I set my jaw and ignore them, looking to see where the cheerleaders are heading, but none of them seem to be doing anything other than chatting with each other and flirting with the boys who pass by. For all the work they did tonight, somehow none of them look like they even broke a sweat.

How nice for them.

Desperate, I yank out my phone and pull up Amber’s number. Where do we go to change? Then I remember she doesn’t have my number. It’s Jack btw.

I don’t see her anywhere, but my phone lights up with a message thirty seconds later. Go around front. Someone will let you in and point you to the bathroom.

I do what she says and strip off my jersey and pads the second the door closes behind me. I’m filthy, but a shower won’t be happening until I get home, no matter how much my muscles are screaming for one. The baby wipes I brought will have to do. I’m swiping one down the center of my sports bra when the door opens and I freeze like a deer in headlights.

Chapter Four

-AMBER-

I should stay away from her for so many reasons, but between the pep rally and no one bothering to tell her where to go after the game, I can’t help but check on Jack to make sure everything’s okay. I tell Cara I’m going to the “locker room,” knowing not one single girl will follow me in there because we never change at other schools, and then follow the exact instructions I gave Jack, gingerly pushing open the bathroom door and keeping my eyes on the floor just in case. “Jack?”

No answer, but I can hear her breathing. I step in, letting the door close behind me. “Jack? It’s Amber. Just Amber,” I clarify.

“Lucky me,” she mutters.

I follow the sound of her voice, despite how harsh and unwelcoming it is, but as soon as I see her, I freeze in my tracks. She’s taken off the top half of her uniform, and as cute as she is in that, seeing her in nothing but a sports bra and football pants makes my mouth go dry. I quickly look away to give her some privacy, and it takes a few pathetic attempts to get my next words out. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I hear a yank on what must be her hair elastic, and it occurs to me I’ve never seen her hair down. I can’t even picture it, and don’t think she’d like me to. “I just played football. I’m sweaty.”

Me too, I think, rubbing my palms on my cheer skirt. “I’d think you’d be a little happier-sounding that you just won your first game.”