Two
Reece
Stacy Dunn is looking as hot as ever.
Short. Tight body. Bleach blonde hair. Summer tan. Bright, blue eyes.
Cold. Stubborn. Equivocal. Prepped and primed to claw my eyes out as I poke fun at her for the entirety of our last year cheering together.
It’s nothing personal, no reason behind my qualms with Stacy.
I just show up with bells on and my natural optimism tends to piss her off.
Instead of being offended or kissing her ass like Torres does, I embrace the catty camaraderie between us and lean into the bit of being a thorn in her side.
It’s become something I honestly enjoy since I just have to be myself to rile her up.
If I’m being completely honest, Stacy’s fucking hot when she’s pissed at me; which is often.
Wing Haven cheer wasn’t always the plan.
I originally wanted to go out of state but UOWH offered me a cheerleading scholarship that I couldn’t turn down.
Wing Haven became my home quick enough, thanks to my friends, roommates, and welcoming squad.
It became even more my home when I met Tashia my first year, my one and only serious girlfriend.
She made me feel even more settled, signifying that I’d made the right decision.
That all went down the shitter pretty expeditiously after she broke up with me and started dating my older brother last year but that’s neither here nor there.
It’s kind of here and there.
Point is, ever since we were eighteen year old, baby-faced freshmen, I’ve been pissing off Stacy Dunn in some form or fashion and this year doesn’t feel like the year to stop.
It’s our last year as Sharks. If anything, this year is a perfect excuse to go even harder when it comes to my off-beat relationship with my frenemy.
“What are you so happy about?” my best friend on the squad, Drew Harding, says by way of greeting as he approaches me.
Drew was one of my roommates in the dorms our first year.
After we moved in, I essentially cornered him and forced him to be best friends with me and my high school buddy Miles, my current roommate who I’ve known since the uncomfortable days of puberty.
Drew is a bit quieter than me and I think my forwardness intimidated him, but nonetheless, here we are four years later.
Forcing his acquaintanceship was the same plan I had in regard to making Stacy Dunn my friend, but that one has yet to pan out.
I grin as I stare across the gym, my sights still set on Stacy as Drew reaches my side. “What isn’t there to be happy about? Cheer conditioning is back. I’m back with my best friends. We’re about to start our senior year.” I throw an arm around his broad shoulder.
He grunts in response. “You’re always extra chipper after you get laid. ”
“I didn’t get laid,” I lie.
My no-strings-attached situation is still in my bed as we speak, but that’s not something Drew needs to know. It’s not my fault that being a student athlete makes a guy irresistible, okay? I’ve tried to tone it down, trust me. No matter what I do, though, I walk into a room and panties drop.
Drew lolls his head to the side to look at me, his amber eyes narrowing. “Our apartments are next to each other. I share a bedroom wall with you,” he deadpans.
Shit. Those thin walls of our student apartments are damning evidence.
“Well, my attitude has nothing to do with sex,” I tell him. And it’s true. I’m genuinely excited to get back into this season and that’s making me smile more than Chelsea from Cleveland ever could.
Even if she is an incredibly flexible gal.
“It’s seven in the morning. You’re always so damn happy.”
“I am,” I concede as my mind flashes to Lance.
My oldest brother is the reason I have such a positive outlook on life and every time someone brings up my larger-than-life demeanor, I feel a stab of sadness and nostalgia.
It’s a fleeting feeling that only lasts for a few seconds but it demands to be felt nonetheless.
I’d never share that pain with anyone, though. Anyone besides the pages of my journal that I confide in and the counselor I meet with once a month. To everyone else, I’m sunshine. That’s the way I’ve always been.
Drew scrubs his hands down the mocha skin of his face. “Well, Dunn and Propst look like they’re out for blood this year so be ready.”
A shit-eating grin spreads across my face as I watch the short blonde and the even shorter brunette chit chat intently across the practice mats. “If anyone needs to get laid, it’s those two.” I nod towards the women.
Drew huffs out a laugh. “You’ve got that right.”
Almost as if they can hear our conversation, the two women turn to us. “Taylor, Harding,” Propst barks with her hands cupped around her mouth. “Care to join your team and circle up? We’ve got some things to discuss.”
I salute her. “Yes, ma’am.”
She just rolls her eyes as Drew and I make our way to the center of the mat where the rest of our team is sitting.
I know this little pow-wow is probably about me and the fact that my stunting partner transferred schools to be closer to a sick family member.
There’s a fresh face on the mat that wasn’t at tryouts and I venture to say she’s probably the girl who will be taking Kennedy’s place.
She’s cute. Really cute with a short, caramel bob and kind green eyes. She’s got a tiny, athletic build that comes with the territory of being a collegiate flyer, accentuated by a tight olive green workout set.
“Taylor,” Stacy snaps as she takes a seat at the edge of the circle. “Maybe stop ogling our new flyer? We’ve got important stuff to talk about.”
I smirk at her. “Jealous, baby?”
Her jaw clenches, her eyes narrowing into slits. “Pay. Attention.”
“I’ve missed you too, Stace.”
Stacy rolls her eyes so hard, they nearly fall out of her head. I decide it’s in my testicles’ best interest to not push her buttons anymore and turn to face Propst and Wilkinson.
