“If it’s lame, we can always go somewhere else.”
“I dunno. It could be fun.”
It seemed like the Kayla I’d met at the wedding was back, and I was thrilled. I wasn’t sure how much work I was going to have to do tonight to get her over the rivalry, but the answer seemed to be none.
I paid for our tickets into the stadium, and we walked around the fence toward the visitors’ stands. It was dotted with a few people in purple watching the varsity game already in progress, but the home team was up by seven.
“You want any snacks?” I asked.
She shook her head, not looking at me as we climbed the metal stands. No, she was already engrossed in the game playing on the brightly lit grass.
A huge roar came from the crowd of green jerseys on the other side of the field as the quarterback passed the ball and the receiver gained fifteen yards. Kayla made a face and leaned in close to me, her voice low. “What kind of defense was that supposed to be? Zone?”
I gave half a smile. “How was practice for you?”
“It was good. The new cheerleaders picked up the routines fast.” Her gaze drifted to me, like she was reluctant. “And how was practice for you?”
It was hard for her, but at least she was trying. “It was fine. Hot.” I’d rather keep the focus on her. “How many more weeks of camp do you have?”
“Just one. School starts the week after.”
Another swell of shouts came from the large stands across the field. Kayla’s expression hardened. “Did the coaches forget to teach their boys how to block?”
She wasn’t wrong. “Maybe we should watch the cheerleaders.”
Her lips pressed together. Uh oh. I played, which meant when I wasn’t on the field, I was on the sidelines watching my teammates. I didn’t know shit about cheerleading. “They’re not any good either?”
“They’re fine, the problem is me.” She softened. “Cheerleading in high school is totally different from college. Here it’s all about school spirit and performing. In college, we do more stunts and less of the cute routines. People come to watch the game, not us.”
The girls in purple cheerleading uniforms danced on the track, performing more for their coach than anyone else, since the stands were nearly empty.
“Like, their precision is good,” Kayla continued, “but this cheer they’re doing isn’t easy to repeat. It needs to be simple and familiar for the crowd to get into.” Her gaze went back to the game.
“You like cheering in college better.”
She nodded. “I love it. My high school didn’t have a co-ed squad, and I’m all about stunting. The guys can throw me really high. Also, I get to watch the games for free, from the sidelines.” She glanced at me and smiled. “Can’t beat that.”
My days were grueling, and the season hadn’t started yet. It was easy to forget everything except how much work football could be. The enthusiasm in her voice was nice. A needed reminder as I was about to head into training camp.
“Our cheerleaders travel with us when we fly,” I said. “Most of the male cheerleaders are—”
“Gay?” Her tone was defensive. “That’s a huge misconception. Most of them aren’t.”
“I was going to go with ‘athletic,’ as you like to say.”
“Oh.” She relaxed. “Yeah. One of our guys used to play football in high school, but he’s too short to play at the college level. So, he tried out for the squad last year, and the guy’s a freaking beast. Nobody’s better. He said football’s all about lifting weights, but cheerleading? All about the abs and back.”
I could deal with lifting all day, but inclined sit-ups? Pass. “I gotta ask. If your male teammates are straight, how do you get anything done? They have to be hitting on you non-stop.”
“Other cheerleaders in my squad? Never.” She acted like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. “Think about it like this. The guys are my coworkers. We see each other for hours every day, sometimes when we’re not at our best, because we’re tired, or sick, or frustrated practice isn’t going well. Personalities don’t match, not to mention, it screws up the team dynamic.”
“Okay,” I said. “No dating within your squad. What about outside of it?”
Kayla tensed for a split-second. So fast, I nearly missed it. “Where are you going with this line of questioning, Eighty-Eight?”
Yeah. Where the fuck was I going? We weren’t supposed to talk about exes on a first date; I knew better. Except, I couldn’t kill my curiosity. “I wanna know why you’re single.”
She turned slowly to look at me and her expression was impossible to read. “Why are you single?”
I ran my fingers through my hair, stalling while I came up with an answer. I could give her the standard one that I didn’t have time. Most guys on the team didn’t lock a girl down during the season. But I went with the real reason. “I’m having a great career at Michigan. That makes it hard to tell who’s genuine.” Did she understand what I meant?