Chapter 19
O nce Kota’s finished, I kneel down in front of Ever to cover her tattoo with black tape that’s more noticeable than the ink itself, smoothing out the tape more times than necessary. The skin my fingers graze pebbles, making me wonder about the state of her nipples. Are they hard? Does she need them covered with tape, too? That’s something I could do for her.
That’s something I want to do for her. Very much. Except I’ll just skip the tape and use my tongue.
I glance up, finding my protectee watching me closely.
Fuck. I have to get a grip, preferably of my cock later to release some of this goddamn buildup. I’m as horny as Ever all of a sudden.
“Got it?” she asks.
Not trusting my voice, all I can do is nod.
Kota snickers, but I don’t look at her to investigate why.
Ever hands over her jade before she and Kota run out of the tent to join the rest of the team.
The tape and jade back in Ever’s bag, I’m about to zip it up when I hear, “So…did you keep someone?”
I turn around to find Eighmey, a half-smile dancing on her red-stained lips. With hair longer than Ever’s, it’s all up in a ponytail, curls both on top of and around her head giving her an additional seven inches of height. Damn. These cheerleaders are something else. Kinda makes me grateful wrestling matches don’t get cheerleaders. I never would’ve been able to focus.
“No, we were interrupted.” Not that I wouldn’t have liked to keep my butterfly. It’s just I was on the clock that night and didn’t really have anywhere to take her. Which she didn’t seem to mind… Until she disappeared.
“Mm. I know about that.”
“Do you?” Was it her? She’s short enough.
“Yeah. Ever…”
Oh, the interruption from the other night.
“She can be a real bitch,” she adds.
I bite my teeth together so hard my temples ache. Ever is a bitch. I call her that in my head at least a dozen times a day. But that doesn’t mean I enjoy hearing anyone else say it.
Unclenching my jaw, I ask, “How about you? Did you find anyone?”
She shrugs a shoulder. “Maybe.”
Maybe? What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? If anything, that leaves me with more questions.
“Eighmey!” some girl yells as she jogs through the opening, keeping me from asking if Eighmey was dressed as a monarch butterfly. “Oh, sorry.” She laughs when she sees us. “Did you bring hairspray?”
“I did but there wasn’t much left. I used it all up.”
“I think Ever still has some,” I offer, then search through Ever’s bag until I find some brand I’ve never even heard of.
I walk over to hand the can to the girl.
She thanks me and promises to return it when she’s done.
“Keep it,” I tell her. Ever can afford to buy another. Hundred.
Outside is a flurry of activity. There’s a lot of running around, counting, nodding, different types of flips, ass-shaking, that girl now spraying another girl down with the hairspray, and—
“I don’t want to monopolize any more of your time, but could I get your…”
Eighmey’s voice fades away as Ever comes into focus. She’s airborne again but not like the other night. She’s fucking soaring through the air, high up above everyone’s heads, her body spinning too many times to count before coming right back down into six arms instead of just Nathen’s two hands.
What the fuck was that?
Next to me, Eighmey says, “That’s a basket.”
Did I ask that out loud?
“She’s gonna get hurt.”
The sound of bodies colliding when Ever landed was not natural. It sounded painful. It looked painful.
Eighmey latches on to my elbow, making me realize I was moving. For Ever.
“She’ll be fine. Ever doesn’t make mistakes.”
“I don’t…” I don’t know why anyone would willingly do that. Someone hoisting you over their head momentarily is one thing. Being catapulted into the sky with no safety equipment whatsoever is another and it’s insane.
“So…can I?”
“What?” I flick my gaze to Eighmey, her expression hopeful. “I’m…not on social media.” I think that’s what she asked. If I was on some kind of app.
“At all?”
“No,” comes out as I watch Ever get propelled into the air a second time, my heart feeling like it’s going with her. I don’t take another breath until she’s slamming back into those same arms.
“Text then?”
Tearing my arm from her hold, I rush over to Ever and pull her out from the three guys surrounding her.
Her laugh dies off when she sees my face. “What’s wrong?”
“You can’t do that again.”
“Do what?”
I gesture above our heads.
“You said it was okay for cheer. This is cheer.”
She thinks I’m talking about her being touched. It has nothing to do with that.
“I changed my mind.”
She steps close, too close while she looks like that , and pleads, fucking pleads , “Don’t take this from me,” like it’s the only thing she has.
“It’s too dangerous,” I plead right back like she’s the only thing I have.
Her features soften as she realizes I’m a pussy-ass bitch with a fear of heights. It’s not my heights I’m scared of though. It’s hers.
“If you die, I don’t get paid,” I say with a gruff voice in an effort to recover some of my masculinity. Shit’s slipping by the second.
“Nothing’s going to go wrong during my last performance. I promise.”
I scoff, my lips numb. “Until next season and then we gotta do this shit all over again.”
