Page 57 of The Cheerleader is Off Limits

Rowan:

First week down, everything okay? I didn’t get any 911 texts, so I assume nothing is on fire?

I open my brother’s text while I sit on the couch in my living room. Normally, after a long week, I’d have some sort of plans to go out this weekend, but this week has been fucking taxing, and the exhaustion has set in. I had no plans but to sit on my couch and watch football and avoid thinking about anything that had to do with work or Sloane or how I was going to get through nine months of this. Our first football game was tomorrow, and I already felt distracted. I knew I would lock in once the game started, but right now, all I’m thinking about is what Sloane will look like in a cheerleading uniform.

Me:

Everything’s fine. So far so good.

I didn't tell him I had a private conversation with her in my classroom because I wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. And I certainly didn’t want to tell him that she practically handed my ass to me because I’m sure he’d agree with her.

I was being unnecessarily hard on her. Mack called me out on it on her second day. The whole point was to act as if she didn’t exist to avoid drawing attention to anything, yet I was openly singling her out.

Fuck.

And who knows what she may have said to the counselor when she requested a switch from my class. And even if she said nothing, if it gets back to Langford that I may be harder on Sloane when I am notoriously not really hard on anyone, it might be cause for concern and conversations.

Rowan:

You sure? Nothing you want to tell me? You know I have your back, right?

Me:

I know and no, nothing. I’m good. Just tired. It's been a long week.

Rowan:

You home?

Me:

Yeah

Rowan:

Want to come over? Ellie made chili.

I stare at his text for a minute, actually contemplating it before I decide against it because the last thing I wanted was to bring anyone down, and I still wasn’t in the best mood.

Me:

Can you send some over via a courier service?

Rowan:

Lol, Margot went out.

Me:

Damn

Rowan:

Just come over. Don’t sit over there and sulk.

Me:

I am not sulking.