🌹Rosalie🌹

Blueridge is unlike anything I have ever experienced. And no, I'm not talking about the cows. I'm talking all out, movie-style school spirit. I honestly thought this level of pep was a myth. The pep rally was completely insane, and if I'm being honest, thrilling.

From the band to the packed bleachers of students all dressed in school colors, to the announcement of the players and the chants that echoed the student body. Everything felt completely on another planet, and by some unrecognizable event, I was part of it.

We opened the pep rally with a cheer, my very first performance in uniform. It was unreal. The hype, the automatic adoration of the crowd, their unwavering encouragement and love for something that felt so rudimentary. But they ate up every word, rising from their seats and chanting along with us.

All of that ruckus is absolutely nothing compared to this very moment. The sun has nearly set and the lights around the stadium glisten. The stands are filled to complete capacity, standing room only now being filled. I've seen a few high school stadiums, but nothing compares to the sheer volume of this one. It's like they built it to hold the entire town, which I'm pretty sure is actually in attendance.

The band is already playing, the fans yelling, every noise echoes the hillside and the game has yet to even begin.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" Casey asks beside me.

"I can't believe this is real," I admit.

She smiles, her glistening eyes set on the gathering fans. "I know. And we actually get to cheer in front of it. Thank you for convincing me to try out. This is a dream."

I look away from the buzz of people and over to the one friend I've made in this tiny town. "You deserve to be here, Casey."

She looks back at me. "As do you. Even if you don't want to admit it." She smiles, nudging her shoulder with mine.

"Alright!" Genevieve shouts, clapping her hands two times to get our attention. "Time to line up. You know your positions. Smile, hold firm, and make sure our voices are heard over the crowd."

We all gather our pompoms and quickly shuffle over to the end of the field where the gates lead to the locker room. We spent the entirety of our afternoon painting a ridiculous sign that's sole purpose is to be torn apart by the players when they run out onto the field. It seems like a huge waste to me. Waste of paper and time.

We position the paper along the grass. When we hear the clinking of cleats on the cement, we jump into action. Genevieve makes her way to the front, her pompoms already waving to the crowd and hyping them up. A few of the girls anchor themselves as I take a breath and step up. Being the one lifted in the air was not something I was excited about, but according to the coach, I was the best fit for the spot.

Being lifted isn't new to me. I've been thrown around in ballet for years. But standing on the arms of a few girls I barely know while holding a paper sign that's about to be torn to shreds, carries a different weight.

Once in place, a couple of the girls hand me the corner of the sign. I lift up the blue and silver lettering while the girl across from me does the same. The crowd goes insane and I am left with a ridiculous smile. Pompoms are shaking around me, horns are sounding. Fans are on their feet, hands waving. My heart pounds with every passing beat.

The players round the corner and my head spins to catch a glimpse. They're running like a herd of cattle, uniformed in their mission. Though their helmets are in place, I catch Nolan at the front of the pack, the number twelve glistening across his chest. The team follows his lead as they gather in front of the sign.

It's then that my heart falls silent, as the team ducks their heads and Nolan begins to shout to them. They're all nodding their heads, some are bouncing on their toes, others swaying. Nolan just seems calm, in control. His team completely at his fingertips as he leads. I've never seen anything like it.

Nolan shouts, "What time is it?"

"Our time!" the entire team responds in perfect unison, like a hoard of well trained soldiers prepared for battle.

"What time?" he shouts even louder and a part of me is ready to shout back.

"Our time!" they yell in chorus, their voices rattling us all as they start jumping up and down. The girls begin yelling and somehow, I'm yelling right along with them, the adrenaline firing inside me.

With that, Nolan turns and in that small moment, his eyes catch mine. It's brief, the overwhelming high of the crowd buzzes around us both as that playful smirk dances across his mouth. He winks.

Cheer looks good on you, Red.

His words from earlier play across my eardrums, swirling across my chest. I laugh, shaking my head and aching to flip him off in the same playful manner as that smirk of his, but seeing as I'm holding the sign he's about to plow through, I resist.

He turns from my gaze, shouts something to his team and suddenly they're flying through the paper.

It wasn't a waste at all. The team is fired up and the crowd is even louder. They feed on the adrenaline, and their hunger is contagious. It's something indescribable and somehow I'm completely consumed.

I fly to the ground and grab my silver pompoms. We all shake them as we run to our spot on the side of the field, something that suddenly feels utterly natural to do. The crowd is still lit up as we take our position and do a few warm up cheers while the players continue stretching out and preparing for the game to start.

When the game finally begins, it's more than I could have ever imagined. Nolan owns the field. He's smooth in the way he stays settled, sits in the pocket, and scrambles in a way that makes me wonder if he's telepathic. He reads everything two steps ahead. There's a sense of natural habit in every move he makes, like he was born to play. And maybe in some weird way, he was.

He can see exactly where he needs to throw it and executes every single play. Him and Taylor seem to be in their own separate world. Nolan throws and somehow Taylor is just there to catch it, and he always catches it. Nolan even runs the ball in once. It's astounding to watch.

The band is crazy loud, pounding within my chest with every beat. I find myself feeding off of the sounds of their instruments, swaying my hips to the beat as I clap my pompoms together.

I've never experienced anything like this. The crowd, the game, the excitement that fuels my veins. I somehow want to perform bigger and louder.

When the game comes to an end, we cheer until the team is completely cleared from the field. We won 35 to 14. Casey called it a blowout. She said it wouldn't always be this way but that most games would still end up in a win for us. I have to say that I can't wait for more. I don't know if I am ready to share that with anyone but myself, but in some weird alternate reality...I actually had fun.

It's not until we hit the locker room that Casey throws her arms around me. "That was amazing!" she shouts, out of breath from pure adrenaline.

