Cheerleading practice is grueling.
Kayla has us going all out for the upcoming interstate championship like it's tomorrow instead of next year.
We're supposed to be sharp and synchronized, but I'm none of those things.
I can't nail the last three steps to save my life.
Prisci replays the music, and we get back into the choreo, but then, for the fourth move, I'm half a beat behind again.
The girls groan in annoyance.
Kayla throws me another one of her death glares. If I hadn't saved her ass from failing biology last semester, I'm pretty sure she'd have me benched by now.
I'm in the middle of another stunt when the side door creaks open, and Zayn enters the gym, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder.
His hair is damp from a shower after football practice, and he's wearing that blac
