Page 68 of Hide and Keep

“Probably helps you fit in dresses without trying them on, too.”

“What are you talking about?” Ever asks between bites.

“You didn’t try on any dresses today.”

“Yeah, I know. So?”

“You told your dad you bought one.”

“Oh, that dress. I special ordered it.”

That explains why I didn’t see it and why she feels so strongly about wearing it…but not why she just forgot all about it.

“Without getting fitted?”

She waves me off. “Thierry has my measurements on file.”

“They don’t change?”

“Not really. I have to walk around at a hundred pounds or less all the time.”

“A hundred fucking pounds? Just to look good in your uniform?”

“It has nothing to do with that. At least not for me. Flyers have to worry about the amount of weight we’re putting on our base’s wrists.”

“What’s a base?” She went over the different kinds of teams with me but not the positions on those teams.

“Have you ever seen cheerleaders perform?”

“Yeah. Everyone has.”

“No, I mean really watch them.”

“I’ve watched them do their high kicks and—”

“Oh my Goddess. You mean you glanced over at them on the sidelines throughout sports games. Let me guess, to look up their skirts, right?”

I shrug. “Maybe. I don’t know.”I definitely do because I definitely did.“Look, boobs. Belly buttons. Short skirts. Pom-poms. Clapping. Shouting chants. That’s what comes to mind when I think of cheerleaders. I don’t know anything about flying or bases.”

“That’s like saying all wrestlers do is lie on top of each other.”

“That’s mostly what we do.” We? “But they’re not just lying there,” I say, taking myself out of the equation. I haven’t been a wrestler in a long time. “They’re working simultaneously to get a pin and to not be pinned.”

She eyes me another moment.

“Well, that’s not all we’re doing either.”

“Really?”

“Clapping, shouting, and short skirts, yes. The rest, no.”

“No boobs?”

“Some girls have those, but I don’t. Most flyers don’t. Our body fat’s too low.”

My eyes find her chest. She’s got enough to fit my mouth around.

Jesus. I stuff a potato in that mouth, making damn sure I don’t moan out loud because I could. I swear to God the inside is as fluffy as a cloud.

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