The QB Bad Boy and Me

(1) "Are you lost?"

Author note: to clear up confusion that a lot of people have. Dallas is a female! She's a cheerleader. Drayton is our
main man. :) continue.

"Dallas! You've had all summer to lie around, get up and do laps. Now!"

I turn my head to the side, prying my eyes open from where I lay in the trimmed green grass of the school field. The sun streams down and it's entirely too beautiful of a day to be spent at school taking orders from Emily Raeken, captain of the cheer team and all around, evil dictator.

I decide then and there that I'll start a petition for summer break to extend a month longer. Days like this shouldn't be spent in the confines of school property. They should be spent on the road, creating memories, beach trips and whatever else one would deem buzz worthy.

"Get up Dallas!" The shrill voice comes piercing through the otherwise peaceful air. "Or you can do suicide runs for the rest of the afternoon!"

"One more year," I mutter to myself, rolling on to my hands and knees before I stand to my feet and begin jogging back and forth with the rest of the cheer squad.

One more year of cheerleading. One more year of school. One more year of Archwood High. One more year of Archwood, Colorado, before I can finally make my way to California and live the way I've always wanted to.

I complete the drills, pushing myself hard because at the end of the day, I may detest cheerleading and all the preppy propaganda that surrounds it. But I don't do anything half assed. And I need this team if I want any chance of attending the California Institute of the Arts to pursue my dance career.

Our school doesn't have a dance team, no matter how hard I'd tried to convince the school that it'd be beneficial to start one, it just didn't happen. So I had to settle for cheerleading, knowing that it'll look good on my college applications.

"Where's your cheer uniform?" Emily asks as I towel off the sweat beads that are soaking my body. I glance down at the little boy shorts and sports bra that I'm currently adorning before I meet her impatient glare.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" I shrug, much to her obvious annoyance. "If I practice in my cheer uniform I have to wash it constantly."

"So buy a spare uniform or two," she rolls her eyes, with an obnoxious shrug.

"They're like two hundred dollars Emily. Not everyone has that kind of money."

"We practice in uniform." She orders before she starts to turn away. The tell tale signs of her elation are beaming from her features. I swear that causing misery gives her a fucking hard on.

I'm tempted to argue but instead bite my tongue. That rule has never applied and I'd bet my life that it still doesn't. But for some reason Emily is intent on getting a reaction from me and she often presses my buttons in hopes of getting one. I think that it has a lot to do with the fact that I don't give a shït about her 'status'.

I've made it this far in school, keeping under the radar, knowing when to speak and when not to speak and more often than not, I don't engage in conversations or arguments for the sake of staying invisible.

Emily is just our captain but the cruel twist of fate is that her mother is our coach. However, the woman is never around. I mean, never. I think she made a brief appearance at the Christmas party this year. But otherwise, Emily is left to make all of the calls. She decides who makes the team, who doesn't. What routines we do and where we do them. She decides how often we practice and she does hustle. But her routines lack originality and I'm sick of doing the same steps in a different order all the time.