Page 6 of Unrivaled

But why?

I mean, she’s not the first person to dislike me on sight, but there’s usually a reason for it. My sister’s boyfriend, for example. He despised me the moment he laid eyes on me. But I never really held it against him—well, until he decided to use my sister against me a few months ago. But apparently that’s not something I’m allowed to be upset about anymore according to my sister. I’m the transfer student who stole his starting quarterback spot, though. I can’t say I wouldn’t hate him if the situation were reversed. Still. I wouldn’t go after his sister. That’s fucked up.

But what’s the deal with this chick? Is she a McAdam fangirl? If so, she should know he’s quite happily taken these days. By my sister. So maybe it’s spillover hatred for her?

Turning to Jackson, I nod my head in the direction we need to head and he falls in step beside me. “So who was that?”

Jackson glances back over his shoulder. “Oh, that was Tiffany.”

I wait a beat to see if he elaborates, but he doesn’t. Typical Jackson. “And? What’s the story there?”

He gives me a surprised look. “We have theatre together, and the professor assigned us to do a scene?”

“Oooh.” I grin at him and nudge him in the side with my elbow. “Is it a romantic scene? Do you have to kiss her? How’re you gonna handle working with a hot chick one-on-one like that?”

His normally tan cheeks turn red, the blush climbing all the way to the tips of his ears. At my snort, he gives me a hard shove. It doesn’t do much, though. I’m used to getting pushed around in the pocket, and even though Jackson isn’t much shorter than me, I outweigh him by a good fifty pounds. He’s bulked up some since August, but the coaches want to keep him light and lean to replace Martinez as the first string wide receiver next year.

Cackling, I shove him back, but not hard enough to make him stumble.

“No,” he eventually answers, his voice all exasperated sullenness. “It’s not a romantic scene, no I won’t be kissing her, and no, she’s not interested in me. I promise.”

Raising my eyebrows, I look at him. “And how would you know? I’ve seen chicks throw themselves at you all year long, and you’ve never paid any attention.”

He sighs heavily. “You guys all say that, but you’re reading way too much into it. Autumn—you know, the chick with purpley hair that’s around a lot?” At my nod, he continues. “She’s in our group too, but had to run off to class on the other side of campus. She tasked Tiffany with organizing our rehearsal times, so I was giving her my number and schedule so we can figure it out.”

“Ohhh, right. Okay. Just giving a hot chick your number. No big deal.”

Ears pink again, he shakes his head. “Shut the fuck up, man.”

With a laugh, I pull open the door to the athletics center and we walk in companionable silence to the locker room, where we part ways to change for our workout.

And that’s where it hits me—why I recognize Tiffany.

She was a cheerleader. Not for my school, but for our biggest rivals, Eastwood High. I think her dad was also the football coach?

Visions of her with her blonde hair in a high ponytail, curls spilling down to the nape of her neck, a white ribbon tied around it, wearing her navy, silver, and white Eastwood cheerleading uniform as she bounces around on the side of the football field, yelling out cheers.

I’d always thought she was hot in that untouchable, distant way. Firmly off limits, though, with her long-term boyfriend and all.

But then …

Then I’d crashed that Eastwood party with my friends because one of them was dating an Eastwood cheerleader. And there she’d been, standing in front of me like all my dreams come true, no boyfriend in sight.

My buddy Kurt saw me looking. “Heard she broke up with Vandermeer,” he muttered. “You gonna hit that?”

Instead of answering, I approached her. And yeah, yeah I did hit that. And I’d wanted more than a quick tumble in a back bedroom at a party. I asked for her number, but she left without giving it to me. And I never saw her at another party again.

I was bummed for a while. I kept an eye out for her for months. But then with prom and graduation and getting ready to go to Ohio, I decided it was probably for the best. I’d broken up with my last girlfriend over the summer, and it was better to leave entanglement free.

I wonder what she’s been up to the last few years … What’s she getting a degree in that she’s just now fulfilling her arts credit as a senior?

Why didn’t she give me her number that night all those years ago?

And why does she seem to hate me now?

CHAPTER TWO

Tiffany

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