By the time Jonna dragged Isla toward the athletic field, the exhaustion from the flight had settled deeper into her body.
Her muscles ached.
Her head still felt slightly heavy from lack of sleep, and the only thing keeping her moving was stubbornness and the iced coffee Jonna had practically forced into her hands twenty minutes earlier.
The closer they got to the field, the louder everything became.
Music blasted from giant speakers near the bleachers while groups of girls crowded around the cheer practice area in shorts, crop tops, and expensive sneakers that looked too clean actually to be used for training.
Some stretched casually on the grass while others practiced routines in front of mirrors propped against benches.
And then there was the football field beside them.
Players ran drills under the burning afternoon sun while coaches barked instructions across the turf—the sound of whistles, shouting, and helmets colliding carried on nonstop.
Ravenhurst really did breathe football.
“You’re staring again,” Jonna teased.
“I’m judging.” Isla countered.
“That’s because you’re British now.”
Isla laughed.
“I’m not British.”
“Well, I hope you haven’t lost your right to argue.”
Isla rolled her eyes but didn’t answer.
Her attention had already shifted toward the cheerleaders gathered near the center of the field.
There had to be over forty girls here—maybe more.
Most of them looked polished, in a way that screamed experience.
Perfect hair.
Perfect makeup.
Confident smiles.
The kind of girls who looked like they belonged in front of cameras.
A familiar knot tightened in Isla’s stomach.
Maybe agreeing to this had been stupid.
Before she could second-guess herself further, a sharp voice cut through the noise.
“You’re late.”
Isla turned toward the speaker.
The blonde standing in front of them was tall, strikingly beautiful, and intimidating in an effortless way that made people straighten automatically when she looked at them.
Her ponytail sat high and sleek, not a single strand out of place.
She held a clipboard against her chest like a weapon.
“Five minutes,” Jonna corrected casually.
“Relax, Isoldea.”
Isoldea’s eyes shifted toward Isla slowly, assessing her from head to toe.
“This is the friend you mentioned?”
“Yep.”
“She has experience?” Isoldea asked.
Isla answered before Jonna could.
“Dance and cheer.”
“How long ago?”
“A while.”
Isoldea lifted one perfectly shaped brow.”That’s reassuring.”
Jonna snorted while Isla fought the urge to sigh.
Bossy.
Definitely bossy.
“I’m Isla,” she said flatly.
“Isoldea.” The girl adjusted the clipboard under her arm.
“Team captain.”
That explained the attitude.
Isoldea glanced at Isla’s dance bag before nodding toward the practice area.
“Warm up. We’re starting rotations soon.” Then she walked away without another word.
Jonna leaned closer immediately.
“Don’t mind her. She’s permanently stressed.”
“She seems lovely.”
“She cried once because someone messed up a pyramid formation.”
“That somehow doesn’t surprise me.”
As Isla moved toward the stretching area, she became increasingly aware of the noise level around the football field rising.
A sudden wave of squealing erupted nearby from the girls around her.
“Oh my God, Liam’s here.”
“No way.”
“He looks so good today.”
“Shut up, I saw him first.”
Isla blinked.
The reaction was so ridiculous that she automatically looked toward the field.
A group of football players had just walked onto the turf, helmets tucked beneath their arms, while coaches greeted them.
They carried themselves with the kind of confidence athletes usually develop after years of being treated like celebrities.
One of them instantly stood out.
The poster guy.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
Dark hair, already slightly messy from sweat.
Even from this distance, there was something annoyingly self-assured about the way he moved.
The girls around her practically vibrated.
“Liam Douglas is literally unreal.”
“I heard he rejected some influencer last week.”
“He’s so hot it’s offensive.”
Isla looked away almost immediately.
Not her problem.
She bent forward slowly, stretching her hamstrings while trying to ignore the constant chatter around her.
Honestly, she was more focused on making sure her body still remembered old routines than whatever campus god these girls were obsessing over.
“You seriously aren’t looking?” Jonna whispered dramatically beside her.
“At what?”
“At him.”
Isla snorted.
“I can hear the collective thirst from here. I don’t need visuals, too.”
Jonna burst out laughing.
“You’re impossible.”
“Maybe.”
Isla had spent too many years around arrogant male athletes during competitions to be impressed by pretty faces and oversized egos.
Isolde called them all together with the sound of a whistle.
The tryouts officially started minutes later.
Groups were called in turn while Isoldea and two assistant captains observed with critical expressions.
Some girls performed impressive tumbling passes while others completely lost rhythm halfway through routines.
Isla stayed quiet near the back, rolling tension out of her shoulders while waiting for her turn.
Nerves slowly crept in despite herself.
It had been years since she’d done cheerleading seriously.
Dance was different.
It was more controlled.
More technical.
Cheer required energy.
Personality.
Confidence.
“Next group!” Isoldea called out sharply.
Jonna immediately shoved Isla forward.
“You’ll do great.”
“If I die, delete my search history.”
“That somehow makes me less confident in you.” Jonna blew kisses in the air.
As Isla stepped onto the mat area, she became faintly aware of noise from the football field dimming slightly.
Some players had wandered closer during the tryouts, probably looking for entertainment between drills.