“Hope you all had a relaxing few weeks. You all know Kennedy left for Ohio State,” Propst begins without a preamble.
“We’ve got the wonderful Mackenzie here joining us from Florida.
” She gestures to the pretty girl I was just undressing with my eyes.
“But that means tweaks need to happen. Coach Wilkinson and I looked at our team objectively and decided it’s in the best interest of our squad to move around partners instead of putting Mackenzie with Reece. ”
Wait, what?
I raise my hand. “Coach, is this because of Stacy’s ogling comment?”
“Stop talking, Taylor,” Coach Propst says by way of answer.
“It was a difficult decision because we hate breaking up pairs that are comfortable together. At the end of the day, though, we all have to make sacrifices. Going forward this year, Torres will be with Ms. Mackenzie and Dunn will be with Taylor.”
Wait. What?
Propst continues to give the rundown for our first day of conditioning, but it all sounds garbled in my ears.
Even as we get up to begin our mile run warm-up, I’m confused.
My brain isn’t computing what was just said because all I can think about is how much time I’m about to spend with Stacy Dunn this year.
As the thoughts process a little further when we move on to our ab workout, I feel a smile stretch across my face.
I’ve always wanted to force Stacy to love me and now is my chance.
Spending excess time with me is a sure way to fall victim to my charm and at this point, Stacy’s friendship is an unattainable goal that I’ve been chasing for four years.
We move on from abs to some weights before throwing a couple of practice stunts to get back into the swing of things.
Stunting with Stacy for the first time goes as to be expected.
We don’t know the rhythm of each other’s bodies yet so we fumble the first couple. It’s a very logical sequence of events.
Or at least, in my eyes. The glare I get from Stacy when I drop her from a stunt could chill Satan to the core.
“ What are you doing?” she bites, whipping around to face me.
I don’t miss the way her sweet peach scent hits me in the face from the movement of her hair. My attraction to Stacy has never made total sense considering she can’t stand me, but I manage to go weak in the knees anytime I smell peaches because of her.
“Stunting.” I smirk.
She scoffs. “If that’s what you want to call it.”
I cock my head to the side before taking Stacy by the wrist and toting her towards the exit.
She grumbles but doesn’t protest as we bust out through the double doors and into the sun.
There are no shade trees or relief from the summer weather by our practice gym and the Ohio July heat is blistering, even at eight in the morning.
“Why do you hate me so much?” I ask, turning to face her as the thick blue doors click closed behind us.
Stacy purses her thick lips and my knees wobble even more.
Maybe I’m not actually attracted to her. Maybe I just think that hate-fucking each other would do some good to work out whatever hostility is always floating in between us.
“I don’t hate you,” she starts, folding her arms over her chest. The motion makes her impressive cleavage even more pronounced in her patterned neon sports bra and I almost lose my breath .
Nope. Definitely attracted to her.
I bark out a laugh. “Stacy. Don’t lie to me.”
“I don’t!” she shrieks. “Hate is a really strong word.”
“By all means, pick your word of choice.” There’s still a cheesy grin plastered across my face. “Loathe? Despise? Detest?”
“Alright, calm down, Merriam-Webster.” She sighs, combing a hand through her blonde hair. My heart speeds up in response.
Dammit. Not only am I definitely still attracted to this woman, but I think I’m even more attracted to her now than I was last year. Perfect .
My voice softens as I reach out to take her wrist again. The touch of my skin on hers makes us both flinch, but we recover quickly. “Seriously, Stace. We’re more than teammates this season. You’ve got to be honest with me.”
She concedes with another sigh, pulling her wrist out of my hand and looking up at me through her thick eyelashes.
“Cheerleading is my life, Reece. It’s what I’m good at and this is my last chance to get even better.
I don’t feel like you take anything seriously, least of all cheerleading.
I need a partner that’s willing to work for it, to try really, really hard because that’s what I do. ”
“Hey, I take cheerleading seriously,” I protest.
“Do you?” she challenges with a brow raised. “You’re always goofing off, you’re always fucking around.”
“I didn’t know it was against the rules to have fun.”
“Sometimes it feels like this sport is a big joke to you,” she goes on like I didn’t interject.
I can’t lie. Stacy’s assessment of my drive and passion for cheer kind of stings. I became a collegiate athlete on my own merit and I’m just as good and proud of it as anyone else on our squad.
I square my shoulders and shake away the momentary pain. “It’s not, Stacy,” I swear. “But you have to give me a chance here. Okay?”
She huffs in response, turning to whip her hair in my face and pulling open the doors to the gym. She disappears back into the hallway, leaving me alone in the increasingly suffocating summer morning.
Clearly, my plan to befriend (also see: possibly sleep with) Stacy is going swimmingly.
I groan, pushing back into the cool gym to finish out the rest of our practice. The next two hours go much like the first one and Stacy gives me no more than a couple of grumbles and a massively impressive side eye when I try and chat with her.
Communication is key, folks.
When I’m drenched in sweat and my muscles are spent, Propst finally calls it a day and excuses us all. I’m trying not to let Stacy’s icy exterior freeze my warm and sunny demeanor when I sling my gym bag over my shoulder and pull my phone out.
Stacy’s attitude is all but forgotten as I stare at the text from the one person who can wipe a smug grin off my face any day.
Evan: Dinner tonight?