to her eyes if she didn’t loosen her grip on Jude’s arm. Bouncing into the room like she was the star attraction, she waved at the crowd while the chorus thumped through the room. She was wearing a simple, short, turquoise colored dress that made her skin almost sparkle in its bronziness.

The crowd was chanting, “Ry-Der. Ry-Der. Ry-Der,” and my heart was beating two beats a syllable. He’d changed into a snug fitting white v-neck tee and dark jeans that hung off his hips, finished off with his worn pair of Converse.