Twisted Palace(65)

Her smile fades. “There is no me and Wade.”

“Yeah?” I raise one eyebrow. “Then why did you drive three hours to watch him play football?”

She huffs in outrage. “I didn’t come here for him. I came for you!”

“Uh-huh, even though I’m not even going to see you tonight because I’ll be with Reed?”

Val scowls. “Someone needs to have your back at the game. What if Jordan tries something?”

My lips twitch. “We both know I can handle Jordan. So why don’t you just admit it? You came for Wade.”

“It’s the first matchup of the playoffs, and it’s an away game,” she grumbles. “Astor Park needs all the support it can get.”

I burst out laughing. “Oh, now you have school spirit? God, Val, you’re such a terrible liar.”

She flips me the bird. “You know what? I don’t like you right now.” But she’s laughing as she says it.

“That’s okay,” I answer sweetly. “You can fill your liking quota with Wade, because, um, we both know you do.”

That gets me a pillow to the head. I catch it easily, then toss it back to Val. “I’m just teasing you,” I assure her. “If you like Wade, great. If you don’t, also great. I support you in everything you do.”

Her tone softens, and there’s a crack in her voice as she says, “Thank you.”





21





Ella





Even as I warm up with the other girls, I’m still expecting some sort of ambush. My wary gaze darts toward Jordan after each stretch and exercise I complete, but she seems focused on her own stretches. Maybe this is legit? I mean, I practiced with these girls all week, and I didn’t get so much as a hint that they might be up to something. I’m praying that nobody is going to throw a bucket of pig’s blood on me when I’m in the middle of a tumbling routine.

As Hailey and I head for the bench to rehydrate, she leans in closer and whispers, “There are, like, a hundred girls staring at you right now.”

I frown and follow her gaze. Sure enough, there are a lot of female eyes on me. Male ones, too, because of the booty shorts and crop top I’m wearing. But the girls aren’t checking me out—they’re all looking at me in…envy?

It doesn’t make sense to me at first, but when I pass a group of jersey-wearing girls in the front row, the pieces suddenly slide together.

“That’s his girlfriend!” one hisses loud enough for me to overhear.

“She’s so pretty,” her friend whispers back, sounding sincere rather than catty.

“She’s lucky, more like it,” the first one responds. “I’d die to go out with Reed Royal.”

This is about Reed? Wow. I guess that girl on the bus was right—bad boys do have major appeal. I glance at the away bench, where Reed is sitting with Easton, then at the stands, and realize that a ton of girls are looking covetously at Reed.

Jordan sidles up to me. “Quit eye-fucking your boyfriend,” she mutters. “We’re going on soon.”

I glance over at her. “I’m pretty sure every chick in this stadium is doing the same thing. I guess it’s every girl’s fantasy to hook up with a murder suspect?”

My nemesis snorts in amusement, then slaps a hand over her mouth as if she realizes what she’d done. I’m kind of surprised, too, since Jordan and I aren’t exactly joking-around friends. Or friends, period.

The non-toxic exchange must have freaked Jordan out, because she suddenly snarls at me. “Your shorts are riding up. I can see half your ass. Fix yourself up, will you?”

I fight a grin as she stalks off, because we both know the industrial double-stick tape on my ass means my shorts haven’t moved an inch. Maybe I’ve been going about this the wrong way—instead of shooting insults and antagonizing Jordan, maybe I should be extra sweet and friendly. That would drive her insane.

I turn toward the bleachers again in search of Val. When I spot her a few rows behind the away bench, I give her a happy wave. She waves back and then shouts, “Break a leg!”

Grinning, I rejoin the team and bounce up and down on my heels a little, mentally preparing myself for the routine. I think I have it down pat, but hopefully I don’t forget all the moves once the spotlight is on me.

Since it’s the first playoffs game, the pre-show is ridiculously extravagant. There’s a drum line routine punctuated by fire shooting out of big pillars on either side of the field and a short display of fireworks. The Gibson High cheerleaders put on a routine that involves a lot of butt-shaking and hip-swaying, causing all the guys in the stands to jump to their feet and whistle and catcall. Then it’s our turn. The girls and I run onto the field. I catch Reed’s eye as I get in position next to Hailey.