Chapter 5
Joycelyn’s POV
I hooked my fingers into the collar of his jersey, pulling him closer until I could feel his breath
against my lips.
“Kiss me,” I whispered.
I knew Nathan didn’t actually want me–not the studious, ambitious me beneath the cheerleader
uniform. His subtle flinch whenever I initiated contact hadn’t gone unnoticed. Until now, I’d played it.
safe, worried he’d bail on whatever twisted bet he had with Raven if I pushed too hard.
But the rules had changed. If he wanted me to tank my future at Harvard, some genuine physical
attention seemed like the bare minimum in return. That’s how negotiations worked, right?
When his lips finally pressed against mine–hesitant at first, like he was forcing himself to cross
some invisible line–I mentally thanked every all–nighter I’d ever pulled. Those years of SAT prep
books, those weekends spent in the library while other girls were at the mall, those 5 AM study
sessions before cheer practice–they had all led me here, to the backseat of Nathan Darwin’s Jeep, parked at the scenic overlook above Boulder.
Joycelyn Quinn, your sacrifice is finally paying off.
I started blowing off Academic Decathlon meetings to watch Nathan run drills with Coach Winters. My neatly organized Google calendar filled with parties at Tyler’s lakehouse and midnight drives to Denver instead of college application workshops. My spotless attendance record crumbled as we’d cut fourth period calculus to get lunch at that diner on Pearl Street where the waitresses never carded us for milkshakes spiked with Bailey’s.
My GPA took a nosedive accordingly.
The first benchmark was, predictably, losing my top rank to Raven.
During the Spring Honors Assembly in the wood–paneled auditorium, when Principal Matthews adjusted his glasses and announced, “This quarter’s highest academic achievement award goes to… Raven Green,” the crowd erupted in applause. The robotics team president sitting behind me whispered, “Didn’t see that coming,” to his friend.
Raven floated down the center aisle in her carefully–selected business casual outfit, accepting the
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Touchdown PLAY: Cheer Queen vs. Quarterback King
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Chapter 5
engraved plaque with trembling hands. As she made her way back to her seat, I caught her dabbing at her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan.
I didn’t miss how her gaze locked on my third row seat, where I sat with my legs crossed, scrolling through Instagram instead of paying attention. The corner of her mouth twitched in a barely contained smile of triumph.
I kept my expression neutral, though internally I was already thinking: time to cash in.
That afternoon, Nathan was practically buzzing with energy. He spotted me by my Prius in the senior parking lot and jogged over, his varsity jacket unzipped despite the spring chill, Ray Bans pushed up on his head, catching the late afternoon light in a way that made his profile look like something out of an Abercrombie ad.
Despite knowing this whole relationship was manufactured, I still felt a genuine flutter when he wrapped his arms around my waist and spun me around, my cheer skirt flaring out around my
thighs.
“What’s got you so hyped?” I asked as he set me down beside my car, his hands lingering at my waist.
“Killed it at QB training today,” he grinned, that perfect dimple appearing in his left cheek. “Coach says I might break the school passing record next season if I keep this up.”
I smiled back, knowing perfectly well there hadn’t been any quarterback training that day. The athletic director had announced at yesterday’s pep rally that the field was closed for reseeding before summer training camp.
Instead of calling him out, I reached into the pocket of my letterman jacket–the one he’d given me last month that still smelled faintly of his cologne–and pressed a small plastic key card into his palm.
“It’s my eighteenth birthday,” I said, watching his expression shift from confusion to realization as he stared at the Marriott logo on the card.
“Stay with me tonight,” I said, my voice steady despite my racing pulse. “I want to celebrate properly.”
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Chapter 6
Chapter 6
