Page 55 of The Cheerleader is Off Limits

“Niiiice. What class?”

“Biology.”

“Oh, who do you have?”

I swallow hard, not wanting to bring this up or draw Delaney’s attention to a football coach named River that I’ve been sleeping with for the past two weeks. “Mr. Kincaid.”

“Oh God. That man somehow got hotter over the summer. Isn’t he gorgeous? I know you probably haven’t seen him in shorts but wait until you see him while he’s coaching.Goddamn.He’s got a tattoo from here to here,” she says, lifting her leg up to show me where they are. Plus, his arms are practically fully covered.”

“Yeah… he’s… fine,” I say, wishing we could get off this subject.

“Fine with a capital F! Half the girls in the school unashamedly have a crush on him,” she says just as a text pops up on her phone, grabbing her attention.

I shake my head before I rest my chin on my hand. “Well… not me.”

“Too bad. You could actually do something about it.”She giggles.

“I’m still his student. I’m sure it is highly illegal.”

“And highly hot.” She laughs before tapping my nose with the tip of her finger.

CHAPTER 13

RIVER

“Alright guys, good practice!” I call out to my guys after blowing my whistle to signal the end of practice, and I roll my eyes when practically everyone turns to the opposite end of the field, where the cheerleaders are making their way onto the field to start their tryouts. After last year, when I learned it was practically a disaster to have the football team and cheerleading squad practicing at the same time within eyesight, I coordinated with the cheer coach to set different practice times for our teams this year because neither team needed the distraction. I don’t know how many times I had to clock my players for gawking at them instead of practicing.

“The new girl is a cheerleader too? Dear God,” one of the guys says.

“D said she’s single.”

“She looks like Sabrina Carpenter.”

“But hotter.”

“Anda cheerleader.” There are more comments than I can even keep up with, but my eyes float toward the group of girls down the field, and I’m grateful for the Wayfarers still sitting in front of my eyes while my eyes focus on Sloane.

Of course, she’s a cheerleader. Because my life can’t be fucking easy at all.

“Alright alright, back off,” Mack says as he pulls his helmet off and grabs his Gatorade from the sidelines.

“Ooooh, are you calling off-limits?” Mike asks.

“I’m not calling anything.” Mack scoffs. “But she’s new, and she’s shy, so don’t all go sniffing around her.”

I wouldn’t call Sloane shy, but okay.“Oh, he’s iiiinto her,” someone sings as they start making their way off the field, and I try not to let it bother me.

What Sloane did was her business. Not mine.

I know I’ve been hard on her, but it was the only way to keep us from crossing any lines or letting them get blurry. The tougher I was, the more she’d hate me, and we could keep up the ruse that we had never met before yesterday.

And by the end of class tomorrow, I was sure she would fully hate me.

The bell rings, dismissing my third period, and I watch as the students file out of the room, except for Sloane. I’ve noticed that Mack typically walks out with her, and I'm trying to ignore the pang of annoyance that follows that realization. But today, I notice her motioning toward the door, presumably to tell him to go on without her. I know Rowan said I shouldn’t be alone with her, and after today, I have no intention of being, but I need to clear the air. When the last student leaves the room, I watch as Sloane slowly gets up and makes her way toward my desk.

Her eyes dart to the door, and I’m grateful that it’s closed in case things get heated. “What the fuck is this?” she asks while holding up the diagnostic quiz I’d given them to assess their knowledge level. “All of these answers are correct. I know you were probably just handed this job with zero qualifications because you’re a good football coach or whatever, but it would be great if you actually knew what you were talking about and were at all qualified to teach an honors biology class before you went around handing out D’s,” she snaps. I raise an eyebrow at her, and I’ll admit she may have struck a nerve.

“You are asking for detention, Sloane.”