Typical.
Music started through the speakers.
The second Isla moved, instinct took over.
Her body remembered before her mind did.
The rhythm settled into her muscles naturally as she transitioned through the routine.
Sharp movements blended with fluidity from years of dance training.
She hit the turns cleanly, landed her tumbling pass steadily, then moved into the stunt sequence with practiced control.
By the end, her breathing had quickened slightly, not from panic but more from adrenaline.
For a brief second, she almost forgot where she was until applause broke out nearby.
Jonna screamed the loudest.
“That’s my girl!”
Heat crept into Isla’s cheeks as she stepped back.
Isoldea scribbled something onto her clipboard before looking up again.
“You’re rusty,” she said bluntly.
Isla exhaled quietly.
Then Isoldea added, “But not bad.”
Isla tried to smile a little.
Coming from her, that probably counted as high praise.
Jonna looked personally victorious.
“I told you!”
Before Isla could move to meet Jonna, something slammed painfully into the side of her head.
The impact came so suddenly that her vision blurred for half a second.
Then a football dropped onto the grass beside her.
Silence spread across the area almost instantly.
Pain pulsed sharply near her temple as Isla pressed her hand against the spot with a grimace.
“Oh, my God!” Jonna rushed toward her immediately.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Isla muttered, though her head definitely disagreed.
Across the field, mocking laughter erupted.
Did they make fun of her?
Slowly, Isla turned toward the football players.
Several of them stood nearby, grinning openly like this entire thing was amusing.
Immediate anger sparked in her chest.
“Oh, absolutely not!”
Jonna grabbed her arm lightly to stop her.
“Isla—”
But she was already walking toward them.
The players quieted slightly as she approached.
Up close, they looked even more irritatingly confident.
“Who threw that?” she demanded.
No one answered.
“I said, who the hell threw that damn ball?!” Her voice rose higher.
One player instantly pointed beside him.
Then another did too.
And another.
Every finger landed on the same person.
Liam Douglas.
He stood there casually, completely unbothered, football gloves hanging from one hand while he watched her approach with zero guilt on his face.
Not even a little.
Isla stopped directly in front of him.
“You hit me.”
His gaze dropped briefly toward the side of her head before returning to her face.
“You survived.”
A few teammates snorted behind him.
Her irritation sharpened instantly.
“That usually comes after an apology.”
“Ooh! She’s got attitude.” One of the players muttered.
Another player whistled softly.
Liam didn’t react to his teammates.
His attention stayed fixed on Isla, calm and unreadable.
“You new here?” he asked.
She blinked once.
“What?”
“Haven’t seen you with the cheer squad before.”
The arrogance in his tone irritated her more than getting hit.
“You seem to know every girl on campus,” she shot back.
A couple of players burst out laughing.
The insult landed exactly how she intended.
Liam’s eyes narrowed slightly, though his expression remained calm.
“Occupational hazard,” he said dryly.
“Cheerleaders tend to spend most of practice trying to distract the quarterback.”
Several girls nearby immediately started protesting.
“We do not!”
“That’s not true.”
Liam ignored them completely.
Isla folded her arms.
“Maybe football players wouldn’t get distracted so easily if they had actual personalities.”
Silence.
Complete silence.
Even the nearby cheerleaders froze.
Somewhere behind her, someone let out a low whistle again.
Jonna looked like she wanted to disappear into another dimension.
Apparently, nobody spoke to Liam Douglas like that.
But Isla barely cared at this point.
His gaze settled on her fully now, sharper than before.
For a second, she expected anger.
Instead, he smiled.
Not nicely.
Not warmly.
The kind of smile that made warning bells ring immediately.
Dangerous.
He took one slow step closer, expecting her to back away automatically.
Isla didn’t move.
She had to tilt her head slightly to maintain eye contact because he was annoyingly tall, but her expression stayed firm.
“You talk a lot for someone who just got here,” he said quietly.
“And you act like being good at football makes you important.”
Several teammates made choking noises behind him.
Liam’s jaw flexed once.
“Careful,” he murmured.
“Confidence usually works better when the person actually matters.”
There it was.
The humiliation attempt.
Like he expected her to shrink from it, unfortunately for him, Isla had spent years surviving ballet instructors who specialized in emotional destruction.
One cocky quarterback wasn’t exactly terrifying.
She smiled coldly.
“That’s funny coming from a guy whose entire personality revolves around throwing a ball.”
The reaction from his teammates was louder this time.
“Oh shit.”
“Damn.”
“Bro—”
Liam stared at her for a long second.
He didn’t expect the clapback.
Then Isla stepped back before he could answer again.
“You should work on your aim, or maybe your ego blocked your vision.” She said casually.
Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away.
Her heart pounded hard in her chest, but she refused to let it show.
Behind her, absolute chaos erupted.
“Yo, she cooked you.”
“She’s insane.”
“She’s cute, though.”
The last comment made Liam’s voice snap sharply across the field.
“Get back to training.”
The teasing stopped immediately.
But even as Isla returned toward the cheer area beside a stunned-looking Jonna, she could still feel his eyes on her.
What do you think?
I hope this chapter enticed you enough to want to keep reading.