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I freeze. I must’ve lost my last screws somewhere this week, because instead of throwing the foam roller away, I wait to see if she can even take me down. Not that I’ll make it easy for her. I plant my feet wide and brace for impact.
It comes. Just not quite as I was expecting. Rather than slamming her shoulder into my solar plexus, she jumps. I lift the roller as high as I can.
The way her whole face scrunches up is about to make me laugh.
“Son of a—” At the last second, she decides not to insult my mom, and I’m about to tease her. But then she takes a dump on predictability.
Because with one more jump, she cinches her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. Her weight tips me forward. Just before she falls, I react to catch her—by her butt.
Her eyes find mine. The degree of anger in hers hasn’t changed, but I remove my hand just in case. Tinker Bell grabs on to me tighter just as she reaches up. I’ve turned into a statue that can only feel the squeeze of her thighs around me, her stomach against my face. I feel a weight ease off my hand and know she has the roller, but I don’t care. I can’t think. I don’t even know my damn name anymore.
With a grunt, she eases her legs off me but doesn’t let go of my neck until her feet are on the floor. Which means I’m bent over to her eye level when she lets go.
There’s a smirk on her face, and it snaps me out of the trance.
I grit my teeth. “You play dirty.”
“All’s fair in love and war.” She shrugs. Her T-shirt is still bunched up around her waist where it pressed against my face.
“Don’t make me play dirty, Tinker Bell.” Since she’s close enough, I lean down to whisper so only she can hear. “I promise you won’t be able to take it.”
She shoves me out of the way and walks out with her prize. And my dignity. The rest of her team eventually follows, and I’m not the only Bolt who stays pissed off after that.
CHAPTER 4
LUZ
“Dude, you just climbed Max Cassiano like a tree. What did it feel like?” JT Brewer asks. Her name is actually Justine, but one of the other girls almost died the first day when she called her Justine. I liked her spunk, so we’ve stuck ever since.
She nudges my side with her elbow, wagging her eyebrows.
The answer is hard. Not that I could possibly say that aloud and live to tell the tale.
But everything from his waist to the shoulder I used to prop myself up was solid as a rock. And just as strong. And I wasn’t as upset as I should’ve been when his hand grabbed my butt so I wouldn’t fall. Any other guy would’ve taken advantage of accidentally finding his whole hand splayed over my butt cheek, but he didn’t. He pulled it away immediately, and that’s what upset me. I liked it there.
That wasn’t the most offensive part of the whole encounter, though. It was the fact that he has tiny freckles across the bridge of his nose. How dare?—
I bang the foam roller against my head, trying to chase away these thoughts. He’s the enemy. I can’t fraternize with a Bolt if I plan to make room for myself among the Strikes.
So, to answer JT’s question, I shrug. “It just sort of happened, and it was too quick. I didn’t pay attention.”
“Yeah, right. And I’m Wayne Gretzky reincarnated.”
I fight off a smile by biting my lips. “You do know he’s still alive, right?”
“My point exactly.” JT rolls her eyes.
I drop the roller on the floor of the locker room. Since I won the trophy from an opponent, I get first dibs. But just a few minutes of stretching my back with it won’t be enough to ease the pain. My best friend ibuprofen is waiting for me after this. I wish the Bolts hadn’t been such knuckleheads, making us fight for these things. If I could’ve started winding down earlier, then my muscles wouldn’t be seized so tight at this point.
My groan echoes around the place as I work a few exercises with the roller. It catches a few stares, but I don’t have a single neuron to spare on what people think when my brain is being bombarded by both pain and relief. Chronic pain is no joke.
“Is that from the roller or from Cassiano?” JT chuckles.
“He’s all yours if you’re so interested.” My voice comes out like a croak. I’m slow as a turtle as I disengage the foam cylinder from under my body and throw it over to her. All I can do after that is lie flat like a starfish.
“Hmm, if he wasn’t a Bolt, I’d consider it,” JT says with a grin. Her myriad ear piercings glint under the stark white lights, easily visible because the sides of her head are shaved down.
I shake my head slightly. “Good, you’re too cool for a clown like him.”
