The Heartbreakers' Rule Set

Chapter Four

Practice isn't quite the therapy session I was hoping it would be, to say the least.

"Come on, guys!! This is the last practice before the game tomorrow!" I shout at the unsteady pyramid of girls. It successfully stays in position for a few second longer before toppling over, unlucky girls landing on the unforgiving turf of the football field. Rubbing my temples, I take a deep breath and hold it before letting it out in a whoosh of air. "Okay, from the top!"

"Ali, we can't," Bree, one of my sophomore bases complains. "You've been working us like this all week."

"Yeah, okay. Take five, everyone," I tell them. Most of the cheerleaders head to the bleachers to grab their waters, but a loyal few come over to stand by me.

"Ali, don't pay any attention to her! We all know that to be the best, we need to be dedicated," Carly, a driven blonde, insists. Glad that at least a few of them share my mindset, I grin and nod.

"After all, we can't have the crowd actually paying attention to the game, not can we?" my second-in-command, Caroline, asks. Her petite features are decorated with a mischievous grin.

"Hey, as a reward for the hard work, we should sneak into a club somewhere after the game tomorrow!" Lauren, one of my least favorite girls on the squad, squeals.

"Better. Asher is throwing a party at his place tomorrow, and you know he'd never turn down cheerleaders," Sarah, our flyer, suggests with a glint in her eye. Knowing that I'm far from invited, I wrinkle my nose. "Come on, Ali. You never relax! Let's do something fun!" Finally giving in, I concede, adding that I'm only doing this if they kick ass on the field. Excited, they rush to tell the other girls while I look over the routine list one last time.

"Alright, girls! Perfect this, and we get to party!" I yell. They rush back onto the field, whooping at the prospect of tomorrow night.

Everyone manages to learn the routine quickly, so I let them go ten minutes early and head to the locker room with the rest of the girls to get changed. As I change out of the sweaty uniform, I catch snippets of the conversations around me.

"Asher...so hot..." "Heard he has...his dad..." "Never actually...going to date..." "Would totally bang...strings..." "Brothers maybe...dates everyone anyway..."

Rolling my eyes, I try not to let the conversations irritate me. It takes all of my willpower not to warn them or tell them that they really and truly have no chance with him. Somehow managing to avoid getting caught up in a conversation about my least favorite subject; I slip out the door and walk the short distance to the senior lot. As soon as I turn the key in the ignition of my bright red Honda, Nirvana blasts from the speakers. Choosing not to turn it down, I let the wind from the open window wreak havoc on my hair. The drive to Kaytee's, the slightly run-down diner near school where I had promised to meet Emma, is quick. A cup of coffee with my best friend sounds perfect, so I hurry inside.

Usually, Emma beats me since I have practice, but today she's nowhere in sight. Shrugging it off, I account it to the fact that practice ended early and grab my coffee before snagging our favorite booth. It's in the front corner of the restaurant, so we have a great view of both the window and the line of customers. It doesn't hurt that the wall around the booth is plastered with photos of Elvis.

Fifteen minutes later, Emma still hasn't arrived. I pull out my phone, preparing to send a text to her, but before I can even begin typing, she sits down in front of me.

"Hey, thank God! I was starting to wor-" I break off in the middle of my sentence. The person sitting in front of me isn't Emma...

It's Asher Evans.