Chapter 2
Zach
I could pick her voice out of a million others.
It’s with me now on the field as she cheers from the sideline.
It’s with me in my sleep.
Jill Harding.
The girl who has always owned my heart.
I struggle not to glance over at her now, to make sure she’s all right.
I have a hard time concentrating at away games because I don’t like Jill being in unfamiliar—and often hostile—territory.
And I can’t be in two places at once. If I had my pick, I would walk off the field right now and find a discreet but nearby place to stand and look out for her.
But I don’t have a choice. Not really. Because what would that look like?
The ugly, hulking linebacker stalking the sweet, gorgeous little cheer captain.
I’d embarrass her. Hell, I’d embarrass myself.
It doesn’t help my mood that my teammates were talking about her in the locker room.
Wondering out loud why the prettiest girl in school doesn’t have a homecoming date yet.
They reached the conclusion I reached weeks ago—Jill is waiting for Miguel to ask her.
And that makes sense, doesn’t it? The head cheerleader going to the dance with the quarterback.
The offensive lineman directly across from me blanches, the color leeching from his face and I realize I must look deranged, biting down on my mouthpiece hard enough to cut through the rubber, my fingers digging into the sod.
My coach and teammates think I’m ruthless by nature. I’m not.
I’m only on this team so I can keep an eye on Jill without being obvious.
But then I have these moments, these bursts of frustration and they translate into me making the all-county team three years running.
It might be kind of funny if it wasn’t so tragic.
The lineman mooning over the girl who is light years out of his fucking league, spending hours practicing and attending games, just so nobody tries to mess with her on the bus rides.
The ball gets snapped and I plow through their lineman, diving for the quarterback and wrapping an arm around his waist, dragging him down to the ground. Our cheering section is still huge at away games and they go crazy now, but all I hear is her voice.
Go, Zach! Oh my God! That’s his third sack!
They launch into a cheer and I chance a look over at the sidelines while we wait for the offense to finish their huddle.
There she is. The girl who is a terrible singer, sleeps in a fluffy pink eye mask and dressed up as Judge Judy three Halloweens in a row.
The girl who is kind to everyone, even the people who hate her on sight because they assume she’s a cliché.
She’s not. She is goofy, she always supports an underdog and will pick up bugs and spiders with her bare hands.
When my grandmother passed away, she came over and cooked for our family for two weeks.
And she burned most of it, but I savored every bite.
Damn, she’s so beautiful. My fucking heart can barely keep up with the beats required to be this close to her.
We win the game.
Afterward, I head for the bus, but I don’t see Jill.
Not even in the group of cheerleaders. Her blonde hair tied up in its red, game night bow is nowhere to be found and I panic.
Acid spears up into my chest and sounds are tinny, the ground seems to expand and contract under my feet.
What if she wandered into the rival stands and they hurt her?
I throw my helmet down on the ground. Ignoring the questioning looks from my teammates, I dig through the pocket of my sweatshirt for my phone. Not wanting to freak her out or show my hand, I rarely call her unless it’s an emergency, but she should be here. She should be here and she’s not.
Her voice in my ear stops my pulse and restarts it. “Hey, Zach.”
I take several centering breaths and I still sound like I’m being strangled. She sounds okay. Doesn’t sound hurt. Calm down . “Where are you?”
“Oh, I hopped on the bus already.” My eyes tick to the row of windows. There she is, her giant bow peeking over the sill of the very last one. She pinkie waves at me. “Hi.”
Absently, I hear Miguel asking the group of cheerleaders if they’ve seen Jill and my hand squeezes around the phone until it creaks.
He’s going to ask her to homecoming. I’ve seen it coming.
But the closer the day gets, the harder it gets for me not to deck the motherfucker.
And the worst part is, he’s a pretty nice guy.
I’d even let my sister date him. But him with Jill?
Agonizing. “Why are you on the bus early? Was someone bothering you?”
“No. No, not at all. I, um…wanted to finish up this podcast. It’s about the mating habits of the Atlantic walrus. Fascinating stuff.”
My mouth threatens a smile.
That’s another thing about Jill. I might have been studying her for years. I might know her better than anyone. And I still never know what is going to come out of her mouth.
“Do you…” Her breath strokes my ear. “Do you want to be an early bird with me?”
Do I want to cram my enormous, sweaty body into a seat with her sweet-smelling, perfectly formed one?
