She rolls her eyes, well aware that I’m lying. “I said, good luck today. I know it’s a big one.” Her other hand runs down my arm, feeling my bicep. “Are you nervous?”
“About what? Practice?” I scoff. “This is like my millionth swim practice, Reagan. No. I’m not nervous.”
“I mean about the captain announcement.”
Well, fuck.
I wasn’t.
I narrow my eyes. “Why, have you heard something?”
“Ah, no?” Her fingers tickle my neck. “It’s just... I got really nervous before cheerleading announcements last fall. I’d worked really hard for my position, and you know how Campbell can be about playing favorites.”
“Ah, right, cheerleading.” My grin must not look as condescending as it feels, since she just nods in response. Some schools that cheer competitively might be comparable to the pure athleticism of swim, but Preston’s squad is nothing more than hot pieces of ass prancing around in short skirts with their tits bouncing all over. “The coach makes this call, not some status-conscious bitch. Our captains are based on experience and leadership. I’m the obvious choice.”
The bravado is only a little false. I know good and well that Adams has a chance of sliding in and stealing my spot. But I have a little insurance in the form of my father’s gracious donation to the swim club. A little extra security in case Coach decided to make a decision based on empathy rather than merit.
Speaking of…
I can see Adams turning down the hallway from over the top of Reagan’s head. She’s got this small but sunny smile on her face, which is weird. I lift my head to watch her, that small smile growing. Where’s the blank sadness? The stoic indignation?
That’s when I notice Tyson Riggins, her new little friend, loping along beside her.
My hand curls into a fist, teeth clenching.
God, I hate that guy.
He’s only been here for a week, and he’s already upsetting the established social order at the school. Someone needs to explain to him that Gwendolyn Adams is strictly persona non grata. She’s kryptonite. Off limits.
Mine.
“Babe!”
“What?” I snap, glaring down at Reagan. She looks almost as annoyed as I feel. Good. It’d sure be nice if she stopped buzzing around me like a pesky fly.
“I said, I’ve got to get to Econ.” Despite her annoyance with me, her face tilts up, like she’s expecting a kiss.
My eyes dart back over to Adams and our gazes instantly lock. Normally, she’d never let that happen, and if she did, she’d probably look away.
She doesn’t.
Knowing her eyes are on me, that something about this has gained her interest, makes me wrap my arm around Reagan’s waist and pull her close.
“Thanks for stopping by,” I say, flipping on the charm. I touch her chin and plant a kiss on her mouth. She reacts with zeal, kissing me back passionately, like she’s trying to crawl into my skin. Almost instantly, I regret all of this.
Down girl, that’s enough.
I try not to grimace when I see that Reagan’s eyes are glazed, but she ultimately walks off, nearly tripping over her feet. I feel the heat of Gwendolyn’s eyes boring into me and wish I didn’t. What, did she think there was something going on with us? That she meant something to me?
If anything, my lapse in judgment cemented the fact that I need to just stay away from alcohol.
And Adams? I really, really need to stay away from her. Which, I realize fifteen minutes later, after a rousing welcome from Coach James, is going to be more challenging than I think. We’re sorted into the same competitive lane.
I lower my goggles and dive in, immediately setting the pace. Heston follows, then Gwendolyn, and a junior who’s fast as hell. Even in the water I want my distance from her, so I push too fast, and I know—I know I’m working my shoulder harder than I should, but I don’t let up, not an inch. I take a breather at the end of the lap, rotating my stiffening shoulder to ease out the burning tightness. Heston stops when I do, always looking for a short cut.
“
Did you see Adams?” he pants, water dripping down his grinning face. “I think her tits got bigger since last year.”