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Ray knew more than anyone on the team, and it took far less than a jump and a leap to come to the conclusion that it wouldn't be long before they were all on the same page. Rosalie realized her mistake the following day when Joanna dropped into the seat beside Rosalie during lunch, and Ray was there to stare suggestively at them for the rest of the table to see. Rosalie shook her head discretely at Ray, the horror making it feel like her tongue was swelling like a balloon in the back of her throat. The team didn't need to know the specifics of how Rosalie made Joanna complacent.

Joanna rose an eyebrow at Ray, who wiggled her eyebrows back. Ray, the one who Rosalie could never be sure where she got her gossip, was just now wondering if she and Joanna were about to succumb to that sentence. They'd be gossip before Rosalie could even blink.

Joanna leaned towards Rosalie. "Why's Ray staring at me like that?" she whispered, not as discretely as she likely assumed. Rosalie closed her eyes and willed her desire to scream to fade.

"It's nothing," Rosalie insisted, taking the bun off her sandwich. She tore her lettuce into shreds and busied herself with devouring every last bite. She couldn't talk if she was eating.

Joanna perched a foot up on the bench and wrapped an arm around it. She dunked a chicken nugget in barbecue sauce. The cafeteria was covered in posters for Homecoming, and as she looked around at them all, coloring the otherwise pale white concrete bricks, Rosalie made a cutting gesture at Ray to silently plead that she cut it out. Ray stuck her tongue out in response.

Practice was only worse.

As co-captain, Ray was eager to partner everyone up before Rosalie could even open her mouth to argue. As such, Rosalie wound up partnered with Joanna for stretching and passing practice. Rosalie glowered at Ray from over Joanna's back. Ray winked at her as Joanna reached for her toes and Rosalie pushed her forward. When it was Rosalie's turn, she folded forward and draped her hands over her ankles, only to be shoved from behind by Joanna.

"C'mon, Killer, you can do better than that," Joanna said.

"I'm not flexible," Rosalie insisted with a groan, forehead pressed to her knees. "Consequences of having tight muscles."

"Let's do the thing where we hold hands," Joanna said, and Rosalie nearly squeaked. Instead, she choked on her saliva as Joanna crawled through the grass in front of her and plopped down so that the flats of her feet pressed up against Rosalie's. "Let's go, Killer," she said, waving her hands at Rosalie.

Rosalie stared at her in alarm before reluctantly slapping her hands over Joanna's and letting her pull every goddamn muscle in Rosalie's arms forward over their joined shoes. Rosalie's spine popped, and after the stretch was over, she flopped back into the grass all loosey-goosey and vividly aware that she had just held hands with Joanna. Granted it was for a stretch, but still!

Scrimmages went better than expected that day, if... Ray shooting Rosalie suggestive grins was considered "better than expected." Rosalie couldn't remember the last time Ray teased her over a guy before—Sami was always there for that.

At the end of practice, Joanna left the field with Brynn at her side. Brynn slung an arm around Joanna's shoulders, tugging at a strand of her blue hair and Joanna's red hair. She asked what Joanna would think if she died her hair orange, but Rosalie's mind faded out of focus around then. There was a notification on her phone when she arrived at her locker, from Jamie, asking if she'd want to stop by his house to try the dress on.

She texted back her affirmation and took her sweet time changing into proper clothes. The boys tended to get off practice before them since they started slightly later in the stadium field that day, so she had some time to kill. Maybe she'd work on Anatomy while she waited—

"You should ask Joanna to drive you home," Ray whispered from beside her, and raised her eyebrows at Rosalie from around the edge of her locker door. "I'm serious."

"Yeah, and so am I. I'm going over to Jamie's tonight," Rosalie said, and it earned a snort from down the bench. She looked and found Jordan laughing. "What?"

"Sorry—I just think it's funny that you're going to Homecoming with Jamie-Lee," she confessed. The other sophomores agreed, giggling. "He's so funny. He's in my AP Bio class. The teacher can't stand him."

"It's not that funny," Rosalie muttered, stuffing her arms through the holes of her shirt.

"Sure it is. I mean, he's such a goofball and you're so... not," one of them said. "No offense. Like, you're funny but you're sophisticated about it."

Jordan lifted two hands up as if weighing them. She pointed to Rosalie and raised one hand. "High comedy. And Jamie's low comedy. You see what I mean? They don't really mesh."

"Well, I'm not planning on dating him," Rosalie cried, voice pitched. Jordan grinned at her and went back to slipping her athletic shorts off in favor of her school slacks.

Rosalie turned back to her locker, frowning, and shoved her dirty clothes into her athletic bag. She'd need to wash them when she got home—a massive grass stain painted the ass of her soccer shorts. As soon as she had her backpack straps on and her locker locked, Ray looped an arm around her shoulders and coaxed her out of the locker room.

"So, where's this date gonna be?" she asked.

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "I don't know, alright? We've barely talked about it yet," she whined. "Can you stop mentioning it? You've been annoying all of today."

"Have I really?" Ray said, but didn't seem at all offended by it. "I'm just excited, that's all. Ice skating?"

"No. I don't even know how to ice skate," Rosalie whined.

"Walk through one of the monument parks."

"Fuck no. Most were founded by old, racist white men and I'm sure neither of us are about that life," she confessed, shaking her head. "It'll probably just be a movie or something."

Ray went on suggesting date ideas, and Rosalie deflected all of them without realizing how easy it was for Joanna to hear from the locker room as she finished lacing up her Converse.