Ever doesn’t reply, only gives a single nod. I’m not trying to jinx her. I just…
Fuck. I have to get used to it somehow. Maybe I just won’t watch the baskets. The stunts, I’m pretty sure I can handle. Even though I don’t want another man’s hands on her, as long as Nathen’s got one of his on her at all times, I should be okay. Dude’s strong. He got his pickles. I saw him gnawing on one in the tent earlier. It’ll be all right. Ever’s gonna land right where she’s supposed to, no hiccups.
“How many times do you do baskets?”
“How’d you know what they’re called?” She laughs again, not mockingly, almost like she’s impressed.
“Eighmey told me.”
The humor disappears as she looks past me, her eyes narrowing. I don’t care about Eighmey though. I don’t care if Ever’s mad she was talking to me. I don’t even care if she was my butterfly. I don’t fucking care.
“Ever?”
Her azure gaze returns to mine.
“How many?”
“Four.”
“Okay. All right.” I adjust my hat. “Well, uh, if you see me covering my eyes, no you didn’t.”
She shakes her head, a much smaller smile appearing as she teases, “You watch scary movies through your fingers, too, Major?”
“Something like that.” Nothing like that. I don’t have a problem watching other people get torn to shreds, but Ever? I don’t want to watch her so much as break a goddamn nail.
Maybe it’s because I do think she’s too prim and proper and prissy. Or maybe it’s because I want that million dollars. I don’t know what the exact reason is but I do know I’ve never felt like my heart was outside my body until I saw Ever up there. If I don’t watch her doing baskets, hopefully it won’t feel like that at all.
Practice resumes, everyone doing what looks like half-assed motions through something that resembles a routine, not a championship-winning routine in my opinion, but… What do I know? I just learned what a basket is. Kind of.
A few more run-throughs, then the team’s filing onto the main stage. I find a spot off to the side of the front to stand and watch.
While the team’s simultaneously hyping the crowd and getting into position, Ever says something to Kota, sending her friend over to relay the message to Eighmey. Arms down, smile bright, Eighmey books it to the opposite side of the stage, unconcealed confusion on her face when others shoot her questioning looks. They all bounce and wave, only earning a smattering of applause from the half-interested audience.
Talk about embarrassing.
I clap and whistle extra loud.
I don’t know how Ever finds me so quickly but our eyes connect for the briefest of moments.
For the first time in eight years, all the other looks in my direction don’t bother me. And surprisingly, neither do the whispers.
The music starts, the Perplexus remix of “Poison” by Rita Ora pouring from the speakers. The beat drops, sending the first staggered row into back handsprings toward the rear of the stage. Fifteen seconds later, a second row follows. A few seconds after that, another, until the whole stage is in motion—synchronized twists, jumps, and backflips—nothing like what they did during practice. With so many legs and arms and hair—so much fucking hair—it’s hard to focus on any one individual. At the thirty-second mark, flyers take flight, then there’re bodies everywhere—on the ground, in the air, everyone moving, everyone doing something different.
Any time I catch sight of Ever, I try my best to track her, not really giving a shit about anyone else up there, but it’s too fast, too chaotic, and I keep losing her.
My feet inch forward as they set up in the formation for baskets. I know I said I wasn’t gonna look but I literally can’t take my eyes off the middle one, hoping to fucking God it’s Ever’s. That’s where the top girl should be, right?
I rip my hat off to see better, not even thinking about my scar, only Ever. Where’s Ever?
Someone moves and I catch her black hair being bounced around in the middle of three guys.
Boom, boom. Two baskets thrown—one on each side—then Ever’s, and hers is so much higher than the others. Jesus fucking Christ, they launched her ass up there like a rocket going to space.
Boom, boom. The first two baskets land, leaving Ever up there by herself.
I swear the couple seconds she’s twirling stretches out to minutes, hours…
Fuck, when is she coming back down?
Then suddenly, boom, and I can breathe again.
Barely.
One down. Three to go.
Some shuffling takes place, then Nathen’s got Ever in a handstand over his head. They hold briefly before she flips into standing on his hands. Two other guys come over to help or spot, I’m not sure, and she starts switching from one leg to the other, posing in different ways. She’s just as graceful as a ballerina, except instead of dancing across a floor, she’s doing it on two motherfucking palms.
The fucking talent, the technique, the strength. Her legs haven’t trembled once. She’s a beast, a monster, an athlete, and I can admit I stand fucking corrected. Cheerleading’s a sport. No way some slob looking to add an extracurricular to their transcript could just sign up and do this shit. This is hard work and dedication right here.
With one foot held up above her head, Ever releases it and falls into the splits. All three guys catch different parts of her body—one on each leg and one in the middle getting a handful of…pussy. The skirts the girls are wearing are basically belts, flipped up from being in constant motion, their orange briefs beneath on full display the whole time, so it’s easy to see what is quite clearly a hand on my protectee’s pussy.
