“Today after school, between the football field and the band practice area. And don't you dare think about saying no.”
I pause for a moment, thinking it over. Besides going out there and doing something clumsy and embarrassing Dani in front of the squad, I can’t think of one good reason not to go and at least give it a try.
What do I have to lose? I think to myself. The worst that can happen is I do awfully and they reject me.
Usually, rejection terrifies me, but all the positive reaction I've gotten this morning has me feeling cheery and willing to try anything. I'd been practicing the moves Dani had taught me all summer, so I wouldn't exactly be going in as a total noob. Heck, I might even go out there and show up Dani once or twice, and I think she’s an awesome cheerleader.
“Don't make me have to drag your new bubble butt ass out on the field,” jokes Dani, mistaking my silence as resistance. "And if you say you don't have any clothes to wear, I will stuff you in one of those nasty ass PE uniforms Coach Roberts lends out to the kids who forget to bring theirs from home. Don't worry about the t-shirt. You can use a team one, but you’d better have some exercise clothes."
I chuckle and reply, “I'll drag it out there myself, thank you very much. And I've got something to wear. I think.”
Chapter 2
Troy
“Gawd . . . damn! Who is that?” exclaims Russ Bowden, pushing his rust colored hair out of his eyes and doing a double take. "Did we get a new transfer student from the Playboy Mansion or something?"
I was sitting in the bleachers texting on my cell while my friends and teammates drooled over Silver Lake's cheerleading squad practice. It was a customary tradition for the guys to come sit around whenever there were new tryouts and bet money on which cheerleader would be having sex with them before the season was out.
Usually, I'd partake in the betting right along with them. In my junior year, I'd gotten a cool two hundred dollars from my haul, but I'm just not in the mood today. I'd gotten into a nasty argument with my drunk of a father before I left home, and I was ready to smash faces . . . not pussy. Besides, I'm a senior now. Chasing freshman and sophomore ass is supposed to be beneath me, and I know all the upper-class girls. At least I think I do.
“That's Whitney Nelson,” Cory, who is sitting to my right, says. Cory's the biggest player on the team, and I don't mean size-wise. The man has a list of conquests that would make Leo DiCaprio jealous, although personally, I thought Cory's focus on quantity took off points due to lack of quality. But to give the man credit, he has a great eye for the female figure.
Russ makes a face, his eyes going wide as saucers. “That's Whitney Nelson? Pancake Nelson? Bullshit.”
Cory nods. “Yup.”
“No fucking way!”
“Crazy, ain't it? She's a knockout now,” Cory added.
Russ snorts, shaking his head. “Knockout is an understatement. That bitch stacked.”
I look up from texting on my cell to see what all the fuss is about. My heart skips a beat and my mouth goes dry when I see her. I remind myself not to drop my fucking phone. I don't have the money to replace it if I crack the screen.
Oh my fucking God.
A girl with long, wavy auburn hair, a heart-shaped face and a voluptuous body is doing tryout exercises with the cheerleading squad. Her whole body moves with a sensuality that I've yet to see. I'm instantly turned on by the sight. Seriously, she's going to make me pop wood in front of all my friends. It's crazy. I've seen a lot of hot girls, but this one takes the crown.
To say she’s beautiful is like saying the sky is blue. You don't argue that shit. You just accept it.
What I can't understand, though, is why I haven't ever seen her before? The other guys are all talking like they know who this girl is, but I'm racking my brains, and I'm drawing a blank.
“Ten bucks says I'll have her sucking my dick by the end of tonight,” boasts Cory.
Russ lets out a rowdy laugh. “Ten bucks? Fuck, dude, a hundred says she'll be riding me after practice!” Russ does a little dance in his seat, moving his arms all around like he's riding a pony. “Gangnam Style!”
All my teammates howl with laughter, but I'm not amused, and a dark, violent anger surges through my chest, surprising me.
“Shut the fuck up!” I seethe, barely holding back from it becoming a bellow. The words leave my lips before I can stop them. I'm not sure what's gotten into me. I never cared before who they laid claim to. It's all just a game, anyway. But right now, I'm about three seconds from taking the football team's starting tailback and safety and seeing if I can throw them out of the stands off the back side. “None of you dickwads are getting shit!”