Page 118 of Hide and Keep

“Four.”

“Okay. All right.” I adjust my hat. “Well, uh, if you see me covering my eyes, no you didn’t.”

She shakes her head, a much smaller smile appearing as she teases, “You watch scary movies through your fingers, too, Major?”

“Something like that.” Nothing like that. I don’t have a problem watching other people get torn to shreds, but Ever? I don’t want to watch her so much as break a goddamn nail.

Maybe it’s because I do think she’s too prim and proper and prissy. Or maybe it’s because I want that million dollars. I don’t know what the exact reason is but I do know I’ve never felt like my heart was outside my body until I saw Ever up there. If I don’t watch her doing baskets, hopefully it won’t feel like that at all.

Practice resumes, everyone doing what looks like half-assed motions through something that resembles a routine, not a championship-winning routine in my opinion, but… What do I know? I just learned what a basket is. Kind of.

A few more run-throughs, then the team’s filing onto the main stage. I find a spot off to the side of the front to stand and watch.

While the team’s simultaneously hyping the crowd and getting into position, Ever says something to Kota, sending her friend over to relay the message to Eighmey. Arms down, smile bright, Eighmey books it to the opposite side of the stage, unconcealed confusion on her face when others shoot her questioning looks. They all bounce and wave, only earning a smattering of applause from the half-interested audience.

Talk about embarrassing.

I clap and whistle extra loud.

I don’t know how Ever finds me so quickly but our eyes connect for the briefest of moments.

For the first time in eight years, all the other looks in my direction don’t bother me. And surprisingly, neither do the whispers.

The music starts, the Perplexus remix of “Poison” by Rita Ora pouring from the speakers. The beat drops, sending the first staggered row into back handsprings toward the rear of the stage. Fifteen seconds later, a second row follows. A few seconds after that, another, until the whole stage is in motion—synchronized twists, jumps, and backflips—nothing like what they did during practice. With so many legs and arms and hair—so much fucking hair—it’s hard to focus on any one individual. At the thirty-second mark, flyers take flight, then there’re bodies everywhere—on the ground, in the air, everyone moving, everyone doing something different.

Any time I catch sight of Ever, I try my best to track her, not really giving a shit about anyone else up there, but it’s too fast, too chaotic, and I keep losing her.

My feet inch forward as they set up in the formation for baskets. I know I said I wasn’t gonna look but I literally can’ttake my eyes off the middle one, hoping to fucking God it’s Ever’s. That’s where the top girl should be, right?

I rip my hat off to see better, not even thinking about my scar, only Ever. Where’s Ever?

Someone moves and I catch her black hair being bounced around in the middle of three guys.

Boom, boom.Two baskets thrown—one on each side—then Ever’s, and hers is so much higher than the others. Jesus fucking Christ, they launched her ass up there like a rocket going to space.

Boom, boom.The first two baskets land, leaving Ever up there by herself.

I swear the couple seconds she’s twirling stretches out to minutes, hours…

Fuck, when is she coming back down?

Then suddenly,boom,and I can breathe again.

Barely.

One down. Three to go.

Some shuffling takes place, then Nathen’s got Ever in a handstand over his head. They hold briefly before she flips into standing on his hands. Two other guys come over to help or spot, I’m not sure, and she starts switching from one leg to the other, posing in different ways. She’s just as graceful as a ballerina, except instead of dancing across a floor, she’s doing it on two motherfucking palms.

The fucking talent, the technique, the strength. Her legs haven’t trembled once. She’s a beast, a monster, an athlete, and I can admit I stand fucking corrected. Cheerleading’s a sport. No way some slob looking to add an extracurricular to their transcript could just sign up and do this shit. This is hard work and dedication right here.

With one foot held up above her head, Ever releases it and falls into the splits. All three guys catch different parts of herbody—one on each leg and one in the middle getting a handful of…pussy. The skirts the girls are wearing are basically belts, flipped up from being in constant motion, their orange briefs beneath on full display the whole time, so it’s easy to see what is quite clearly a hand on my protectee’s pussy.

They’re already preparing for another basket, hands moving so fast I can no longer tell who’s grabbing what.

Flyers go up all at once and they come right back down.

Two down. Two to go.

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