Page 13 of The Masks We Wear

“Remy,” she clips, in need to correct me.

Instead of talking, already having used too many words, I roll my neck and lean back. Thankfully, she gets the hint, turning on her heels and saunters to the front, leaving an odd energy in her wake. It’s unsettling that she knows, but the way her voice wavered just now says she’s at least unnerved by me. That’s something–means she can be frightened into silence if need be.

But the whole encounter goes to show, Spencer can’t keep a secret. Rule two from a contract we once made. The penalty was a punch to the gut, if I recall.

I run my tongue over my top teeth, tugging on my necklace until it pinches the skin. My stomach is hollow, and instead of a flutter, it feels like a snake is swirling around the organs, making me nauseous.

I wonder what else he’s told her.

Finally, I grab my phone with one hand and massage the knot in my neck with the other. I swallow down the bile and type.

Me: I need a stress reliever.

I don’t have to wait long for a response.

Blaze: Say less.

“AGAIN!”I screech across the field, throwing my water bottle on the ground.

We’ve been at practice too damn long for the counts to still bethisoff. We only have a few minutes before we need to clear out and get ready for the game, and these girls are nowhere near ready. This is exactly why we’ve already started practicing for regionals. They’re fumbling on top of one another, missing beats, and pissing me off with their lack of determination. And if there’s one thing I hate more than a clumsy cheerleader, it’s a lazy one.

I’ve lost countless amounts of sleep in order to perfect a routine before. I would eat, sleep, and breathe the damn counts until Blaze forced me to rest, and even then, I was watching videos of practice. I’ve worked hard, still do. I am proof that no matter what anyone tells you, you can do anything you set your mind to. Not only that, but excel, and be the best there ever was.

Make them envy you. Remember you.

Amora’s blue eyes narrow in on me, her chest heaving as she rallies the girls. “Let’s go bitches! Pull your head out of your ass and do it right so we can fucking go!”

There’s a chance I may also just be projecting, but I don’t really care. The sickness from earlier has yet to subside, and I can’t focus. My insides are rolling, and every few minutes, I have to swallow down the bitter bile.

That girl, Remy, could serve as an entirely different issue. First, I’m irritated that I don’t know the nature of their relationship. I mean, considering he was about to be balls deep inside of me last week, it can’t be too serious. But her knowing what happened means they’re close enough that hetrustsher.

And that bothers me. It grates against my nerves, forcing me to be a little more sensitive than I should.

What makes her so visible when I was anything but?

“Tuck your fucking knees!” I instruct Stacy, tugging my ponytail down for the fifteenth time.

I need to figure out how much she knows about me. Find out just what mini Katherine Johnson might say to the wrong people, given a chance. My wheels begin to turn, just as Amora nails her landing.

“About fucking time!” I ignore the sighs of relief that echo through the girls. “Shower and be ready by six-thirty.”

I leave the field, not waiting for them to follow, and barrel into the locker room. I exhale a long breath when I see Blaze leaning against my locker, a white towel dangling from his index finger. His white T-shirt pulls across his chest then pools at his waist, where his own towel is tied. What kind of a guy showers before a game?

My broken little knight, that’s who.

Blaze has always had the weirdest quirks, most of which are tied to things he doesn’t even let me see. I may get the privilege to read more of him than others, but even I’m limited to specific chapters.

He tilts his head, brows raised. “Coming?”

Nodding, I accept the cotton towel and follow him to the showers—the private one at the end is already steaming. I throw Blaze a grin before stripping down and slipping inside, closing the curtain behind me.

“The party is set.” His smooth voice sounds over the crash of water in my ears.

The temperature is perfect, a few degrees before scalding, and it pounds into my muscles, relieving some of the tension from earlier. “I need another favor, B.”

I’m met with silence, so I continue. “There’s a girl I need to be there. I have a feeling she may know a little too much, and I can’t invite her myself.”

“Name.”

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