I bent over so she could pull off my jersey. I quickly untied my pads and pulled them off. I was sweaty and still tasted blood in my mouth, but Parker didn’t seem put off.

“Do you need help putting it back on?” she asked.

“Yes, but let me just rinse out my mouthguard real quick.” It unnerved me that she was watching me and when I felt her hand on the back of my neck I almost crumpled. Her touch was amazing.

“Your hair is holding up nicely,” she said.

I nodded and discreetly spit the water into the sink. It wasn’t bloody so I didn’t have to be embarrassed by that. “Thank you so much. You seem to be rescuing me a lot today.” She helped me wrestle into my new pads and watched me intently as I laced up.

“Ready for the jersey?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry it’s so dirty. Tough game.”

“It’s okay. This is what we do. We cheer, braid hair, and even help dress players.” We both blushed at her words.

“Wow. I mean, I knew cheerleaders were helpful.”

She giggled and pushed my shoulder playfully. “Not like that.” She gathered up my jersey and held it in front of her.

It was a struggle, but we got it on just in time. The banging on the locker room door startled us both.

“Let’s go, McCoy.”

“Yes, Coach.” I smiled at Parker and grabbed my helmet.

“Go get ’em, McCoy.” She growled and made a little fist.

“I will.” I opened the door and trailed my team back to the field. A few moments later I saw Parker slip into formation with the cheer team.

“What are you smiling about? This game is killing me.” Max adjusted his helmet and stretched. He was getting pounded out there. He was used to it. I wasn’t.

I nodded at Parker. “Her. She’s so nice. She helped me in the locker room with my pads.”

“She’s hot, too.” He smacked my knee and pointed at the field. “But let’s get back to the game. We’re up.”

We won by three points. The crowd was wild, the coaches almost fought, and I was exhausted. We downed Gatorade and listened to Coach tell us all the good we did. I peeled off my uniform and sprawled out on one of the benches in the women’s locker room wearing my compression shirt.

“We meet again.”

I looked up and smiled when I saw Parker, but dropped it when two other cheerleaders, Missy and Amberlynn, walked up behind her.

“Good game, Sutton,” Amberlynn said.

I waved thanks to her, too tired to speak.

“I don’t know how you do it or why you do it. You probably have a million bruises.” Missy always spoke her mind, and nine times out of ten, she was a bitch.