Page 128 of Against The Rules

“I saw the article, and figured you needed a friend.” She stands up and holds her arms out, and I run into them, crying even harder. “Was it you?”

“Ugh,” is all I say at first. “It doesn’t matter who it was.”

Great, I’m a traitor and a liar. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Tyler what I’d been up to with Kelsey, and now I’m lying to my oldest friend.

“Is it really true?” She smooths my hair out of my face. “All the stuff she wrote? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because if I didn’t… if I didn’t talk about it, maybe it wasn’t so bad. Maybe it wasn’t what I thought.”

“Sav,” she says, a note of reprimand in her voice. “You should quit.”

“My mom would be so mad at me.”

“No, she wouldn’t. And if it’s making you this upset, is it worth it?”

It’s my fault I’m upset, I want to tell her. I did this to myself. If I hadn’t gotten mad at Rebecca and married Tyler and made all of these bad choices, I wouldn’t be freaking out right now.

“How many more games this season?” The question is quiet. “Can you handle it?”

She knows. She knows I’m the anonymous source.

“How did you know it was me?” I ask, tilting my head at her. My fake lashes are falling down, and I rip them off, one after another.

“One of the quotes. I can’t remember which now. Something about draconian rules.” A small laugh comes out of her. “I think you said the same thing to me once, when you were pissed, one of the few times you ever complained about cheer.”

“Will everyone else know?”

“Do you regret it?” she asks instead, handing me a tissue and one of the mugs of tea.

I straighten my shoulders, sucking back the last of my pity party.

“I regret that I blindsided my team.” The tea scalds my tongue, but I keep drinking it, just to give myself something to do. My tongue’s gotten me into enough trouble lately.

“But?” She draws the word out long.

“But if it helps one other dancer, if it helps change things, then fuck no. Then fuck no, I don’t regret it.” It comes out vehemently, surprising us both.

We blink at each other for a second.

“You rule-breaker.” Presley shakes her head, laughing. “Good for you.”

I sink onto the couch, clutching my mug to my chest. “How am I going to get through the rest of the season?”

“How many games are left?” Presley asks again, sitting on the couch next to me and tucking her legs underneath herself. “Two home games? It doesn’t look like you are heading to playoffs.”

I frown at her. “Since when do you follow football?”

“Since one of my new PR clients is on the team.”

“What? Who?”

“Rhett Edwards. He’s a real piece of work, too, in my professional opinion.”

I shrug a shoulder. “I’ve never met him.”

“Two games. A month-ish more of practice. You can do this.” She blows on her mug of tea, sending steam scattering. “Unless, of course, you don’t want to.”

“I can’t quit.”

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