Page 45 of Against The Rules

“Is everything about winning with you two?”

“Yes,” they say at the same time.

Sheesh. No wonder Tyler’s been so stressed about his family. I shake my head, but don’t say anything else. Despite my little adrenaline-fueled outburst, I don’t really like confrontation.

“Sorry I yelled at you,” I tell Jacob sheepishly.

“Nah, don’t apologize,” Tyler tells me. “It’s good for him.”

“I might have deserved it,” Jacob says. “Still doesn’t mean I approve of you two lying about all this.”

“No one asked for your blessing,” I say tartly. Damn, maybe I should have laid off the coffee. Gravel crunches underfoot on the walking trail, and I wince at my own asshole attitude.

What has gotten into me today?

“So the house is on five acres,” Jacob says.

Tyler slips his hand away from my waist, and I immediately miss the comforting weight. A glance back tells me we’re far enough from the house now that his parents can’t see us, though. Sadness steals over me, worrisome and weird.

Why should I care if he doesn’t want to hold me like that? We’ve very much established this is just… temporary. I swallow, pushing a stray hair out of my eyes. That kiss he gave me… the kiss I haven’t been able to stop thinking about—it was just him trying to hold up his end of the bargain with teaching me to be sexy.

It’s not real. I shouldn’t delude myself into thinking it is.

A pang goes through my chest, and I rub my collarbone absentmindedly. Birds trill in the trees above, and a few late-summer butterflies wing through the air.

“It’s really pretty here.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Tyler says, and even Jacob grins at me over his shoulder.

“You two work hard for it.”

“How much do cheerleaders make?” Jacob asks, and it’s such a random question that I can’t help letting out a laugh.

“Oh, you know, fifteen dollars an hour.”

Jacob stops so fast I nearly run into his back. “What?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not a full-time job. It’s a privilege to make the team—”

“They only pay you fifteen dollars an hour?” Tyler asks, seemingly just as surprised as Jacob by this.

“Well, yeah, and you know, we’re supposed to sell the calendars, and we can keep whatever profit we make after we buy them from the team at cost—”

“Hold on.”

Both men are staring at me, twin expressions of incredulity on their faces, and I glance between them, bemused. “What?”

“They make you buy the calendars… and then you sell them?”

“It’s not a big deal,” I say, somewhat defensively. “It’s just part of the gig.”

“And how many times a week do you practice?” Tyler asks.

“At least three nights a week, but you know, we’re expected to know and practice the choreography on our own time, then there are appearances…”

I drift off, all too aware of both of them gaping at me.

“When do you get to the stadium on game day?”

---