Rushed(130)

I gag. I can't help it. “Okay. Stop. Now.”

Dani lets out a laugh. “It's so frickin’ easy to gross you out.”

“Which is why you should show some restraint and not do it.”

Dani grins. “Never.” She starts to finger her blond locks then stops. “So I've been thinking, Whit.”

Oh boy. It was never good when Dani thought about anything. Did I mention she'd make a good young Harley Quinn? Brilliant and crazy—that's Dani Vaughn.

“About?” I ask wearily.

“I got an idea while I was in Italy.”

Even worse.

“Huh?”

“You know how you made that offhand comment about wanting to join the cheerleading squad last semester?”

“Uh . . . yeah?” I remember. I said it mainly because I'd been so hard up for a date that I'd been desperate to try anything, including flipping around in a short skirt in order to catch some attention from the type of guys I like. I can't help it. While their attitudes and behavior are disgusting, the image of a strong jock sends tingles through my skin.

“And have you been practicing the moves I showed you, like you promised?”

I nod. I don't say it, but I suspect that all those tumbling moves had been part of the reason my new weight has gone on in a good way and not a bad one. “I didn't have much else to do besides eat and look up the colleges I want to apply to.”

Dani looks pleased and says, “Well, I wanted to officially invite you to try out.”

I drop my jaw. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, why not? You're my best friend and this is our last school year together. Why not experience something you haven't done before and make the most of it?”

It's hard to close my mouth. I can't believe Dani is asking me to join the cheerleading squad since she always calls me clumsy as hell—and with good reason. I've spent years being all errant elbows and hip bones, and now she's asking me to do cheerleading?

“When are tryouts?” I finally manage. Dani can't be denied.

“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 *. 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 f*cking 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 f*cking phone. I don't have the money to replace it if I crack the screen.

Oh my f*cking God.