My Dirty Little Secret

Chapter Six

A/N: We've made it all the way to Chapter Six! Even though the last one was kind of short... :)
At this point, I'm switching  POV's, so get excited!

Anddd that's it. Enjoy! :)

-Railene

_______________

Chelsea's POV

Tear your eyes away, Chelsea. Damn it, just tear your eyes away! 

I couldn't. I couldn't do it. I figured I was stuck spending every English class this way for the rest of the year.  

It was something about her that made me always want to stare. Her petite frame, her flowing blonde hair, her piercing sky-blue eyes -- she was beautiful. Beautiful, yet so out of reach.

When I first walked into her homeroom, I was awestruck. When I walked into her study hall, I considered myself lucky. When I realized I was in her English class, it seemed too good to be true. When she got assigned to be the cheering coach? That was just too much.

And she had made me captain. She saw something in me, and that made me ecstatic. To me, she was like a celebrity. I'd been positive I wouldn't even get a spot because she'd had to fix my high V's. And when she did it  - oh God, the way she came up behind me and took my arms - I thought I was going to fall to the floor.

Miss Chandler was definitely the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. I couldn't wait to get to know her better.

_____

That day at practice, we went straight into stunting. I was impressed that she let us stunt so early on, but I wasn't afraid of the challenge.

"I don't know who I'm going to have fly yet," she was saying. "It's not all about body type. The shortest, thinnest girls don't always make the best flyers."

That was definitely true, and I was impressed that she realized that. I'd been a flyer all my life, and while I was skinny, I definitely wasn't short. I was about 5'6'', and I had been since the ninth grade.

"So who's usually a flyer?" she asked, and I raised my hand. To my relief, she didn't make a face because of my stature.

"Great," she said. "Chelsea, come here."

I wanted to pass out when she said my name. 

"Give me two bases, around the same height, and a backspot."

The other girls worked it out among themselves, and a few of my friends stepped forward. 

"Okay, you sit this out while I demonstrate," she said to the backspot, "And then I'll have you jump in." The girl nodded.

She put the bases in position and told them what to do. "Now I'm going to count two, lift, and you support," she coached, and we nodded.

"One, two," she called, and that's when I felt her hands on my waist. Determined to be professional,  I went through with the stunt, but felt electricity the whole time. Her tight grasp on me made me shiver, and I was close to falling out of it on my own, but one of the girls had a bad grasp on my foot and I fell backwards, into her arms. She caught me effortlessly, one arm behind my back, one under my knees, and to both my surprise and my relief, laughed.

"Oh my God," I quickly said. "I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

She put me down, gently. "Don't be. I'm fine. You're light," she said.

Had she just complimented me? Well, it didn't matter. I'd effectively embarrassed myself.

"That was good," she surprised me by saying to all of us. "But she fell out because your elbows weren't locked," she said, taking the blame off me, and I felt a hundred pounds lighter. "It'll be better next time." 

And there was a next time. Unfortunately, she put in a back spot.

______

When practice was over, everyone went to get water and gather their stuff, myself included. I'd fallen   twice because we were all rusty and I was in the air a lot, and one of the times I'd hurt my ankle. I was all ready to go home and sleep forever after the exhausting afternoon, but when I heard a smooth, angelic voice calling my name, I practically came running.

"Yeah?" I said, looking Miss Chandler in the beautiful blue eyes.

"I just want to talk to you for a couple minutes after practice," she said. "To talk about scheduling and stuff."

I nodded, trying not to show how excited I was. My heart was practically beating through my chest. "Cool," was all I said.

I sat on the bleachers waiting for everyone to go. When finally we were alone, she effortlessly hoisted herself up on the bleachers, sitting next to me. My bare thigh was touching hers very slightly, but she didn't seem to notice so I pretended I didn't either.

"Okay, so first I need to get your opinion on practices," she said. "I think we need as much as we can get if we're competing, but I don't want to interfere with too much other stuff."

"I agree," I said, admittedly just wanting her favor. "I think we should practice as much as we can. People have other things, sure, but this should be a priority. And if anyone can't do it, we do have a wait list." She looked at the ground and I was sure her mind flashed to the twelve girls who'd gotten cut. I'd only known her for a short time, but I could tell that she was an empath. She seemed to care so much about everyone. It was part of the reason I'd fallen so hard for her. She was just so sweet.

"You're right," she said, and I probably lit up just to hear her say it. "We should leave Friday open though. You guys are in high school after all." I had to smile. How cute.

"That's fine," I said. "It sounds good."

"So, Monday through Thursday?"

"Perfect," I said, not talking about the schedule as much as I was talking about her.

"How's your ankle?" she asked, changing the subject. I'd forgotten about my ankle. Now that she mentioned it, it hurt. Bad. I hadn't noticed it at all.

"It hurts," I said truthfully. "I don't think it's anything serious, though."

"Let me see it," she offered, maternally. I obliged, putting it up on the bleacher. The position made my shorts ride up, and I can't say I minded. "It looks a little bit swollen," she said, touching it lightly and making me shiver.

"It does?" I asked, just hoping she wouldn't stop touching me. 

"Mhm," she said, looking concerned. She pressed two fingers gently against the side of my calf. "Does this hurt?"

"A little," I said, not wanting to scare her off from the contact.

"Can you roll it?" I tried to do so, and was pretty much successful. "That's good," she reviewed.

"It's probably just twisted," I diagnosed. The last thing I wanted was her thinking it was sprained. Then I wouldn't be able to cheer, and more importantly, I'd lose the opportunity to stunt with her holding my waist.

She took my ankle in both hands and gently rubbed it. "I think it'll be okay," she said, massaging me slightly. I was in heaven, but tried not to show it. "Just try to stay off it, and take a hot shower or something." While I was sure she meant them to be simple clinical instructions, her words sounded sensual and I couldn't help but think of her in the shower...

Stop, Chelsea. "I will," I decided to say, and smiled awkwardly. It seemed like I was being dismissed, so I swung my leg back over and sat up. When I changed positions, we were even closer than before. I could have kissed her, and I almost did.

No, Chelsea. She was probably straight. And even if she wasn't, she wasn't attracted to me. And even if she was, she wouldn't want to kiss me. And even if she did, she wouldn't risk her job for me. 

So I resisted every urge I had and smiled cordially. "Bye, Miss Chandler."

She smiled a smile that set me on fire. "Bye, Chelsea."