They’re already preparing for another basket, hands moving so fast I can no longer tell who’s grabbing what.
Flyers go up all at once and they come right back down.
Two down. Two to go.
More stunts, more tumbling, more insane athleticism at an insane pace.
Standing on Nathen’s shoulders, Ever runs her hands down over her hair, her torso, her hips, all while swaying her body to the rhythm of the song, then she points at the crowd to accentuate the lyrics, getting a fucking roar of applause from the now riveted audience. It’s sexy. Too sexy.
One corner of my lips quirks. She’s sexy. Too sexy. Even without Kota’s help fixing her hair, she would’ve been. No matter if she’s trying or not, she commands everybody’s attention.
I blink and she’s off Nathen’s shoulders, on the floor in front of him, doing something… I can’t see her because Eighmey’s doing a bunch of flips across the stage.
Fucking move.
By the time I get eyes on Ever again, she’s about to do another basket.
Airborne, ankle grab, spread eagle—Jesus fuck, I’ll be dreaming about that later—then she’s landing.
One left. That’s it. One gravity-defying aerial trick.
Still in her trio’s arms, they flip Ever from her stomach to her back. Her legs spread wide open, they fling her up to sitting on the shoulders of another girl who’s standing on a guy’s shoulders.
I press a fist to my mouth as my own stomach drops out my fucking ass. That’s too high, too many people, too many ways this shit can go wrong.
Another person runs over to help keep the girl Ever’s on steady. Ever sticks her arms up in a V, smiling as she scans the crowd, her passion for this evident.
Is that a tear in her eye? It might just be.
Leaning far forward, the other girl’s head dips as her hands push up on Ever’s feet, allowing Ever to do a front flip off her, landing into a mass of arms—
Oh shit! It happens so fast I’m not even sure what happens just that someone’s down.
Someone’s fucking down.
Ever.
I don’t see her, just bodies. Lots and lots of bodies as they all falter in their routine and start to congregate toward whoever got hurt.
I’m hopping onto the stage before I even know I’m moving, shoving those same bodies out of my fucking way.
“Ever? Where’s Ever?”
My eyes spot her midnight hair before her face. She’s standing. Thank fuck she’s standing.
“Are you okay?” I ask, going over to cradle her face.
Without answering, she stares up at me blankly.
“Are you okay?” I repeat.
Barely above a whisper, “No,” leaves her lips.
“What—”
I don’t know if she jerks back or someone bumps into her in the commotion, but she’s out of my hold, my fingertips still tingling.
“Jesus, there’s blood everywhere,” someone says.
Blood? I search Ever, finding no blood whatsoever.
The huddle beside us parts enough to reveal a crying Eighmey on the ground, her hands up to her mouth as blood seeps between her fingers.
Holy shit. There is fucking blood everywhere.
“How’d it happen?” someone asks.
“Either my leg wasn’t tucked tight enough, or she wasn’t in the right position, I don’t know, but my foot…”
I pull my gaze from Eighmey back over to Ever. She’s already staring directly at me in that same dead-eyed way as she finishes, saying, “It clipped her.”
This was her fault? She made a mistake? She promised she wouldn’t. She fucking promised.
Everyone begins rushing off the stage. Before we can get separated, I grab Ever, tucking her into my side. Her body’s rigid as hell, her heartbeat anything but. I can feel it pounding beneath my touch.
While everybody rushes to Eighmey’s side in the tent, Ever breaks away from me to retrieve her bag. I grab it from her just before she can get the strap over her shoulder.
She walks out without a word to me or her team. Are they mad at her for fucking up? It was just an unlucky accident.
Wrestling is practiced as a team but it’s very much an individual sport. You win or fail on your own. It’s both good and bad in that way.
“How’s your foot?” I ask as we weave our way through parked cars. She’s not limping at all. Or wincing.
“Like you fucking care,” she mutters.
“Actually I do.” Did she forget who the fuck I am?
“Really?”
She rounds on me so fast I almost run into her.
I return her glare with my own. I don’t know why we’re glaring, but if she’s got one directed at me, I got my own at the ready.
“You care?”
“Yeah.” If she’s in pain, I’m the one who’s gotta carry her. If she’s injured, I’m the one who’s taking her ass to the doctor. If she’s at the doctor, then I’m the one standing guard, making sure that motherfucker isn’t doing anything sus like that gyno she told me about because obviously her dad’s a fucking weirdo who puts too much thought into who can and can’t be in his daughter’s pussy. His ancient friend’s allowed to “inspect” it, but Ever’s not allowed to fuck around with guys her own age?
Make that shit make sense because I’m fucking struggling to.