Yes, and no. Yes, because being with her is when I’m happiest. No, because won’t I repulse her?
I’m not exactly at my freshest right now.
And I’m always like a mountain in comparison to her.
“You don’t want to sit with your friends? ”
“You are my friend.” There’s a pause. “I-I mean…aren’t you?”
“Of course I am,” I say gruffly.
Maybe not such a great one, though. Since I’ve been beating off to her relentlessly since eighth grade and spend a sick amount of time wondering what it would be like to slide my tongue through the softness of her pussy.
Sitting next to her will be a cross between paradise and hell, but I can’t stand the thought of her questioning our friendship, so I stow my gear in the open luggage compartment and lumber onto the bus.
My bulk hits every seat on my way to the rear of the vehicle and heat climbs my neck.
But I forget everything and just try to breathe when I reach the final seat and there’s Jill, waiting for me with her sunshine smile.
“Great game,” Jill says, smoothing her cheerleading skirt.
I sit down beside her and try not to take up every inch of available space. “Thanks, Jilly Beans.” Our thighs press together and my dick turns rock hard, making it necessary to tug my jersey down to cover the growing bulge in my football pants. Breathe. “How was it on the sidelines?”
“Oh, you know.” She forces a laugh. “The usual.”
“No, I don’t know. What’s the usual?”
She makes a wishy-washy sound and I study the play of shadow and light on her beautiful face. “Some of the students do the chants, some of them just mock us.”
Something hardens in my throat. “This is the first I’m hearing of this.”
“It’s not a big deal. They probably just think…I don’t know. Because we’re cheerleaders and considered popular that we’re immune to criticism. Or we need to be taken down a peg.” She shrugs a shoulder. “It doesn’t matter to me. I don’t do it for them.”
“Who do you do it for?”
“You.” Twin spots appear on her cheeks. “I-I mean the team.”
Mainly the quarterback? I swallow that uncomfortable thought. “If anyone says something out of line, I want to know about it.”
She nods. “Okay.”
My teammates start to board the bus, followed by the laughing cheerleaders and coaches. Is it my imagination or does Jill sink down farther into the seat? Does she not want to be seen sitting next to me? “I can move,” I offer.
“Why?” She wets her lips. “Am I talking too much?”
“What?” I chuckle over her question. “No.”
Her shoulders relax. “Then…stay?”
If she asked me to ride home on the roof, I would do it. “All right.”
We both settle back against the seat and I go back to praying she doesn’t notice my hard-on.
It’s a familiar position, but it never gets easier.
I used to sit in the living room with Jill and Harper on the weekends during their movie marathons.
Can’t do it now, though. Not with the way Jill sprawls out on the couch, always dressed in itty bitty shorts or leggings that leave nothing to the imagination.
Now, whenever she’s in my house, I spend most of the time jerking off to the sound of her giggle drifting through my bedroom door.
If Jill knew the thoughts I’ve had, she definitely wouldn’t want to sit beside me.
She’d probably never set foot in my house again.
I’m distracted by a smattering of cheers and glance up toward the front of the bus where our kicker is hugging one of the cheerleaders in the aisle.
“He must have asked her to homecoming,” Jill murmurs, smiling. “That’s sweet.”
I grunt. “Is that how you’d like to be asked? On the bus?”
“I hadn’t thought of it.” She rakes her palms up and down her thighs. “It’s a lot of pressure, isn’t it? Going to the dance with someone. All those expectations…”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…” She adjusts her bow nervously. “Sex. It’s all people seem to talk about lately, isn’t it? Who is doing it. Where. When. Why people haven’t done it yet.”
Barbed wire coils in my belly, sharp and dangerous. “Is someone pressuring you for sex?”
Her eyes shoot wide. “Me? No!” She seems to gather her thoughts. “But…everyone feels a little bit of pressure, don’t they? We’re eighteen now. We’re almost expected to be…exploring.”
It takes me a moment for the tension to ebb from my gut. If someone had been pressuring her for anything, I would have beat the stuffing out of them. And that would have only been the beginning. Thankfully that doesn’t seem to be the case. Not entirely, anyway.
“Hey, Jilly Beans.” I tip her chin up to make sure I have her attention. “You don’t have to do a damn thing until you’re ready.”
“What if I am ready?” she whispers, sounding out of breath. “For sex.”