CHAPTER TWO routine disaster

"Oh, gosh, you're crying."

I PLACE MY FINAL shirt in the dresser drawer in my new room. I glance at the small, wooden box that sits on top of the wooden dresser- the plaque reads Bandit Bennett, Forever in my heart. I kiss my fingers and press it against the cool metal.

"Ready to go?" Shayla asks, spinning her car key around her finger as she enters the room. "I guess," I sigh, turning to face her. Her eyes rake down my new outfit- an orange tee shirt and black leggings. "Love the team spirit!" I roll my eyes, tucking my shattered phone into my back pocket. We exit the house and I climb into her sleek, black sports car.

Neither of us said much- anxiety ate at me the entire ride and I think Shayla knew that.

"Do you think I have a chance?" I ask her, scared of the answer. She thinks for a moment as she turns into the facility. "Of course you do. You're great. Just show them that."

We enter the facility after Shayla scans her ID. I follow her to a security desk, where a large, bored-looking man sits. "Hi, Mark!" Shayla greets him, pulling a clipboard towards her.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Shayla. How are you today?" the bald man asks, a smile settling over his smooth skin. "Good. This is my friend, Talullah. She's here for a cheerleading interview." I wave shyly as my friend signs the papers. "Hi Talullah, it's nice to meet you. Have you ever cheered before?"

I nod, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "I actually cheered in college, and for the Cowboys." He nods, impressed. "Well, good luck. Have a good day, girls."

We wave goodbye to Mark as Shayla leads me through the unfamiliar space. My stomach is in knots by the time we arrive at the cheer office. The room is sleek and polished- two women sit behind a dark, wooden desk. One is scribbling something on a piece of paper while the other types away on her laptop. I wring my hands together as we approach. Both women look up- "Shayla. And you must be Talullah Bennett. If you'll follow me, you can show us your performance, then we can sit and chat a little bit."

I smile, turning to Shayla to give her a nervous face. She gives me a smile and two thumbs up before pushing me to follow the gray-haired woman. She leads me to an empty gym. She motions for me to take the middle as she settles into a chair. The other woman from the desk comes in, her heels clacking against the floor. "Whenever you're ready."

The gym is silent, except for the thudding of my sneakers against the floor as I complete my routine. I land my last summersault, holding the pose for a beat too long. I smile to mask the nerves that settle under my skin; my blood rushes into my ears. "Impressive," the brunette with the tight bun says, not looking up from her clipboard as she scribbles.

"Thank you, ma'am," I say, straightening my back. I can't show fear, they can smell it. "Well, you have the skill and physicality for it," the grey woman says. She crosses one leg over the other. "Very talented. But it's more than just routine."

My heart drops into my stomach. I already know where this is going, and I want to melt into the floor. I could be home, with my family, finding a quiet job without disappointment, teaching second-grade math.

"It's about team chemistry. You have to have a certain... attitude. A certain reputation. We just feel there's a certain dynamic that we're not sure you have. You have the ability. We just do not think you'd be a good addition to the Ben-Gals."

I sigh through my nose, trying to keep the tears at bay. This was nothing but an embarrassment. I don't know why I even thought I had a chance.

"Thank you," I mumble, not bothering to look at them as I exit the gym as fast as I can. I leave the office, entering the maze of the complex.

I grip my hair as I walk down the hallway, internally cringing. "So stupid," I mutter, wiping the back of my hand across my sweaty forehead. That went horribly. I just want to curl up into a ball and really pretend that I never left Arizona.

I might just have to get a job teaching. Would a school even hire me? My background as a cheerleader might blur some lines, but the rumors might just erase them completely.

I'm going to have to move back home.

I groan loudly, looking around for the exit. I pull out my phone to text Shayla. I type frantically as I speed walk through the echoing halls of the complex. I hit send right as I round the corner, and a barreling force sends me flying. Before I can even brace myself, my body is thrown back and the floor comes up too fast.

I hit the tiled floor, and I hit it hard. The side of my head strikes something solid- the wall, the floor, it could be a damn brick for all I know. I gasp at the sudden rush of pain; my vision blurs.

A thick, dizzy haze settles over me as my ears ring, and I groan. There's a sharp pain in my skull and an explosive pain blossoming through my nose, making my entire face hurt. Sharp and hot. I lay there for a moment, trying to gain a sense of consciousness back.

I instinctively touch my throbbing nose. My fingers come away with a smear of blood, angry and bright red. "Fuck, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

"I- I'm okay, just, dizzy," I mumble, blood dripping down my lips, onto my orange shirt and the pristine white floor. "No, no, I really didn't mean to. Shit, please let me help you. Are you sure you're alright? That was all me, I'm sorry," the man says frantically. My vision may be blurred, but I can read his horrified expression easily.

His large hands hover awkwardly, unsure of how to help. "I feel like such an asshole right now," he whispers. I know he feels bad, but I'm in too much pain to reassure him.

I try to push myself up, but my arms shake too bad. "You're fine," I mutter, a few tears reflexively dripping down my cheeks. "Oh, gosh, you're crying. Fuck, I'm such an idiot. Here, just stay here, I'll be right back."

He disappears quickly, his footsteps echoing in the looming ceiling. Great. Just great. As if I'm not already stressed enough about a job, now I probably have a concussion and a broken nose.