I laugh. "It wasn't bad."

"Please say you're coming out tonight. I need you with me!" Apparently there's a big party after every game. I told Casey before the game even started that there was no way I would be caught dead at such an event, but the way her eyes plead and the fact there's a demanding thump in my chest that's still high off the game, seems to get the best of me. I haven't even responded when she begins squealing. "Yes! You're coming!"

"Just for a little bit."

***

The party was a mistake. I blame my post game high. I never should have come. As soon as we walked through the doors, Casey took off. I'm not upset about it. She's been crushing hard on one of the football players and the fact he asked her if she wanted a drink was reason enough to set her free and not expect her the rest of the night.

The problem with that? She was my ride. Even if she does break free from her crush, she's now been drinking, which means I'm in need of a new ride home and an escape route.

I decide to make my way to the kitchen, a place that seems the safest to hide away in. I noticed it when I walked in, its occupation far more sparse than the rest of the house. The living room is bustling with uncomfortable laughter and questionable positioning of the couple variety. Let's just say that room is rated R and I'm a PG kind of girl.

I'm not even going to attempt to find a safe place upstairs. If what I've witnessed in the living room is any inclination of what's upstairs, I'm happy as a clam staying firmly on the first floor.

I walk through a small hall, turning slightly to pass a duo pressed up against the wall. Is anybody not attached at the mouth in this place?

I step through the archway to the kitchen, barely inside when I hear, "Her."

I look up, glancing around only to see a group gathered around an insanely large island, every pair of eyes now locked directly on me.

My skin begins to itch, my heart pounds, the echo rattling my eardrums. I want so badly to turn around, to see they're talking about anyone else. I don't even know what they're referring to, but the way each and every one of them stares is enough to make me want to curl inside myself and disappear.

"I dare you to kiss the new girl," the same voice says, and it's then that I see Genevieve is the one to say it.

One of the guys jumps down from the counter, a smile wide on his face. My eyes shift from Genevieve to his. I know him, or at least, I've seen him at school. He's also on the football team.

He's still walking toward me.

My heart is still beating from my chest, knocking through my ribcage and stealing my breath.

He's gonna kiss me.

Holy shit, he's gonna kiss me.

My first kiss. At a party. For everyone to witness.

"Hey," he says as he gets closer. "Care to help me out? I can't really back out of a dare. You know how it is."

No. I don't know how it is. I know I don't want to be kissed. Not like this. I don't want my first time to have an audience. I don't want everyone to know. Because they would know, right? It would be obvious?

I still haven't said a word, but I'm beginning to wonder if the sound of my heart can be heard, if my frantic breaths are felt across the room.

"Change it." I hear the words slice across the room, but my eyes are still glued to the tall figure in front of me. When he turns, I take a needed breath and shift my attention to the kitchen.

Genevieve's eyes widen as she whips her head to the side. I follow her stare to find Nolan at the other end of it. Her glare set on him, she says, "What do you mean, change it?"

"Change the dare," he says.

Genevieve laughs. "You can't be serious."

He doesn't waver, his eyes set on hers as he says, "I said, change it."

The kitchen falls silent, everyone waiting for what comes next. My chest is on fire, my stomach spinning in a wheel of anxiety. This can't be happening.

"Whatever," Genevieve flippantly says, tossing her hair behind her shoulder.

I don't stay to find out what the new dare is. All I can feel are their eyes on me, staring, looking at every single flaw and wondering why I stood frozen in the doorway. I looked like an idiot. A complete fool. My steps are quick, I don't have purpose or direction in my movements, but I know it doesn't matter. I know where my feet are taking me.

Pulling open the hall door, I fly into the bathroom and lock myself inside. My back hits the door as my chest pounds. I shouldn't have come. Stupid. I was so stupid. My arm falls across my stomach, squeezing at the material. I close my eyes, the sting that blankets them sends a deeper ache down my spine.

With one breath, I push myself from the door and grip the edge of the sink. The same battle rushes my chest, a siren call. I bow to the temptation and allow my eyes to find their reflection. The way they look so broken has my lip quivering. Before I let a tear escape, I flip on the sink to full blast and turn away from the mirror.

As I raise my fingers to my mouth, two loud knocks have me jumping.

"Occupied!" I shout.

Three sturdy knocks follow. I hesitate, staring at my hands, watching them shake.

Two more knocks.

Quickly, I turn off the sink and reach for the door, pulling it open. "I said—"

"You okay?" Nolan asks, cutting me off and towering over me. His eyes search mine, a gentleness behind them.

"I'm fine," I answer, brushing him off.

"You didn't seem fine."

"Well, I am." I push past him, that gnawing feeling still clawing my stomach. I need to go home.

I make my way through the crowd, forcing my way through with one mission, and one mission only, to get the hell out of here. I reach for my phone in my pocket and pull it in front of me. I'm not a hundred percent where I am, but I know there's one person who will pick me up, no questions asked.

"What are you doing?" Nolan says from behind me. Clearly I haven't lost him yet.

"I'm getting a ride home."

"From who?"

I step outside before coming to a halt and spinning around to face him. He nearly crashes into me at my abrupt movement. "My mom."

He plucks my phone from my hand. "Yeah, I don't think so."

I jump, trying to get it back but he raises it above his head. "What the hell? Give that back."

"Listen, Red. You call a parent to this party, you're basically committing social suicide."

"I really don't care."

His smirk appears, and for some reason it brings a little flutter to my chest. "I know you don't. Come on."

"Where?"

"Are you not trying to go home? Let's go."

"You're going to take me?"

"I assumed that was implied."

"Have you been drinking?"

"Not a drop."

There are about a thousand other scenarios I'd prefer to play out right now, but if this is my chance at a get out of jail free card, I'm going to take it. "Fine."