Page 6 of Against The Rules

BEAVER CHEER RULEBOOK

Representing An AFL Team

Cheerleaders represent the Organization, and as such, are the faces and symbols of what the Organization stands for. Cheerleaders should strive to uphold the highest level of personal grooming and appearance, as well as be circumspect and without reproach in their behavior.

In Uniform:

All cheerleaders must wear the uniform correctly, without addendum or illegal alteration to the uniform once it is given to them by the Organization.

Cheerleaders must wear the prescribed makeup and hair, as denoted by their welcome packet, per their director.

All jewelry must be approved and part of the uniform.

Nail polish must be a natural shade and not distracting, or cheerleaders will be asked to remove it before game day.

Cheerleaders must use approved feminine hygiene products, such as tampons or menstrual cups, while in uniform. Please refer to the addendum for assistance on proper use of feminine hygiene products.

CHAPTER 4

SAVANNAH

“What’s Ty short for, anyway?” I ask, slurring slightly… okay, more than slightly. There’s something familiar about him.

Or maybe that’s just the four rounds of shots and five drinks we’ve polished off. Now? Now we’re practically best friends. Besties.

“Tiger. Bowtie. Tyrannosaurus Rex?” I guess.

He laughs uproariously, loosening the top button on his shirt. His jacket’s long been shucked, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showcasing tanned and muscled forearms that make my heart beat a little bit quicker.

“Tyler. Matthews.”

My mouth twists to the side, my brain stumbling. That name is familiar… but the moment I try to hang onto why, to how I know his name, his face—he gives me that grin, and my train of thought firmly derails.

Dimples, apparently, are all it takes for my gray matter to sit up and say, what?

And shots. Those, too.

He nudges me with his hand, a playful touch that shouldn’t send a shockwave of pure heat racing through me, and I blink up at him.

“Not Tiger or Bowtie, but not too bad, right?”

“Tyler is very normal. Acceptable.” I nod, trying to wink at him, but only succeed in blinking very slowly.

He tips his head back and laughs, and the sound of it makes me feel even drunker. Even better. Happy.

“Acceptable, huh? Can’t say that’s a sparkling recommendation for my mom’s naming abilities.”

I wave my hand, choking on a laugh of my own. “No, no, I didn’t mean that.”

His eyes lock on mine, his dimples fading out. “I know you didn’t, Savannah.”

My name is a gentle caress on his lips, low and strong, spoken like a promise. A shiver runs down my spine, and I cross my legs, suddenly aching.

Maybe I should slow down on the drinks. I push my glass away, only to notice it’s empty.

Right.

That’s all this is. Vegas and alcohol-fueled attraction.

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