Cheering For The Enemy

By eight fifteen on the first morning of senior year, I had already threatened to replace one of my flyers.

In my defense, she deserved it.

“Again,” I called.

A groan moved through the squad.

I put my hands on my hips. “You can hate me later. Right now, Maya is landing two feet left of where she’s supposed to, Chloe is compensating for it, and if somebody drops her during Friday’s game, I’m pretending I don’t know any of you.”

Maya stared at me. “You’re such a bitch.”

“Captain,” I corrected.

That got a few laughs.

Beside me, Chloe shook her head as the girls reset. “You know most captains try to motivate their team.”

“I am motivating them.”

“You threatened to disown them.”

“And look how focused they are.”

The music started again.

This time the stunt went clean. Maya hit the top without wobbling, the back line stayed on count, and nobody nearly cracked their skull open on the turf.

I clapped once. “There. Fear works. We’re done.”

Relief broke across the squad immediately.

Then Chloe stopped smiling.

She was looking past me toward the stadium entrance.

Three black buses were turning into the parking lot.

Westbridge.

The music died.

Around the field, our football players stopped throwing. Students heading toward the main building slowed down, and suddenly everyone seemed very interested in watching forty-three Westbridge seniors invade our campus.

Chloe came up beside me. “They’re early.”

“Of course they are.”

The first bus rolled through the gate with WESTBRIDGE ACADEMY painted across the side in silver.

Blackwood and Westbridge had hated each other for decades. Football, cheer, academics, swimming, whatever. If our schools ever competed over canned-food donations, somebody would probably leave with a concussion.

And now, because half of Westbridge had apparently developed a mold problem severe enough to shut down part of the school, forty-three of their seniors were spending the semester here.

Forty-three too many.

The buses stopped.

Westbridge students started climbing out in black blazers and red ties, looking around our campus like they’d been invited somewhere instead of dumped here because their own building was trying to poison them.

Then the football players appeared.

Chloe made a quiet sound beside me.

“What?”

She smiled. “Nothing.”

I followed her eyes.

Mason Cole stepped off the final bus with a duffel bag over one shoulder.

Everybody knew Mason.

Westbridge quarterback. Team captain. Regional MVP. Suspended sophomore year for breaking a Saint James player’s nose in the locker room.

According to Westbridge, the guy deserved it.

According to practically every girl who had ever watched Mason play, the suspension had somehow made him hotter.

Unfortunately, they weren’t completely wrong.

He was tall, dark-haired, and carried himself like somebody had forgotten to explain that walking onto Blackwood property should make him at least slightly uncomfortable.

His eyes swept across the field.

Our football team.

The cheer squad.

Then me.

He stared.

I stared back.

His mouth curved into the faintest smirk.

I immediately wanted to wipe it off his face.

Chloe noticed.

“No.”

I kept my eyes on him. “No what?”

“Whatever that face means.”

“My face doesn’t mean anything.”

“Your face just declared war.”

Mason said something to one of his teammates, then started toward the field.

Our football players noticed.

So did Evan.

My boyfriend stepped away from the sideline and started toward him with three of our guys following.

Chloe looked between them. “This is going to be a disaster.”

I held out my water bottle.

She took it automatically. “Where are you going?”

“To introduce myself.”

She laughed. “You don’t introduce yourself to people.”

“No. Usually they already know who I am.”

“Liv.”

I started across the field.

“What?”

“You’re going over there because he looked at you.”

I glanced back at her. “I’m going over there because he’s walking onto my field like he owns it.”

“Your field?”

I smiled.

“Exactly.”

By the time I reached them, Evan and Mason had stopped several feet apart.

Their teammates gathered behind them.

Subtle as ever.

Evan looked Mason over. “You get lost?”

One of the Westbridge players laughed.

Mason barely reacted. “Pretty sure your principal invited us.”

“Temporary.”

“Thank God.”

Evan’s expression hardened.

Mason looked around the stadium. “Don’t get me wrong. Cute place. Little desperate with all the banners, though.”

I stepped forward.

“Those banners are what happens when you win things.”

His eyes shifted to me immediately.

There it was again.

That stupid smirk.

