Page 77 of Make Me Pretty
PERIS
I can’t seethrough the sweat dripping into my eyes. My heart is hammering away in my ears, timed erratically to the digital clock counting down on the scoreboard—seven minutes left in the second half.
Seven minutes and we’re down by twelve.
I can’t stop the dart of my eyes toward the two red, glowing numbers. It twitches when Jordan saunters into my peripheral, always on my fucking ass.
“This is all you’ve got, Baxter? Kinda pathetic, if you ask me. That twelve is only gonna get higher.”
“It’s a good thing I didn’t fucking ask you,” I mutter, ignoring the rest while my eyes never stray from those numbers. Except they do. They drop to the pretty little cheerleader standing just below, shaking his pom poms, thick, purple-painted lips spread wide as he chants another cheer.
His hair is different, pulled away from his face in two braids on either side of his head. The hair exposed is shaved close to his scalp, cropped into white, choppy strands. My fingers twitch to feel them. To know if they’re soft or spiky.
Abel’s eyes dart to me, dark, silver orbs in a sea of blurry purple. His mouth twists in that lopsided way, showcasing tworows of crooked teeth. The tip of his tongue skims the snaggle tooth that finds a home in mine with every kiss.
And then, his lips pucker in a kiss that finds its way inside my chest, where it flutters alongside the disastrous hunk of muscle. My eyes narrow, feeling the gaze of hundreds on me, but all I see is Abel.
He shimmies his hips, and the two-piece of that fuckingoutfitreveals a strip of skin on his abdomen. The dark blonde hair of his happy trail peeks through, a promise of what’s at the end if I follow it.
“Cat got your tongue?” Jordan sneers beside me.
My eyelids flutter as my eyes roll into the back of my head. Jordan Bates, the only fucking man in the state that could steal everything I’ve worked so hard for. The muscles in my arms tense as he leans in, smelling of sweat and desperation.
I’m sure I reek of the same.
We’re overtly aware of the ability of the other. As much of a prick as he is, he’s got a real shot at the scholarship we’re both vying for—and this is the game that will truly determine it all.
And I’m fucking it all up because Abel is juststandingthere with the other cheerleaders, waving his arms, shaking those fucking pom poms, cheeringmeon. Because I fucking hear that raspy little voice through the crowds shouting my number.
Go number three! You’ve got this!
Damn it all to hell.
“No, Bates. I just can’t stand being in the same vicinity as you,” I respond dryly, a few seconds too late. The refs blow their whistles, signaling a timeout. I push against my knees to my full height and jog over toward Coach with the rest of the team.
I watch Coach Johnson’s lips move, but the sound doesn’t carry past the rush of blood in my ears. Heat burns its way up my neck and across my face.
“Dude, your mom is waving at us,” Gabe murmurs. My head jerks in the direction of his finger, finding Ma exactly how I pictured her. She’s wearing the same school shirt she wears to every game, and when she notices I’ve seen her, she jumps to her feet, arms raised in the air. A loud, “Whoop,” follows, making me shake my head, but my smile still breaks free.
“Baxter, Avalos, are either of you listening to me?!” Coach belts.
“Yes, sorry,” we parrot in unison. Beneath his sweaty glare, my head drops between my shoulders. I’m painfully aware of the droplets of sweat trickling down my spine as Coach goes into the game plan for the last few minutes, switching up a few of the plays.
I narrow my gaze at the shiny, brown floor beneath my purple and black shoes until it blurs and I’m hyperaware of the voices around me—Coach’s heavy timbre and the follow-ups from my teammates.
When Johnson nods, satisfied we’re all on board, he taps his clipboard against the heel of his palm, dark eyes narrowed in his general, focused manner. “Peris,” he says as everyone disperses to grab a quick drink.
“Yeah?”
“You’ve got this? I know you need that scholarship. You’ve been busting your ass, but Jordan has been too, it seems.”
My molars slam together. Great, so everyone’s noticed how much better he is. “I know.”
“I’m not saying that to bust your balls but to kick your ass in gear. You’re distracted.”
I’m really gonna need everyone to quit paying such close attention to me.“I’m not trying to be.”
“Obviously not, but you are. What’s going on? You’ve never given the cheerleaders a second glance before.”
