Page 67 of The Hallows Boys

I hum between my lips in thought, narrowing my eyes as well while I look at my friend. “Will you join with me?”

She laughs, throwing her head back. “You’re funny.”

I knew it was a longshot. Juliet is more rock ‘n’ roll and whiskey over pom poms and hair ribbons. “Okay, I’m going to do it,” I declare, slipping my hands through the straps of my backpack and grinning. “Wish me luck.”

She claps her hands once in front of her chest, then raises them in the air, sarcasm dripping from her tone. “Gooooo team!”

I laugh, rolling my eyes at her as I turn around and head for the gym. I loved cheer in California, and even though I’m embarking on thisnew town, new mejourney, I would love to get my ass into a uniform again and fly around in the sky. Just because Sage Lindman is dead, that doesn’t mean I can’t still enjoy the things that once made her happy, right?

As I pull out my phone, I’m thankful I only deleted the photos the other night and not the videos, and scroll through them as I walk through campus. Ifavoritesome of the best ones to show the coach, then push through the doors of the gym. I ignore some of the sour and curious looks from some of the girls that are stretching just inside the doors and continue toward the coach’s office at the back.

I knock on the door, and when a feminine voice calls out for me to come in, I turn the knob and poke my head in.

“Miss Lindman, I was wondering when you would show up at my door.” The coach greets me, standing up and rounding her desk to meet me halfway. Her light brown hair is twisted up in a messy bun, tendrils falling around her face. She’s young and pretty, and her smile makes me feel a little more welcome and confident to plead my case. “I’m Coach Steele. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You know who I am?” I smile back at her.

She turns, flipping through some papers on her desk before she pulls a couple out and turns back to me. “Your transcripts came across my desk. I saw you were on the cheer team at your old school.”

I’m not a cocky person, but my transcripts speak for themselves. As well as my intense academic rap sheet I was also the captain of the cheer squad, with multiple championships on my belt.

“I was the captain”—I point out—“and led our team to the national championships for the last two years.”

She smiles, and I return the gesture. “Do you have any videos?”

I hand her my phone, pressing play on the first video I have pulled up. As she watches, I listen to the cheering of the crowd, the music blasting through the stadium, and my faint voice in the background calling our cheers. It lifts some of the darkness from my shoulders.

Coach Steele watches the entire video, then hands the phone back to me. “Well, I’m impressed, Miss Lindman. You have your gym clothes?”

I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Go change and warm up. You’ll have to try out for the squad to see where we can put you.”

I smile big, nodding my head. “Of course, perfect. Thank you so much.”

I leave her office, quickly change my clothes in the locker room, and then sit down on the bench to stretch my legs a little. When I make my way back out into the gym, everyone has moved outside, bringing a smile to my lips. I’d much rather be outdoors in the warmth of the sun, so I push through the doors and walk out to the football field to join them.

Once I find a spot on the sidelines, I sit down on the grass and stretch some more. I’m rusty, and I can feel my hamstrings pulling tight when I try to touch my toes, which sends anxiety flooding through me. I’ll need to start hitting the gym again. I’ve gotten lazy since I arrived in Blackmore.

I know I won’t slide back into the role of squad captain, since they already have one, but the thought of starting right at the ground floor again makes me a little annoyed. I’m good at this, and hopefully the team sees that and puts me into a position I’ll excel at.

I’d be good as a flyer, but the thought of trusting these girls with catching me makes me a little nervous. I haven’t made any friends outside of Juliet, and the looks I got when I entered the gym earlier make it seem like they already have something against me. Maybe when they see I’m not going to come in and try to take over, they’ll warm up to me. At least, I hope.

I stand up, running through one of my old routines silently, the timing and eloquent footwork coming back naturally. I pull my leg straight up over my head, even as my hamstring pinches, and look out across the field to catch the football team barreling onto the grass. One player in particular stands out to me, his jersey stretched over his broad shoulders as he runs with the team. I let go of my foot, dropping my leg back to my side, watching him go.

The team huddles up, and he seems to gain the attention of every single player as he shouts into the sky. He’s so fucking laid-back, but still somehow commands and inspires the team to jump around and shout with him. He seems unworried, like he knows exactly what he’s doing, like he knows best out here.

The team splits into two after they all clap hands in the center of the circle, and Vinny leads his group to the edge of the field for a more intimate huddle. He claps someone on the top of the helmet while he speaks, pointing out across the field like he’s giving direction. He does the same with each guy, sending them running to their positions on the field.

Ah, so, quarterback, then? No wonder he’s so cool and confident.

He joins his team in formation, then the coach blows his whistle and they all start moving. He catches the ball, running backwards a few feet as he looks out to the endzone, seeing who he can throw the ball to. Then something in him shifts, and he starts running forward, dodging and weaving the players that try to stop him as he crosses yard after yard. Finally, someone is able to tackle him, taking him down like a weight.

His chest is shaking with laughter when he gets up, and he accepts pats on his helmet as he walks back to position.

I want to stand here and watch Vincent Donohue play football all damn day – the way he controls every single player on the field sends shock waves of lust through me. He adjusts the play, hyping his teammates up, and I find myself addicted to the vision of him dominating. He’s the commander out here, and I think even if Kaiden was here, he would still be in control.

“Sage?” Coach Steele calls, pulling my attention to where all the cheerleaders are seated in the grass. She smiles. “You ready?”

---