Page 44 of Make Me Pretty
The girls around me chatter excitedly as I pull my phone out of my pocket, my smirk widening when I open my photos app. Someone peers over my shoulder so I curl over against the light beaming through the window, arm snaking around the side.
When my eyes adjust, the three selfies I took in the mirror the other night reflect back at me. The lighting is awful—fucking fluorescents—but there’s no mistaking the glare of cum streaked across my lower face and torso. My baggy jeans are cinched tight around my narrow waist, my crotch obviously wet from where I came, the tiniest peek of my pink boxers beneath as well as a peek of my scuffed Converse untied with the laces dragging on the floor.
Holding my breath, feeling the rush of my heart racing in my throat, I forward all three pictures to Peris—triple checking it is, in fact, his name and number I’m sending them to because nothing would be worse than accidentally sexting my foster mom.
Nope, no thanks. I’d rather chuck myself right under a moving car.
The second I hear the whoosh of them being sent, followed by a delivered mark, I switch my phone to silent and pocket it again just as the cheer coach walks into the room.
“First day of practice! You all know what this means. Let’s pass up order forms for uniforms. We want to get these in as soon as possible. They’re the new design this year.” The rustle of papers fills the room, voices slowing to a mild chatter. I stand awkwardly with my hands in my pockets, shoulders to my ears.
Sierra, the girl from my algebra class, glances over at me before grabbing my elbow and dragging me to the front of the room. “Ms. B.”
“Yes, Sierra?” Ms. Barlowe says without looking up from her clipboard.
“Abel wants to know if it’s too late to join the squad?”
“Abel, what?” she says, peering up through her lens. I feel properly watched as her eyes bat back and forth between mine. I straighten my spine and jut my chin out, refusing to be intimidated, but her next words surprise me. “Oh, absolutely! I’ve always wanted to have a boy on the squad, but no one’s ever given it a chance. Do you have any experience—Oh!” Her lips form a perfect “O” as her hand flies to her mouth.
Sierra and I share a look, to which she just shrugs. “I’m so sorry, Abel. I didn’t mean to assume—your pronouns. What are they?”
My face cracks into a wide smile, warmth blooming in my chest. I like this woman.
“He/him, ma’am. Thank you for asking. I really would love to join the squad. I’ve always wanted to cheer, but I’ve moved around too much, so I don’t have any experience. If that’s an issue, it’s okay. I’ll?—”
“Nonsense. Anyone and everyone can join. I’ll just have,mmm—Sierra, are you okay to work with Abel individually on some of the standard cheers, just to get him up to speed?” Sierranods, hands clasped behind her back. “All right, good. Here, Abel. You take this; get it filled out and brought back to me tomorrow. For today, you can just watch practice to see how we do things, join in if you care to, and then tomorrow, we’ll go from there. Sound okay?”
“Yeah, thanks.” I take the paper from her hand, eyes immediately catching on the dollar amount for uniforms. I wince, digging my fingers into my temple as I walk away.
“Try not to worry about it. Ms. B is really good at working it out with?—”
“I’m not,” I snap back, a little too sharply. To ease the sting, I smile. “It’s all good.” I shove the paper into my bag as everyone files out of the room, heading for the gym.
“In the fall, we practice outside or in the wrestling room, but for winter cheer, it’s usually in the gym. Only place with enough room for kicks and shit,” Sierra tells me on the way. I nod, only half listening because my heart is currently hammering at the speed of a hummingbird’s.
The heavy gym doors creak open as everyone files into the gymnasium. The sound of rubber soles squeaking on the floor spills out, sharp in my ears. I hold the door open, gaze locked firmly on that slim, muscular body I am now intimately familiar with.
Peris’s brown hair hangs in front of his face, swaying with his movement, eyes never straying from the path of the ball. Thick, calloused fingers wrap around his knees as he bends over, thick lips parted with heavy breaths. He blows air up from between his lips, moving his hair, only for it to fall back into place.
I feel myself smiling—which is exactly how he catches me.
The moment our gazes lock, his pointed, concentrated stare morphs into something akin to liquid fire. And Iknowit’s not a good thing, but my brain chemicals simply do not care. They screamhot hot hot, fuck me please,over and over.
Peris makes me want tobeg.
It’s quite… inconvenient when I have aplan.
I lift my hand in a small wave, murmuring a silent hello and relishing in his cute, confused stare. When the door clangs shut behind me and I join the group, overtly aware of his eyes following me, the coach’s whistle blares out.
“Yep, you can see cheer practice has started.” Whoops and hollers ring out. “Yeah, yeah, shut it,” the coach chastises. “We’re here to practice, not to stare. So, keep your head in it or you’ll run laps till you puke. All right!” He blows his whistle, effectively breaking up the chatter.
Some dude I’ve seen around Peris before walks up to him, dark eyes flicking between me and the floor as he whispers in Peris’s ear. The muscles in Peris’s jaw flutter as he grinds his teeth, hands clenching into fists before he stretches his fingers wide.
After a sharp nod, the guy pulls away. “Who’s that?” I lean back and turn my head slightly, not asking anyone in particular.
“Who, Peris? I thought?—”
I shake my head. “No, not Peris. The other dude.”