“Cheerleading counts now?”

I folded my arms. “More than losing does.”

A couple of Blackwood players laughed.

Mason’s expression changed just enough to tell me I’d landed it.

Good.

He looked at my uniform. “You must be Olivia.”

“You must be disappointing in person.”

Someone behind him made a strangled sound.

Mason stared at me for a second.

Then he smiled.

Not nicely.

“I’ve heard you’re charming.”

“I’ve heard you get punched less than you deserve.”

“Usually because people miss.”

“I wouldn’t.”

His eyebrows rose.

Evan stepped beside me and put a hand at my waist. “Liv.”

I ignored him.

Mason didn’t.

His gaze dropped to Evan’s hand, then slowly moved back to his face.

“So that’s still happening.”

Evan’s jaw tightened. “Got a problem?”

Mason shrugged. “Not my standards.”

I turned toward him. “Careful.”

He looked innocent. “What?”

“You’ve been here twenty minutes. You don’t know enough about me to have standards.”

“I know you’re dating Mercer.”

“And?”

Mason looked at Evan.

Then back at me.

“And I’m starting to think the stories about Blackwood’s academic standards were exaggerated.”

Carter, the guy beside him, burst out laughing.

I smiled sweetly.

“You know, I was wondering why Westbridge’s quarterback needed to transfer here. Now I’m realizing remedial classes probably played a role.”

Mason’s smile disappeared.

For maybe half a second.

Then it came back.

I liked that.

Which was irritating.

Evan stepped forward. “You done?”

Mason looked at him like he’d only just remembered he was there. “Were we talking?”

Evan’s hand left my waist.

I caught his arm before he could do something stupid.

“Don’t.”

“He’s asking for it.”

Mason gave him a bored look. “You’re going to hit me because your girlfriend has a mouth?”

I let go of Evan.

“Oh, I don’t need him for that.”

Mason’s eyes came back to mine.

For the first time since he’d stepped onto the field, neither of us said anything.

There was something in the way he looked at me that made my stomach tighten.

Not attraction.

Absolutely not.

I just really wanted to slap him.

Probably.

The warning bell rang from the main building.

Students around us finally started moving.

Evan leaned toward me. “Come on.”

Mason glanced at him.

Something about that look bothered me.

It was dismissive.

Like Evan was temporary.

Like Mason had already decided something.

I frowned.

Evan kissed my temple and started toward the school with the team.

“See you inside.”

“I’ll be there.”

Chloe passed me a second later, handing back my water bottle.

“You’re insane.”

“He started it.”

“He literally got off a bus.”

“He smirked.”

“Oh, unforgivable.”

“Exactly.”

She laughed and headed toward the building.

I turned.

Mason was still standing there.

“What?”

He shifted his bag higher on his shoulder. “Nothing.”

“You’re staring.”

“So were you.”

“I was trying to figure out why everybody talks about you like you’re impressive.”

“And?”

“Still working on it.”

He smiled.

God, I hated that smile.

I started toward the school.

He fell into step beside me.

I looked over. “There are several hundred feet of field available.”

“I’m comfortable here.”

“I’m not.”

“That sounds like a you problem.”

“You’re incredibly irritating.”

“I’ve known you twenty minutes and you’re already obsessed with me.”

I stopped walking.

He made it another step before turning around.

I stared at him.

Then laughed once.

“You’re confused.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. See, obsession would imply I want you around.”

Mason stepped closer.

Not enough to touch me.

Enough to be annoying.

“Give it time.”

I smiled.

“You’re going to have a very long semester, Cole.”

His gaze held mine.

Something warm and infuriating passed through my stomach again.

Then he glanced toward the doors Evan had disappeared through.

“Maybe.”

His attention returned to me.

“But I don’t think I’m the one who should be worried.”

He walked away before I could ask what the hell that meant.

I watched him go.

Only because I was trying to decide whether throwing my water bottle at the back of his head would get me suspended.

Probably.

Mason Cole had been at Blackwood for less than twenty minutes, and I already couldn’t stand him.

The feeling, judging by the way he’d looked at me, was mutual.

Good.

At least we agreed on something.