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“No need, Kelly. I’ve got tonight’s tab.” He brings his chair back to four legs and leans on the table closer to me, essentially boxing Kelly out. I sit taller at his attention.
Different indeed.
“Summer, I’m glad you ask.” He’s got a smirk as his eyes dance back and forth between her and I. His little eye mischief earns him a smack from Dash, and we all laugh at his nonsense. “Anyway,” he says as he rubs the back of his head. “You all know my sister was a professional cheerleader, so I can’t help but be drawn to your practices.”
“And the beautiful girls.”
“Yes, that helps,” he snickers. “But it’s not the girls I’m looking at. It’s the women.” He drops his voice. “The coaches.”
That earns another smack.
“Damn, Dash! Let me speak!” He shakes his head and Dash pops a smile. It’s probably the first time I’ve seen it happen, other than when he looks at Summer. “I love the two-minute thirty. Right, ladies? You know what I’m talking about.”
A slow smile spreads across my face. This guy just gets better each day.
Noel watches us. “What’s the two-minute thirty?”
Mark nods to me and I defer to him. “No, go ahead, Cheermaster, tell them. I’d like to hear how you explain it.”
He smiles large at me and, never removing his eyes from mine; he begins. “The two-minute thirty is all you get. It’s what feels like the longest span of time ever yet is over before you know it. It’s your one and only moment to leave it on the mat. To impress the judges, to hit every dance move on point, to nail every stunt, to make your coach proud, and be there for your team. It’s your one shot to perform your best, and to exude confidence while doing so, even when you don’t feel it. It’s a one-time block of time that is practiced for months, years even and if you don’t nail it, you may not get a second chance. It’s two minutes and thirty seconds of the hardest work you’ve ever prepared for. And when it’s over, no matter what happens, you end it with a smile. It’s all about the smile.”
I feel my eyes stinging as I blink back tears.He gets it. Mark gets it. I’ve dated men who stereotyped cheerleaders, and it made me sick. They thought we were dumb, an easy lay. They didn't understand how grueling practices were. Or how you were bruised and bloodied yet still got up again. They didn’t get that I couldn’t quit until it was perfect. That we did things that pushed our bodies beyond our limits, but it excited us to try each time. Wanted to try, had to try. I was born to be a cheerleader. To lead the pack, lead the team. And then I was born to coach the next generation of girls, let them know they weren’t just a pretty face. They could do whatever they wanted. Be whatever they wanted. They just needed to believe they could.
“And I also just like hearing them yell ‘stay tight!’”
Everyone at the table doubles over in laughter, and I bump into him with my shoulder. He catches me with his large arm draped around me and pulls me in close. “No lines, Tink. I mean it all. What you do is amazing.”
I’m falling for this man fast, and I fear this may be my one stunt that finally hits the ground.
MACKENZIE
Me:
It’s raining. I guess our date is off tonight.
Mark:
No fucking way. All the rain means is when I kiss you, I’ll get you twice as wet ??
This man is bewildering. He’s such a contradiction. Yes, he’s a flirt. Shamelessly so. But since we’ve been spending time together, he’s only had eyes for me. And I’ve noticed it. It makes me feel good that I took the chance. I could have missed out on something because I let gossip stop me.
Or because I let my father stop me.
I know I have to come clean, with everyone. But I’m afraid. And now I’m at fault because I’m hiding us. And he’s being really sweet and content and going slow with me as far as being seen in public. I know that’s not how he operates. He could care less what people think, but unfortunately, I do.
I have to worry, because it’s not just my reputation at stake. Knowing the stink my father caused about Mark, makes Mark a target. And if the daughter of the Dean is now dating said target, well, I know dad would not be happy how that looks. Where do you think my concern for people’s opinions came from?
Dad worked his way up to become the top dog at a school. It’s almost like being a public official. It’s prestigious and he likes that. I won’t take anything away from the man, he worked hard and earned it. But as kids, we were held to a different standard that we just never fell into. My brothers were wild growing up and well into their twenties before settling down. And then his only daughter was a cheerleader, and to him? That wasn’t aiming high enough. I was an embarrassment so to speak. But I didn’t care, I loved it and wanted to coach as soon as I knew I was done being the actual cheerleader. It’s in my blood.
Me:
Oh, I heard you’re a player. Nice to meet you, I’m the coach.
Mark:
Well played, Tink. But guess what I’m wearing?
His text goes off and I hearknock knocksimultaneously. I answer the door and see Mark standing in jeans and a t-shirt, just about soaked through from the rain.
