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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.
Thirteen
Sam
The locker room was insane. We had bulldozed the Warriors by twenty-one points. Our defense had let them add a few touchdowns on the board, but that shit happens.
