Page 33 of The Rivals' Touch

“You’re fucking useless!” Legacy growls, arms crossed as I struggle to load the mid-baser. The poor girl comes tumbling down.

After I help her up, I put my hands on my hips and tell Legacy, “What did you expect? I’m a flyer! Not a base. We can do this all fucking day, but it’s not going to get any better.”

“Fine! You can be a third.”

I laugh incredulously and cross my arms. “You’re making me a spotter?”

Legacy rolls her eyes and gathers the girls around to perform another pyramid. “Well, you’re clearly not good enough to be a base.”

I throw my arms out. “I’m a flyer! What part of that don’t you get?”

One brave girl clears her throat. “Maybe we should let her be a flyer. We need another since Beverly broke h—”

Legacy cuts her off with a look, then walks over to me. “I make the rules here, Remi,” she spits. The door opens, and the basketball team walks inside the gym for their practice.

“I’ve seen you cheer, Legacy. It’s nothing special.”

She starts to retort but spots Zayd approaching and plasters on a fake smile as he saunters up to us in his jersey. “Hi, baby. Remi was just telling me how excited she is to be the back spotter.”

Zayd flicks his hair out of his eyes and wraps his arm around her waist. I glance at Jacob, who smirks knowingly and winks at me as he walks past.

I flip him off.

“A spotter? I find that hard to believe. I’ve watched her cheer. She’s a flyer, babe.”

Legacy flattens her hand over his chest. “We don’t need another flyer.”

He lets her go to catch the basketball Jacob throws him. “Put your claws away, Legacy. I expect to see her at the top of the pyramid at our next game. Make her do one of those heel stretches.” He flashes a grin before walking away, tossing the ball to one of his teammates.

I quirk a brow at Legacy, secretly pleased. I don’t want to cheer for Aycliffe, but it’s hard not to feel triumphant at the displeased look on her face. She’s fighting hard not to screech like a banshee.

“This isn’t over!” she sneers, grabbing her water bottle off the floor before storming out.

“Remi!” Zayd shouts, hitching his thumb over his shoulder at the bleachers behind him. “Sit down and watch the practice.”

I curse myself for checking out his muscular arms in that jersey. “Go to hell, Zayd!”

His teammates laugh. Unfazed, he looks amused as he runs backward, catching the basketball in midair. “I love it when you talk dirty to me, baby!” He turns, dribbles the ball past the defense, and shoots.

Of course he scores. His smug grin should annoy me, but I find myself smiling as I take a seat. I have nowhere else to be, and Zayd is my lift home. I can either sit here, or aimlessly walk the empty corridors while waiting.

“Hi,” a small voice says as I root through my bag for my phone.

I look up. It’s one of the cheerleaders, Abigail. She has big green eyes and an adorable smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose. She’s naturally pretty, and doesn’t use hair extensions, fake lashes, or makeup.

She tucks a loose strand of her amber hair behind her ear and says shyly, “I’ve watched you cheer for Hedgewood. You’re good!”

“Thanks?” I’m unsure why she’s talking to me, which makes me wary.

She gestures next to me on the bench. “Mind if I sit down?”

I shake my head and move my bag. “Of course not.”

Her flowery perfume permeates the air as she plops down next to me. “I’m Abigail.”

“Remi.”

She watches the boys do drills, then says, “Legacy is a bitch, but don’t let her get to you.”

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