Callie Reeves is a perfectionist. She has control over everything from her friends to her grades, the cheerleading squad she captains and anyone inbetween - even when it comes to dating.
After creating a list of rules to keep her no-strings attache...
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"You're doing it wrong," Faye heckles, watching from her spot on the ground as I go over the newest cheer. "Not that I'm surprised."
I kiss my teeth, ignoring her and watch for myself. This is meant to be the hype routine to get the audience involved, or at least pumped up for the game. I don't know why but positions have been shifted and some of the shorter people were at the back.
"You're meant to focus on your chanel unless you swap with someone else," I reprimand, feeling my temples throb at the chaos that's occured. "Alright. Stop. Stop."
"What's wrong?" Phoebe asks, stepping up to me while the others remain back.
"The formation is off and transitions aren't smooth, it's like they've been told to just do whatever and they're clumping." I grumble.
"That's because Faye told us to go as a group."
"Wonderful," I shoot a look at a smug looking Faye before clapping my hands with a whistle to get their attention. "Okay. This is how it's going to work: split into your year group from shortest to tallest, you will be assigned a number and a trick so please remember what you're told. Move it."
They thankfully do as asked and I try not to show the pain shooting down my arm. Ouch. It's like any and all movement hurts, which makes sense considering I've only had functionality of it for a few hours.
The rest of the practice results in me organizing positions and having them alternate tricks so not everyone does the same thing at the same time. Even with Faye putting in her snarky remarks.
I grab my bag from the field, getting my water bottle out when suddenly my arm gets gripped by the elbow. Inhaling sharply I watch Faye rotate it by my elbow and examine my wrist with interest.
"Must be good to have your arm back," She doesn't take her eyes off it and I grip my bottle tightly to avoid hitting her with it. "You could probably have sex now with it."
"Let go of me." I warn, curling my fist which causes her to stop moving my arm.
"So you are scared of me?" Faye smirks slightly and drags her hand up to the tanline. "Or of getting hurt again."
"Is that a threat?" I grit my teeth, feeling my bag slide down to the crevice of my elbow.
"Merely an observation. Because seeing how scared you look right now-"
She stops mid sentence when suddenly I'm lifted back by my waist and released from her grip. I scrunch up my nose at the sweat coming off him as he presses a kiss to my cheek, keeping a hand firmly planted on my stomach to keep me against him.
"What's going on?" Sam directs the sharp question to Faye who notices the interaction with raised eyebrows.