It took everything in me not to go back into that house yesterday when I heard Arthur raise his voice at Ever. I don’t know what he said but I know how he said it and that was enough to see red. I had to lock myself inside my car and grip the steering wheel to keep from going in and bashing my boss’s head in. For Ever. Because everything I do now is to protect her .
“You care you made me ruin my last performance?”
“How the fuck did I make you ruin it? I was just watching from the—”
“Not then. Before. When you were getting a cheer lesson from Eighmey.”
I replay the last thirty minutes. The look on Ever’s face when she found out who told me what a basket was, her last-minute modification to the routine that changed Eighmey’s position in it.
“What the fuck did you do?”
“You saw what I did. You and everyone else. You all saw what I did!” she screams in my face, her voice about as reckless as that last basket.
My glare melts into a puddle of disbelief.
“You did that shit on purpose? You kicked a girl, your own fucking teammate, in the face, on purpose?”
“I warned her.”
“You warned her not to take up your bodyguard’s time. Not—”
“Exactly. My bodyguard. Mine .”
I take it back. She’s not a bird. She’s more of a…bat.
She is like a bat. Active at night, a little creepy, and territorial as all fuck.
“And as my bodyguard, if I tell you I don’t want you so much as glancing at another female while you’re on the job, then you better develop a fucking cataract the moment one enters your vision!”
Goddamn it, why is this such a turn-on? She kicked a girl’s teeth in over me. That’s gotta be the biggest red flag… So then why the hell am I over here acting like a raging bull in a ring, completely entranced by that shit, about to charge straight at it?
“Why does it matter who I look at?” Especially when she’s the only one I’m focused on anyway.
She swallows as she pops up those slender shoulders.
“How many ways do I have to explain it? The name Munreaux holds a certain standard of quality. It’d be the same if one of our salesmen was caught ogling a lesser motorcycle every chance he got. Except my father would fire the salesman. You’re getting off with a warning because for some reason my father refuses to fire you.”
Her possessiveness isn’t for me as in me just myself, but me as in her employee, her possession. Her prop. It could be anyone. Edwin even.
Would she get mad if her professor was sniffing around Edwin though?
“What’d you do to Johanna?”
Her eyes blaze but she says, “Nothing,” like it is nothing, like she’s not burning up over hearing me say that name.
“Your meeting with the dean… Johanna wasn’t the reason for it?”
The fire grows.
“Oh, she was.”
“Then—”
“I didn’t do anything to her.” She pauses and I swear to God I can hear her add “yet” in her mind. “I had an informative conversation with the dean about Professor Flemming’s behavior possibly interfering with my safety, which is supposed to be your main concern… Right?”
It’s not a question. It’s rhetorical, but meaner, like a jab.
“Right. Your safety is my concern. My only concern. And I don’t like the way those motherfuckers handle you.”
Might as well clear the air on everything. I got some shit to get off my chest, too.
Her posture finally thaws a fraction.
“Which ones?”
Any one that’s ever handled you.
“The stunter…guys.” Are they all bases?
She spins around, her back to me, and says, “Lucky for you, the season just ended.”
“Unlucky for me, your need to fly didn’t.”
“So what?” she snaps.
I grab her elbow. “So…if anyone’s going to…throw you…”
What am I doing?
“…between now and next season…”
Am I doing this?
“…it’s going to be me.”
Why am I doing this? I don’t know the first thing about this shit. I spent a good portion of my life getting people to the ground, not keeping them off it.
She faces me fully again. “You’re shitting me.”
“No. You want in the air, I’ll put you there.”
Because she’s mine, too. Mine to protect. And guys leaving bruises on her and copping feels during stunts isn’t safe. Not for her and sure as hell not for me. I will end a motherfucker and there won’t be anything involuntary about it. No one, not even God himself, is going to hurt her on my watch.
Unless it’s me because fuck, does she deserve it sometimes.
“You don’t know how.”
“You can teach me.”
“No, I can’t. You’re… You’re…” She waves a hand at me, a blush infusing her cheeks. “Out of shape.”
I drop her bag and step toward her. “Try me.”
“What? Now?”
“Right the fuck now.”
“I…” She pauses. “I don’t have time. I have to get ready for tonight.”
“That’s hours away and you’re already ready.”
“I’m performance ready. Not gala ready.”
I wouldn’t know the difference because I’ve never attended a gala, but Ever looks pretty damn perfect to me, especially with those pink cheeks. She wasn’t even winded when she got off stage and she wasn’t flushed, so why the hell’s she blushing now?
“Try me,” I repeat.
Her blue eyes flick back and forth between mine.
“It’s too dangerous out here. We need some kind of mat under us for when you drop me.”
“I won’t drop you.”
“Yes, you will.”
I want to argue again but I don’t actually know that I won’t. I’ll try my damnedest not to.
“You know of a gym we could use?”
“Yeah. Mine.”
She’s got a gym?