He smirked and let his eyes roam over my body. “You can have as long as you want.”
“I thought you had a girlfriend?” I smiled, letting my dimples show.
“Not if you’re interested.” He leaned closer.
He was so close, I could smell the mint of his gum. “Maybe someday,” I winked. “I need a favor, and since I saved your little girlfriend this morning, you owe me.”
Aaron grinned, “I heard about that. What can I do for you?”
That’s why I liked him. There was no attraction on my part, but a guy like him would never believe that. So, I made sure to throw in a few dimples here and a few winks there. Also, he understood and accepted the status quo.
“I need you to talk to your dad about letting Ethan back on the team.”
“Shit, Taryn.” He ran a hand through his hair. “That’s not going to be easy. The dumbass called him out in front of the entire team. My old man doesn’t take things like that lightly.”
“I know. That’s why he’s going to apologize in front of everyone at practice today.” I narrowed my eyes. “I also want you to remind him that Ethan brings in numbers. Wins bring funding. Funding keeps the boosters happy.”
“I’ll do everything I can. He knows we need Ethan to get into the playoffs, so that works in his favor.” Aaron scratched his arm, obviously nervous. “Hopefully, that’s enough.”
“Make it enough.” I stared him in the eye. “Besides helping Jenna, there are other things I’ve done for you. Don’t forget it.”
He nodded, “I’ll get it done. He’ll be practicing today.”
I turned and headed into the locker room to change for cheerleading practice. There was nothing else to say. He’d get it done or suffer the consequences.
Cheer practice smelled like sweat, hairspray, and the sharp sting of disinfectants the custodians sprayed too late in the day.
Coach Daniels paced the mat with a clipboard tucked under her arm, eyes sharp, voice clipped. She didn’t need to yell. The girls watched her hands as if they held the secrets of the universe.
I stretched without being told.
Madison was already in position. Brooke adjusted her stance and then corrected the girl standing next to her. Lila watched me, waiting.
Assets.
“Warm-up,” Coach yelled.
Jumping jacks snapped in unison, sneakers striking the mat in perfect rhythm. Sweat broke out on my brow—Texas heat, stale air, and bodies packed too closely together. My muscles protested the movements, sore from the morning workout my father had decided I “needed.”
“Five. Six. Seven. Eight.”
We moved.
“Sharper,” Coach barked.
I corrected Madison’s landing without looking at her, shifting my weight just enough that she mirrored it automatically. Brooke missed a count and flinched, eyes darting to me before Coach could react.
I didn’t look at her.
Thatwas the correction.
“Again,” Coach said.
We ran the routine twice more. Then a third.
By the fourth pass, their breathing became ragged, and their legs began shaking. A sophomore on the end faltered, her knees dipping too low on the jump.
The coach’s gaze flicked to me.
