Blitzed(6)

“And have you run these plays by Coach Jackson?” asks Cory. “Usually he wants to look them over and approve them before trying them out."

I shake my head. “Nope. But I'm sure he won't mind. He knows all my strategies are good.”

“Cocky bastard,” Cory grumbles.

“He can afford to be cocky when he practically has a scholarship to any school he wants,” says Russ enviously. “Ain't that right, Troy? So which are you going with? Notre Dame? Stanford? Nah, you ain't got the grades for Stanford, but I bet the SEC would hook you up really good—football, easy grades, and Southern girls. Fuck, you wanna stay out here West Side, just go down to Clement, right?”

“I don't have one yet,” I say. "You all know that."

Russ drops his jaw in mock astonishment, giving me a melodramatic gasp. “You mean to tell me the King of Campus doesn't have a scholarship?”

“Cut it out, jackass, before I deck you. I said I don't have one yet, not that I'll never get one. School has only just started back.” Russ is showing his jealousy by bringing up my scholarship, but I'm not going to sweat it. I know that most times, athletes are awarded scholarships in their senior year. Russ needs to stop talking shit and worry about himself. He'd be lucky to get one to a D-II school in North Dakota, let alone a major conference school like I'm in line for.

“What school you hoping for most?” Cory asks curiously.

“I dunno. Maybe State,” I say with a shrug. State has one of the best football programs in the Northwest, and best of all, they get on TV a lot so I'd get a good chance to be noticed by pro scouts, so it’s a natural choice. But honestly, I don't think it matters where I wind up.

“Wherever he goes, they’d better have a field that can contain his ego,” says Russ. "Goddamn Rose Bowl isn't big enough for it from what I've seen."

“Shit, they’d better have a cup size that can contain my dick,” I joke. "Do they make cups in foot-long size? I play soft, not hard like Cory does with his two-incher."

The guys erupt with laughter around me, but I can only keep cutting glances at Whitney.





Chapter 3





Whitney





Crap, this is hard.

I sigh and wipe the sweat off my brow and readjust my cheerleading uniform, grateful for the momentary break in exercises so I can catch my breath. Dani has had me do almost every cheer and dance routine known to man for tryouts so far, and I am aching. She even had me do splits. It wouldn't have been so bad if my practice uniform weren’t extremely uncomfortable. Seriously, my tights are riding my ass crack hard, and every now and then, I have to pull it out and hope no one catches me doing it. What sort of crazy person does yoga in these things anyway? I packed them this morning because I wanted to go for a walk, and they are supposed to wick away sweat.

At least the uniform top is pretty, silver and blue. The school's colors, which are a lot better than some of the other schools around the area. And despite it being extremely tight, I think I look good in it. It compliments my new curves very nicely. The two silver stripes sort of curve out and around my newfound boobs, with the middle dark blue with "Silver Foxes" written across it in script.

The good thing so far is that I've been able to keep up with all the other girls, and Dani has yet to call me out for a single mistake. I've performed most of the cheers flawlessly and am actually having fun. I'd gone three years saying I would never do this sort of thing because it was so cliché, and now I'm finding that, f*ck it all, I’m enjoying being exactly what I said I would never be, one of the in-crowd girls.

I pull at my tights again, cursing under my breath, and then look around to make sure no one is watching. My gaze catches the eyes of Troy Wood, the most popular jock and athlete on campus. He's seated on the bleachers with a group of other jocks who have been staring and hooting like monkeys for the past half-hour . . . and he's staring directly at me.

My heart skips a beat. This guy has never looked at me before. Hell, I don't think he even knew I existed. Yet he's looking at me like I'm a side of beef, and it's actually sexy. I've never seen a guy look at me like that before, and certainly not one as hot as Troy.

My cheeks burn under his intense gaze, and I’m lost in a momentary fantasy.

“Hello?” Dani demands. "Earth to Whitney!"

I tear my eyes away from the hot hunk in the stands, doing my best to refocus. “Huh?”

Dani is scowling at me with her hands on her hips. “I asked you if you were ready?”

“Ready for what?”

Dani nods at the other cheerleaders. “To try the Pyramid.”

I'm horrified. “You can't be serious.”

Dani grins and nods. She’s enjoying this a bit too much. I wonder if Coach picked the right girl to be Captain of the squad this year, because Dani's showing a serious sadist streak. “You wanted to be a cheerleader. Now let's see if you have what it takes.”

She motions at the other cheerleaders, and they quickly take formation. First are the thicker girls, those who are on the team so they can be there for the lifts and stunts like this, then the next level, and then the third, rising up high into the air . . .