Well, compared to everyone else who’s currently naked. Especially Cortland.

No wonder he’s so miserable. Cole was right about him having a pencil dick.

Having seen more than my fill, I slowly tiptoe out of the locker room.

I take a cleansing breath to ease my anxiety as I trudge down the hallway.

It works…until I spot pom-poms.

“Hey, Izzy!!” a few cheerleaders call out.

I say a silent prayer that they don’t try to lift me on their shoulders too, because it won’t end well.

Channeling my inner mascot, I give the group an animated wave.

Which of course, makes them walk over to me.

“You okay, little man?” someone—I think Caitlyn—asks with a pout. “Morgan told us you weren’t feeling well.”

I give her a nod because it’s all I can do.

“Aw, well, you just let us know if you need anything, okay?”

Another nod.

She and another girl scamper down the hall. “Don’t forget. Casey wants everyone out there in five.”

Casey. Just the person I want to take orders from.

I’m pretty sure the night can’t get any worse.

“Don’t worry,” Morgan whispers. “I haven’t forgotten about the thank you sex I owe you after the game.”

What the hell?

I stifle a yelp when she pinches my ass.

Disgust rolls through me…until I remember she thinks I’m Oakley.

Evidently, she’s terrible with measurements too.

She goes to pinch me again, but I wag my finger at her, indicating I’m off limits.

Giggling, she comes closer. “You know I love it when you play hard to get, baby.”

Oh, hell.

“Gross,” Bianca snarls. “Isn’t that your brother?”

Morgan jumps back like she’s been burned. “Mind your business, bitch.” Flipping her hair, she struts past her. “Your days are numbered, loser.”

When she’s out of eyesight, Bianca whispers, “Sorry to break it to you, Izzy, but your sister’s a mega cunt.”

I give her a thumbs up.

Just like the first three-quarters of the game, I can’t see squat.

Apparently, the mascot hangs with the cheerleaders on the sidelines during all the fun stuff.

Along with a lot of other people.

People blocking me from seeing Cole.

I can hear everyone cheering for him though, and I know the Knights are ahead of the Bears by sixteen points. Which is awesome considering there are only two more minutes in the game.

I just wish I could have seen him throw a touchdown.

Because when he does? It’s a thing of beauty.

He throws with such precision it takes my breath away.

Reel it in, Sawyer. Your fangirl is starting to show.

I can’t help it though, Cole off the field is a ruthless asshole.

But the Cole on the field is such a skilled and smart player it’s impossible not to notice him.

He was born for this.

The crowd cheers and people in the stands begin stomping their feet.

“Lucky Seven!!”

I can’t help but smile. Cole threw another touchdown.

People start jumping up and down and I’m able to make out bits and pieces of him through the sea of bodies in front of me.

He steals my breath. He illuminates, he…

“Let’s go, Izzy,” Casey barks.

Fuck a duck.

I’m pretty sure Cole just threw the last touchdown of the game, which means we’re on deck.

The only problem?

Izzy usually dances after we win…and I don’t dance…ever.

I’m going to kill Oakley.

The cheerleaders take their positions and proceed to shake and shimmy their little hearts out.

Casey does her big flip—which even I’ll admit is impressive—and then motions for me to join them.

Here goes nothing.

Placing my hand behind my head and extending my arm out in front of me, I proceed to do the only dance move I’m good at.

The sprinkler.

I’m expecting everyone to boo and throw things but to my surprise, they all cheer. Some people even start mimicking me.

Turns out being Izzy isn’t half as bad as I thought it would be, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t in a hurry to get off the field and be Sawyer again.

The sound of the buzzer is music to my ears and when I look up, I see Lucky Seven being rushed by his teammates.

I can’t see his face since his helmet is still on, but I can feel the energy radiating off him.

It’s addicting.

I must be staring at him for too long though, because Bianca sidles up to me and whispers, “Ogle my brother any longer and Casey’s gonna test your armor out, Knight.”

Shit.

Turning, I promptly follow the cheerleaders off the field.

“You were amazing, Casey,” Morgan coos.

Kiss ass.

“I know.” Casey fluffs her hair and pouts. “But I really need to lose five pounds.”

Seriously? The girl is a size two on a bad day.

Behind them, I see Bianca exchange an eye roll with Caitlyn and another girl.

“Oh, please, girl,” Morgan tells her. “You’re perfect.”

“I know, but the head cheerleader of the Bears is skinnier and goes higher than me when she flips.” She whips a compact out of her bag. “I really want to be a cheerleader at Duke’s Heart, and they’re picky with who they accept on the team. Losing five pounds would give me an advantage.”

“You could always try low-carb.”

Casey looks at her friend like she’s a bug in her soup. “I already do no carb, Morgan.”

Bianca clears her throat. “You know, my dad’s pharmaceutical company recently developed this new protein bar that’s supposed to help athletes lose weight in a short amount of time. I can try to get you some if you want, but I should warn you, it’s really powerful and it’s still in the beginning stages, so it hasn’t been approved by the Food and Drug Administration yet.”

Casey stops in her tracks. “Does it work?”

Bianca nods. “I dropped three pounds this week. It gives you the shits like crazy though.”

Morgan crinkles her nose. “Gross.”

Bianca shrugs. “Like I said, this stuff is no joke. Plus, it’s how you lose all the weight. It has to go somewhere, you know?”

Casey thinks about this for a moment. “I suppose there’s no harm in trying it out.”

Morgan makes a face. “Don’t be dumb, Casey. I wouldn’t take anything from this little bit—”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not taking it then, huh?” Casey counters. “Although truth be told, you probably should. Your ass is getting huge.”

There are a lot of things wrong with Morgan, but the size of her ass isn’t one of them.

“Oakley told me my ass looked great today.”

Casey makes a noise of disgust. “You mean the stoner who’s repeating his senior year of high school?” She tosses her head back and laughs. “Please. That moron can barely string two decent sentences together, let alone form a cohesive thought or opinion that anyone important actually cares about.”

I open my mouth to defend my friend…but remember I can’t.