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22
Taylor
The Stallions game was going well. They had jumped out to an early lead against the Lions, and it seemed like they weren’t taking their foot off the gas.
More importantly, Brody was having a great game. He made several tough catches in a row, and was all smiles after every play.
And then he jogged in front of the cheerleaders and sent one of those smiles my way. “You got a map, T-Foxy? Because I’m gettin’ lost in those eyes.”
It was the cheesiest line I had ever received in my life. If someone had said that to me at a bar, I probably would have laughed in his face and walked away. But context was everything in life, and the context of this joke was that it came from Brody Carter, the charming tight end who I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since visiting his penthouse earlier in the week.
The result was that I smiled back at him, and blushed, and almost let out a girlish giggle. Something came alive inside of me as Brody jogged away, turning sideways so he could keep grinning at me. It was like the past few months had never happened, and the two of us were right where we had left off after that night of trivia.
That wasn’t just my imagination, I thought. He definitely likes me.
My elation disappeared as Isabella called out, “Brenda? Swap with Taylor.”
I gave a start. “Wait. You’re sending me to the back?”
As soon as I saw Isabella’s face, I realized what had happened. Brody, her ex, had given me a cheesy line not just in front of Isabella, but in front of the entire cheer team.
Oh no.
“Did you hear me?” Isabella demanded. “Or do you need those big ears cleaned out?”
“Isabella, that was just a silly joke,” I said. “There’s nothing going on between—”
“Move your ass, Taylor,” she said, biting off every word. A cruel smile curled onto her lips. “If you’re unhappy with the E-line, you can always sit on the bench. Or go home.”
I wanted to argue more, but I could tell it wouldn’t do any good. Not in front of the entire squad. I went to the back line and took Brenda’s spot, and numbly began the next cheer routine.
I guess that’s how it’s going to be.
The Stallions dominated the Lions for most of the game. Every part of the team was firing on all cylinders: the offense, the defense, and even the special teams that handled punts and kick-offs. They looked like a team that was bound for the Super Bowl.
With one exception: Brody Carter.
The tight end may have started the game strong, but after the quip he made to me, he immediately began dropping passes again. Even when he didn’t have the ball thrown to him, he looked totally lost after every play, like he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be doing. And even though the Stallions were winning by twenty points, frustrations started boiling over.
“We need you to catch those,” Dallas barked at him after one failed drive. “If I can’t rely on you for a dump pass on third down…”
“I know, I know,” Brody replied. “Just keep feeding me and I’ll make the plays.”
I was having just as bad of a day as Brody. Being in the back row of cheerleaders, with some of the girls who could barely keep up with the rest, was bad enough. But in between routines, Isabella decided to make me her personal punching bag.
“You call that rhythm, Taylor?” she said loudly after one cheer. “I guess they don’t teach that over at the university.”
Some of the other cheerleaders laughed because they wanted to stay on Isabella’s good side. Others laughed with more genuine cruelty. I wanted to argue with her, to tell her that I’m a better dancer than she is even though this is just my side-gig, but I somehow found enough willpower to bite my tongue.
It’s not fair to punish me, I thought while putting on a fake smile. I didn’t do anything. Brody is the one who talked to me. I just stood there.
Part of me hoped Isabella would get bored and eventually leave me alone, but deep down I knew that wasn’t true. She was going to be a problem going forward.
Unless I found a way to fix it.
Despite Brody’s problems on the field, the Stallions cruised to a 39 - 24 victory over the Lions. They had a perfect 4 - 0 record, which put them at the top of the division standings—tied with their rivals, the Denver Broncos.
After the game, in the cheerleader locker room, the other girls kept a wide berth around me. It was like I was radioactive. I couldn’t blame them. If they were seen being friendly to me, then Isabella would punish them too.
