Page 132 of Pinkie Promise

“What’s the song?” I ask, not taking my eyes off of Fallon as her teammates spring her upwards, making my heart jump to my throat. She swings into the next cheer basket, this time landing on one leg, her other one perfectly straight at a one-hundred-and-eighty degree angle. I get an eyeful of the little cheer panty-shorts that she wears under her skirt and my dick goes from semi hard to fully erect.

Great.

“Something by Taylor Swift, I’ll add it to the group Spotify,” he mumbles, his tongue practically hanging out of his damn mouth.

The commentator on the speakers brings our attention back to the countdown, and my adrenaline thunders in time with the increasing tempo of the music as he announces that there’s thirty seconds until the players will be on the ice.

Can’t deny that the team has never been so pumped, every one of us agitated and itching to do some damage.

Just as the song pounds faster towards the imminent final chorus I see Fallon’s teammates throw her up into the air. She does so many twists that I can’t even count them, but I recognise the move because she had me try it with her one time.

Fallon lands in their hands on her feet, and then the girls holding her grip each of her ankles. They toss her again, a straight vertical throw this time, and instead of catching her on her feet again they move like a wave on either side of her, helping her drop into the cleanest horizontal split that I’ve ever seen in my life.

My jaw borderline dislocates.

But without waiting a single second, the chorus flares to life at the exact same moment that Fallon back-flips like an Olympic athlete straight into a second cheer pyramid stationed behind her, where she lands on her feet, kicks one leg in the air, and smiles the most enchanting smile that I’ve ever seen.She stretches her arms out at her sides, fully completing their pyramid.

The buzzer sounds overhead and suddenly both team gates are opened, players instantly swarming onto the ice to do one minute of protocol and warming up before the real game begins.

But I’m immediately skating to the other side of the rink where Fallon’s teammates are already lowering her down. They collect their pom-poms and then they’re getting ushered into the stands so that they can watch their guys win them the championship.

“Fallon!” I bellow, rapping my glove against the clear wall between us as her team steers her in an excited frenzy towards the seats.

The second that she turns around to look at me, her cheeks pink with exertion, I’m shouting, “I’m gonna explain everything, baby, I just have a game to win first, okay?”

I don’t know what I expected but it definitely isn’t what I get.

She wriggles her way out of the arms of the campus security and she runs right up to the board, pressing her hands against the glass, jumping up onto her tiptoes, and then giving the wall that separates us the biggest kiss that she can.

I align my gloves with her hands and drop my forehead down to hers.

“It’s okay!” she shouts, but she’s already being forced back to the rest of the audience, making my blood about boil as I see campus security put their hands on her. “Everything’s okay, I promise!”

Then she whips her ponytail around to her front and turns her back to me before looking over her shoulder.

My eyes drop to the back of her cheer top and my heart misses a beat.

I rub my glove around the back of my neck as my cheeks grow red, but I manage to give her a grateful smile before she’s fully out of sight.

Because there on the back of her top is a big number 9.

Chapter 33

Fallon

There are twenty cheerleaders crammed into the front row beside the Carter U player’s box, screaming at the top of their lungs as the third and final period of the game begins, and pounding their palms against the boards as the Rangers burst their way back onto the rink. My heart thunders wildly as the puck flies across the ice, the Rangers weaving it fast and furiously around the Michigan players until all of the guys are crowding around the goal, trying to slap it under the goalie’s shields. It takes a lot of braced thighs and shoulder shoving but, after Hunter’s roommate Caden flicks it to Tanner, Tanner smashes it into the top corner.

The giant scoreboard dings as the number 5 turns into a 6, and the crowd goes crazy, knowing how hard it will be for Michigan to catch up when Carter U is four points ahead of them.

Tanner didn’t play during the first and second periods and now that he’s being smothered with love by his teammates I can see why. Even as he claps them back I can see the strain on his face, the way that he’s holding his body at a slight angle as he limps back into position.

Tanner’s obviously still recovering from an injury but with the prospect of winning the NCAA tournament within reach no way is he going to miss the chance to be a part of it.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” Aisling says, her face blanched of all colour and her eyebrows arched high. Ash is the only cheerleader who isn’t wearing their cheer outfit, due to the fact that she’s on the comp team, not the events team, so she didn’t take part in our home-pride pre-game performance just now.

The fact that she decided to come anyway has me peeking over to her with curious eyes and a little knowing smile.

In the second period Hunter scored his second goal of the game and the crowd went crazy as he threw his stick down and raced across the ice.

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