12
Natalia
We were one side closer to the Wranglers’ bench and I was so nervous my knees were about to give way. Sam saw me as we walked toward the short end of the field. He didn’t just look at me. It was a full-body stare, raking over every inch of me. My spine tingled from it, remembering how he undressed me last night.
How he ran his tongue over my skin. How he kissed me. How he felt when he pushed into me, taking me somewhere I’d never been. I let him do things to my body I’d only heard about. It was incredible and magic and hot and all the things I needed to forget.
Presley tilted her head toward me. “Okay, something is up. You are totally off rhythm, Miss Ballerina.”
I glared at her. “Leave it alone.”
“Can’t. You’re making us all look bad.”
“That’s ridiculous.” I waved at the crowd. They wouldn’t know if I was off step. The men drooled at us and the women mainly ignored us.
We weren’t the attraction here. People only cared about what was going on behind us on the field. There were nine other girls in my line. I wasn’t the one they noticed more than the others.
“Are you still drunk from last night?” she asked.
“What?” I turned toward her. I wasn’t pretending to shake my hips this time.
“We know you left the bar with a Wrangler.”
“What are you talking about, Pres?” Was I the only one who didn’t know who Sam was?
“Keep dancing,” she instructed.
I threw a leg in the air and shook my hair in a long circle. “Keep talking,” I spit back.
“The entire Wrangler team was at the bar last night and you’re the only Goddess who went home with one.”
My mouth almost fell open, but I knew I had to keep moving or she’d stop talking. I grapevined to the right with her and then followed to the left.
“What do you know?”
She shimmied, showing off the tops of her breasts with a jiggle. I followed her move. Times like this, I hated myself.
“That you either hate being a Goddess or you’re a complete football novice.”
I wasn’t going to tell her it was both. “You know I’m still learning the game.”
“That might explain how you don’t know who Sam Hickson is. He was the highest-rated tight end in the league last year. But the Super Bowl team was in the bar with us. The entire team.” She eyed me. “Wes Blakefield, the quarterback?”
I stared at her blankly. Ballerinas didn’t study rosters for football. Last year when they were at the Super Bowl, I was dealing with the catastrophic affects of my accident. I was in rehab seven days a week. Sometimes twice a day. I shuddered thinking about the brace I wore and the torture of daily exercises.
“Why didn’t someone tell me?” I hissed.
“Because Heather and I are the only ones who saw you.” She winked. “And you could use some fun.”
“What’s that supposed to be mean? You think I’m stuffy?” I didn’t know which part was supposed to insult me.
“Your words, not mine, but yes, you’re a little stuffy. You could loosen up and act like you aren’t a prisoner on this team.”
“I don’t act like that.”
But there was truth in what Presley said. I didn’t socialize after practices or games. I didn’t do movie night, or get my nails done with everyone. I used my experience on the squad to keep in shape, use the dance facilities, and learn new choreography. I made it work for me because I had to. There wasn’t another job that could offer everything the Goddesses did.
“You don’t act like it’s a privilege to be a Goddess. You should be proud of what you do, Natalia.”
“You’re right,” I agreed. “You’re completely right. What do I do about last night? I’m not the only one who was hanging out with a Wrangler. I saw you too. Everyone drank with the team. You were with Wranglers. I didn’t doing anything you didn’t do.”
“They bought us drinks. Not the same thing as leaving the bar with them. We left as a squad.”
It was almost time for us to do a group dance. I needed a few more answers from Presley before I got in place.
“But you didn’t tell anyone else?” I asked. “No one knows, right?”
“No, but if they find out, you’re off the team. No one can help you if it gets out. Not even Heather.”
“What?” My stomach turned. I might be sick in front of thousands of screaming fans. I didn’t love being a Goddess, but I needed the money. It was all that I had. It was how I had health insurance. It was how I rebuilt my leg to ballerina strength. I needed this job.
“You committed a cardinal sin,” she explained.
“I didn’t sleep with him,” I lied.
Her eyes widened. “You didn’t?”
“No,” I huffed. “He walked me to my car to get my number. And I didn’t give it to him. I didn’t even know his last name or that he was a Wrangler. This is crazy, Pres. I can’t get kicked off the squad.”
“Oh.” She chewed her bottom lip. “We thought you…”
“That I’d have a one-night stand?” I used my best astonished voice.
“I guess not. Ballerinas don’t do that sort of thing, huh?”
“No, we don’t.”
I walked behind her to start the team dance. I had narrowly saved my reputation. Now I needed to talk to Heather. In case word spread, I wanted to make sure it was the story I wanted them to hear. They needed to know I hadn’t broken the Goddess code. She was the team captain, and regardless of our friendship, she played a management role.
“That kind of sucks,” she whispered.
“Why is that? You said I could lose my job.”
She giggled. “Because Sam Hickson is fucking hot.”
I closed my eyes, inhaling a deep breath. She had no fucking idea how true that was.