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My lips twitch at the mention of the latter. Since that incident with their stupid quarterback, all of them hoot and howl whenever I’m in their vicinity.
They all pay attention to me, except for the asshole himself. Not that I want him to, and I’m totally not thinking about his hard body pressed up against mine at night. Or during the day, when I sneak peeks at him while he’s practicing.
Okay, this isn’t the time for Sebastian fantasies.
Wait. No. They’re not fantasies. Just unwanted thoughts.
“Lie all you want, Luce, but all I see is your heart eyes when you look at Prescott.”
“Stop it.” She blushes a deep shade of pink as she stares at her nails. “He doesn’t even know I exist.”
“Of course, he does, and no, he’s totally not gay like doucheface Peter has been insinuating in locker room talk.”
“I…know that.”
“How do you know that?”
“I just do. But the fact remains, I’m a nobody to him.”
“Then it’s his fucking loss, not yours.”
She stares at me from beneath her lashes and smiles a little. “How do you do it, Nao?”
“Do what?”
“Remain so unaffected, as if the world doesn’t deserve your time.”
“Because it doesn’t. The less you care, the less you’re attached and the freer your mind is.”
“But wouldn’t you end up…I don’t know, alone?”
“Hey, rude! What’s wrong with being alone? It’s better than kissing someone’s ass and sucking someone else’s junk.”
“I hope you fall in love one day.”
“First of all, how dare you? Second of all, I’ll leave all that Hallmarky shit to you.”
“It can be HBO level, not Hallmarky.” She winks and we both snort in laughter before we get out.
I take a sip of my Red Bull. So I know it’s not healthy and all that jazz, but I need the extra energy before every performance. If our own queen bee or the coach found out, they’d probably tell Mom and that would lead to drama that I don’t need in my fragile relationship with her.
I throw the can in the trash before we go through the stadium’s rear exit and toward the squad’s locker room.
It’s a buzz of motions and people backstage. Some of the most dramatic cheerleaders—Brianna included, of course—are singing or murmuring some voodoo shit.
Reina is stretching her long leg over Prescott’s shoulder as he flexes his arm. He’s good-looking with a tall, muscular body. His olive skin and light blue eyes coupled with his black hair and thick brows give him a Middle-Eastern look that made Luce fall head over heels. I think her crush started during high school, but she hid it so well that I only found out about it recently, when I caught her writing in her journal about dreaming to make babies with him.
When I confronted her about it and told her to confess to him, the chicken shit actually gathered her courage and almost did it. But then, during lunch one day, Peter was egging Prescott on about if he was gay, but he said he just wasn’t interested in dating.
Needless to say, my best friend went back to her small bubble and refused to even broach the subject again.
Luce is almost as good at hiding as I am. Almost.
The only difference is that I don’t get caught. And I sure as hell don’t keep a journal.
Unless my letters to Akira can be considered one?
Lucy lowers her head at the scene between Reina and Prescott and goes to stretch.