He comes jogging back with a bag of ice. "Here," he says, pressing it against my throbbing nose. The cold is sharp but relieving. "You're okay," he says softly. His tenderness instantly causes me to relax and I'm suddenly exhausted. The entirety of the past 48 hours is rapidly catching up to me. I want to go home, to my own room, and cuddle up with Bandit and watch TV until we both fall asleep. But I can't- Bandit isn't here and I'm in a new city, jobless and friendless.

I try to climb to my feet once again, but my body is too tired. My vision has cleared, and I can finally make out my assaulter- a sandy blonde with piercing blue eyes.

He pulls the bloodied bag away and pushes it into my hand. I furrow my eyebrows at him, watching him rise to his feet. I open my mouth to speak. Before I can ask, he leans down and slides an arm under my knees. Effortlessly, he picks me up and places me on my feet. I stumble, reaching for him. He quickly wraps an arm around me. My skin burns where his callused hand firmly holds my arm. "Hey, hey, I'm right here. C'mon, let's get you to the medic. Put that ice on your nose."

My brain is on autopilot as I let him lead. His pace is slow and deliberate- and I'm thankful. Everything is foggy, and if I had to find my own way through his complex, I might just lay on the ground until someone finds me.

"Here we are," he assures as we enter a white room that smells of antiseptic and alcohol. The ache has spread to the back of my skull like a burst of fireworks. I gasp as he literally picks me up and places me on the hospital-like bed. I let the nurses flock to me, taking the ice from my hand and pressing antiseptic wipes to the blood-stained across my skin. I also let him sit next to me as they work, and I let him keep his arm around me, practically propping me up. Truthfully, I'm too exhausted to do it myself.

Everyone's voices blur together and I feel like my consciousness is hiding in the deepest crevices of my body. It's odd- their voices mesh together like video game characters. But his voice stands out from theirs- deep and steady. I know that 'concussion' and 'break' get thrown around and the mysterious man nods at their words.

As nice as this guy is, I could give him a concussion.

They shine a light in my eyes, and it makes my head throb even more. All I can do is moan in protest- everything and everyone feels so far away except the pain.

She touches my nose and the pain is unbearable- it is so hot and sharp that it consumes me. "Leave me alone," I cry, swatting her hands away. "Hey, hey, they need to look at it," the guy says, pushing my hand down. "No," I mumble, trying to shrug him off. "C'mon, girl," he sighs, wrapping his arms around me. "Get off me," I demand, trying to shrug him off. I know it's useless, but I feel so embarrassed. I turn my head away from them in a pathetic attempt to be left alone.

"Joe, please. If you have to hold her down, do it. We need to assess," the young nurse sighs. I feel bad for making their jobs harder, but it's too much.

He lets me go with a sigh and instead slides behind me, wrapping one arm around me. My arms are pinned to my sides, and I'm transported back to when my own father would hold me like this for routine vaccinations. I'm suddenly a child again, and I want my dad more than anything.

Heat radiates from him as I stare at his long legs that hang off the bed. "Please," I sigh, too tired to put up a fight. "What's your name?" he asks, ignoring my pleas. His long fingers press into my hot cheeks as he grabs my jaw to keep me from turning away. "Talullah," I answer, squeezing my eyes shut as I brace myself for the nurse's touch.

I try to focus on how warm his skin is against mine instead of how bad I know this is going to hurt. "I'm Joe." I tense up as she gently presses my nose. My fingernails dig into my palms, and I try to feel that pain rather than the one in my face.

I feel tears pour over. The nurse pulls away, her face twisted. "Cherry, I can't tell if there's a break. Can you come see?" I bite back a sob. His name feels foreign on my tongue as I plead, "Joe, please, don't let them touch me again, it hurts."

I feel him shift behind me while an older nurse patters up to us. "I won't let them hurt you, Talullah, but they have to look at it, okay? We have to know if it's broken."

I bite my lip as the new nurse presses my nose. I lean back on Joe's sturdy frame, waiting for the pain to end. Her nimble and experienced fingers pull away much quicker than the first nurses. "No break, just a fracture. Definitely has a concussion, I don't think it's too bad, though."

The nurse and Joe talk in low voices to one another as I relax into his warmth. I let my eyelids flutter close and I could fall asleep right here- in some random man's arms, in an NFL complex, in a state some 1,000 miles away from my family.

"Hey, no sleeping," Joe says, shaking me softly. "I'm not sleeping, the light hurts," I mumble in response. "Okay, well, I have your run down. You have to have someone sit with you until tomorrow. Do you have family I could bring you to or call?"

Not one that cares, is what I want to say. Instead, I answer, "No."

"Any friends?" I could laugh. Damn Shayla.

"Shayla Manning."

"Ah," Joe hums. "Good ol' Shayla, huh? Since the season's starting soon, she's gonna be busy all day. I had a meeting, but I can cancel. I can sit with you at your place if you want."

"I just moved in with Shayla. I don't have a key. I can wait for her to get off. It's fine, Joe, you can go home," I say, sitting up from my position on his chest. He pulls back further, almost embarrassed by our previous position. "You need someone to watch you. Have you ever had a concussion?"

I shake my head softly, shading my eyes from the white lights. Joe slides off the bed, bending down to pick up a bag. He rummages through it for a few seconds before grabbing a pair of sunglasses and sliding them onto my face.

"Exactly. C'mon, let's go to my house and you can rest."