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Sydney tapped her screen. “You can just call him Brayden. Everyone knows who he is.”
“I thought it was all one word. Braydenbronson.”
Megan snickered. Sydney turned to the mirror and wiped away a fleck of mascara. “You’ve been weird lately.”
No, we’ve been weird.
“Syd, you shouldn’t distract Brayden before the game!” Nikki, the team captain, exclaimed.
Without warning, Sydney tossed me her phone. “Write something.”
“We’re about to go on the court and you want me to ghost-sext Brayden Bronson?”
“Come on.” She pouted. “We always used to do each other’s texts to boys, before you got together with the ice king.”
I scrolled through the conversation. It was completely unoriginal.I’ll eat you out while you suck me off. You’re so hot, baby. Do me all night long.
I know you can fuck my body, Brayden Bronson,I texted.But can you fuck my mind?
“You’re on your own now.” I tossed the phone back to her and popped another cough drop. The air burned in the dressing room. On the court, the pep band was playing.
“Christina!” Sydney wailed. “All I got was a bunch of question marks. ‘Fuck my mind?’ What does that even mean?”
“Okay, girls!” Nikki clapped her hands. “Everyone line up!”
We jogged onto the court. The excitement hit me in a wave. It swept over me as we locked into a tight knot, pumping up the crowd, and scattered to break into our first routine. Our pom-poms flew. The band boomed. The crowd roared and whistled.
I loved it. I loved every minute. It was different from the fall, from freshman and sophomore year, from the fourteen years I’d spent cheering, starting when I could do a handstand.
I had nothing to prove. I wasn’t aiming for fame. I wasn’t trying to be Alexis.
I was having fun and soaking up every fucking taste of it.
As we finished the routine and the men’s basketball team jogged back onto the court, we retreated to the sidelines to clap and cheer. My headache was coming back. My voice would probably be gone by the end of the game. I didn’t care.
The first half flew by. Sydney’s eyes were glued to Brayden Bronson, and she cheered extra loud whenever he sank a basket. Half the girls on the squad were checking him out. He was a beautiful man. Sweat gleamed on his chest, polishing his skin. His smile lit up his face. He leapt across the court like the world was his oyster and slammed the ball through the hoop like it was his bitch.
And I wondered what Patrick was up to.
We ran back into formation for the halftime show, and Megan and I got into position to hoist Sydney up. She jumped into our hands and straightened as we lifted her above our heads, arching one leg behind her. The bases next to us lifted their flyer. She and Sydney cupped their hands to support a third girl who vaulted up.
My head began to throb, too insistently to ignore. I swayed. As I tried to hold my stance, my arms wobbled. I tightened my grip on Sydney’s ankle and locked my knees. Megan caught my eye and shook her head slightly.Don’t lock your knees,she was saying. But I couldn’t risk compromising Sydney’s balance.
The room dimmed. Bright spots swam in my vision. The court tilted front of me.
No. Oh no. Get a grip, Christina…Christina…
“Christina?” Megan hissed in my ear.
“I’m going to faint.”
“No.” Her eyes got big, her mouth a round O. Bracing her body against mine, she stepped on my foot like it would hold me in place.
“Help me.” Words I’d never said before my visits to Patrick’s room.
“Guys!” she shouted, jerking her chin towards the top of the pyramid. “Get down!”
Thank God the top girl was already jumping off. But it wasn’t happening fast enough. I swayed again. My knees buckled and Sydney’s weight tipped above me.
