Storm, Meet Raine

A Peek Into Sportsmanship.

Give me your thoughts.
___

HIM.

"Why don't you meet me in the showers after our game, and then we can discuss business." My eyes cast down to her chest that's sitting high because of her sports bra.

Cheerleaders are the best in bed.

"Why can't we go right now?" She slides her hands up my chest, biting her lip seductively. I grin as I look down on her, placing my hands on top of hers. Her eyes move from my lips to the dimple on my left cheek before quickly darting to the right one.

Gets them every time.

"Because I don't fuck before my games." I tell her seriously, but keeping my eyes light-hearted. Yes, I have game. How else do you think I don't have jealous girls sending me hate mail? I give all of them my love.

Unless they piss me off.

"Can't you make an exception for me?" She bats her false eyelashes—protocol for all competition cheer teams, I would assume. I find it funny when they sweat them out whenever we have sex.

"All girls wait after the game, my little harlot." I grin even wider when she giggles at the nickname.

"Why do you always call me that?" She plays with the hair at the nape of my neck, making me sort of cringe. I think I'm just sensitive there now because not long ago, one girl clawed me from the back of my neck, downward and it's never felt the same.

One of the guys, Hunter (my best friend), told me that I had a scar there and it probably wouldn't leave any time soon. I pull her hands back down to my chest after brushing my lips against her knuckles.

Her knees buckle.

"Storm!" Gardner, our coach, yells at me from down the hallway. "Stop pussyfooting, and get your ass outside and changed for warmups!"

"You got it, boss man!" I call back and he gives me a thumbs up. My eyes widen, knowing that he's going to destroy me at some point today. Since coach is so hard on us, he's gotten good at being discreet about how bad he actually is.

He comes up with these gestures and looks that will seem so encouraging to any outsider, but the entire team knows the true meaning of them. A thumbs up is never a good sign. If you're doing a damn good job, and he actually means it, he'll verbalize it. Never a gesture.

I look down at the girl whose name is Cherelle, by the cursive name written on the left side of her cheer jacket, and I give her a quick kiss on the cheek before sprinting to the locker room.

     When I reach outside, coach tells us that we have to run five miles, before we'll all come back and stretch, but then he blows his whistle once, stopping us all.

     Everyone looks at him in confusion, but he just grins sadistically at us. I curse under my breath when he calls me out. "Saw Storm cozying up with a cheerleader not too long ago."

     I roll my eyes when the whole team (Carter included) 'oohs' and 'ohs' at me. I flip Hunter off because he deserves it. He was talking to one yesterday, too! He actually hooked up with her.

     "Got any plans tonight, boy?" He raises a brow at me, a knowing smirk on his face. He's young. For fuck's sake he graduated a year ago. We played baseball together for three years. He's only 24, and I know all that time he spends in his office, he's slumming it with some other college girls around campus.

     "Yes, in fact, I do." I give him a look that shows him how serious I am. After we kick some serious ass today, I need somebody to celebrate with. And no, I'm not going to the casino like we do every year.