Fourteen
Reece
The ass kissing has not worked.
It’s been two weeks since Evan’s engagement party and despite our team and individual practices, chatting in a group message with my siblings (and Tashia, how lovely), and going to Stacy’s apartment twice to FaceTime her mom with her, Stace is still sticking to her guns.
Every attempt I make at apologizing is met with a solemn stare and a reminder that our relationship is, indeed, fake and doesn’t require any mending.
Of course, I beg to differ considering our stunting progress seems to be regressing.
It’s like Stacy being mad at me is directly affecting how we move—though, to be fair, we weren’t exactly in sync before.
I’ve tried to talk to her about it but she just waves me off and scowls at me, telling me that our emotions aren’t linked to our stunts.
Whatever.
“I don’t know what to do,” I mutter to Drew as we stretch out on the cheer mats.
It’s game day, the first game of football season and the energy in the room as we stretch is palpable. Everyone’s hyped up, ready to go, and I wish I could revel in the excitement with my team. But, instead, my stupid mind is completely occupied by my situation with Stacy.
Stacy, who’s still MIA this morning even though we were all supposed to be here ten minutes ago.
Her parents are in town. Maybe she lost track of time having breakfast with them or something.
A hypothetical breakfast that I wasn’t invited to, but that’s neither here nor there.
“Still no luck getting through to Stace? Where is she anyway?” Drew asks as he glances around the gym and stretches out his calves.
I shrug. “How should I know? She won’t talk to me.” I scan the cheerleaders in the room to look for Mae, hoping she knows where Stacy is, but as soon as my gaze lands on her, she shoots me a cold glare.
Yeah, that adds up.
“I can’t believe you got involved with Stacy Dunn in the first place,” Miles says from beside us, sipping on a green smoothie and watching us stretch.
I groan. “First of all, you told me to. Second of all, why the hell are you here?”
“Hey.” Miles points at me with his smoothie. “I told you to get a fake girlfriend. I suggested Chelsea. You’re the one who flew off the rails and asked Stacy.”
“Are you even allowed in here?” Drew mutters, kneeling to stretch his quads.
Miles shrugs. “I’ve never been told differently. Besides, I miss Mae.”
I shake my head and pull my right arm across my chest. “You want to judge me for my shit with Stacy when you have the world’s weirdest crush on the most unattainable woman.”
Miles offers me a goofy grin. “Mae likes me more than she lets on. Trust me.”
“I don’t.”
A loud clap brings our attention to the middle of the room where Propst is standing. She’s in her no-nonsense game day attire, blue jeans and a Sharks polo, with a clipboard under her left arm and a frown etched into her face.
I think that might just be her permanent expression, though.
“Alright. Happy game day, Sharks,” she says, her loud voice reverberating off the bleachers and mats.
She glances around the room and then down at her clipboard.
“Agenda item number one: Miles Gray, why the hell are you in my gym? This is not a hockey rink and if you think it is, I’m worried that you’ve taken one too many pucks to the head. ”
Miles smirks at her, completely unbothered with his straw in between his lips. “Never too late to learn something new, right? Put me in, Coach. I’m ready.”
She jabs her clipboard towards the exit. “Get. Out.”
Miles just smiles wider before winking at me and Drew. “Later.”
Little shit disturber.
“Secondly,” she continues after Miles lets himself out, “don’t forget to dismount on five instead of six during the libs in our fight song.
Lastly, you might notice we are short a teammate.
Stacy is sick today and won’t be joining us, unfortunately.
Taylor, just cheer and mark the stunts today.
She’ll be back in commission by next game day.
Everyone all good? Great. Let’s kick some ass. ”
The team starts to dissipate to follow Propst out to the tunnel for our rally, but my brain is short circuiting.
Is Stacy actually sick? Or is she making up excuses because she’s terrified to stunt with me in front of a crowd, scared to disappoint her parents if we don’t crush our routines?
Why wouldn’t she tell me? She might be mad but she’s my stunt partner, after all, and she should be relaying these things to me.
“Mae, Mae,” I hiss as she walks by with Jamie.
She stops and narrows her eyes at me, crossing her arms over her chest with pom-poms in hand. “What do you want, Taylor?”
“What’s wrong with Stacy?”
She shrugs. “She told me this morning that she’s throwing up.”
“Is she?” I demand.
Mae raises a brow at me like I’ve lost my mind. “I don’t know, I didn’t fact check her.”
Shit.
I amble towards the locker rooms to grab my bag, even though we’re supposed to be heading in the opposite direction for the pre-game festivities.
“Where are you going?” Mae hollers from across the gym.
I don’t turn around as I shout back, “Tell Propst I caught whatever Stacy has. I’ll see you Monday.”