“Nice cheerleader outfit,” Blake says, looking me up and down.
I smirk at him. “You know I’m a cheerleader,” I say.
“Still, to see it… Wow.”
I laugh. I am standing in my bedroom in front of my dresser mirror, brushing my long dark blond hair. I check the eyeliner around my dark blue eyes. Still looks good. My boyfriend Blake is standing in my doorway.
“You know I’m just going to mess it up again,” he says, coming towards me seductively.
“Shh,” I say. “Close the door.”
He chuckles. “Erica.” Still, he humors me. He closes the door and leans against it with his tall lanky frame. He is good-looking. He has short, dark hair, lean muscles, and his arms folded across his chest.
He’s in college. I’m in high school—a senior. I turned 18 a few months ago. He’s my best friend’s older brother.