***

"Do you live at Jamie's house or something?" Rosalie asked Lennie as the three of them climbed into his blue Maserati and left the parking lot. She leaned over the center console to raise and eyebrow at Lennie, and then at Jamie, who sat in the passenger's seat.

"It's up for debate," Jamie said. "I mean, the guest room is always pretty empty."

"Yeah, because I clean it," Lennie muttered.

"Also, I could have sworn I asked you to back off. So why am I now sitting in the back seat of your car?" Rosalie said, leaning back. Lennie shifted his rearview mirror so that he could scowl at Rosalie. Rosalie rose her eyebrows at him. "Well?"

"I don't have a car," Jamie explained. "And also we haven't decided what group we're going with yet. Len wants you to come with the soccer guys."

"Excuse me?" she laughed, staring at Lennie's perfect doe eyes through the mirror. Lennie turned his eyes back onto the road, turning left at the intersection.

As he arced the wheel there, he said, "Or we combine dinner groups."

"Whoa, no, too many people," Rosalie said with a wave of her hands.

"It'd just be the senior soccer guys and whoever your usual Homecoming group is," Lennie explained.

"Since when were you plotting my Homecoming plans?"

"Since he's done the same for me every year," Jamie sighed, turning to face Lennie with a grin. "Isn't that right, Len?"

"Stop it," Lennie groaned.

"And my Homecoming group is usually just Ray Hartley, Sami Griffin, and Juliana Lane," Rosalie explained. She picked at the polished wood paneling on the door handle and sighed. "But Sami's transferring tomorrow so I don't know."

"If you want you could say Griffin's your date and get him into the dance," Jamie offered.

"No, I think he already has a date. It's just a matter of his parents not knowing," she explained.

"Why's he transferring? Did something happen?" Lennie asked, and the look on Rosalie's face was enough for him to apologize for even asking.

Rosalie put her forehead to the window and sighed. "And then there's Alyssa. She's going with Blake Miles, so I kinda feel like I need to babysit her..."

"You're kidding," Lennie said. "Please tell me you're shitting me."

"Nah, she's telling the truth," Jamie said. Lennie stopped at a stoplight and twisted around to stare at Jamie, who gave an innocent shrug in reply. "What? We were making out and I asked if she wanted to go to Homecoming and she said Blake asked her over Facebook."

Rosalie already knew she was second-best, but Jamie saying it out loud had her rolling her eyes to mask the hurt of it. Of course Jamie wouldn't have asked her to Homecoming had Alyssa not been taken.

"And you didn't think to mention that to me until now?" Lennie whined, pulling into Jamie's driveway.

"What? I knew you'd act like this," Jamie complained, hopping out of the passenger's seat at the first feasible opportunity. Lennie was out of the car shortly behind him, still badgering him about not mentioning Blake Miles before.

As Rosalie exited the vehicle, she was reminded of how Blake Miles got down on his knees in front of Joanna and declared her the most beautiful specimen alive. She snorted at the thought, clasping a hand over her mouth as Jamie turned back to her and asked what she was laughing at.

"Nothing—It's just—" she started, and giggled uncontrollably. "We saw Blake at Adams last week. He hit on Joanna and it was the funniest thing I've ever seen," she confessed. "She said she was gay and he said, 'Incredible' before asking for her number."

"That sounds like him," Lennie muttered.

"Have they been talking?" Jamie asked, and Rosalie shrugged. "Well, ask her! Could you imagine if I got Miles to help my mom out?"

"No," Lennie said, and despite the fact that he wasn't even a Berry, managed to deflect every attempt Jamie made at convincing him to let Blake Miles model his mother's in-progress work.

Rosalie didn't think that she'd have to deal with Blake Miles until Homecoming, but she was sorely wrong. It was difficult to forget the fact that Miss Berry designed the clothes Blake Miles was photographed in, and not only that, but after dinner at the Berry residence, studying until midnight, and waking up exhausted on yet another game day, she'd have to face him again in the least likely place.

Sami was given his car privileges back, and so that morning he pulled into her driveway at seven o' clock sharp in order to make it to both Bradshaw, and his new school. Rosalie pranced down the steps of her house before halting at the sight of Sami through the windshield. He looked absolutely wretched, and the blood red color of his uniform blazer did little to improve that.

Rosalie's jaw dropped further and further until it was in her lap, sitting in the passenger's seat. Sami shook his head, hand to his forehead. "I know. I know."

"Why does Adams have to keep butting into my personal life!" Rosalie cried, plucking at his blazer. He shrugged her away.

"Stop it..." he moaned.

"It looks awful! I hate that shade of red!" she cried, picking at it again. "You look like you're two steps away from a funeral march."

"I know," he cried, throwing his arms down. "You don't need to remind me! Let's just get going."

"So you are going to Adams then?" she said. "I hoped your dad wasn't that much of an ass."

"Yeah, well, if your mom hadn't sent you to Bradshaw I would have gone to Adams freshmen year," he sighed, pulling out of the driveway. "Can we just drop it? And I'm gonna ditch the blazer before we get to Bradshaw or risk vandalism of my car. I don't want to end up like Lennie's Maserati."

Rosalie gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and helped at the stoplight when Sami started wiggling out of the blazer. They promised to text each other throughout the day now that Sami's phone was back in his possession, but Isaiah's number was deleted, and his messages monitored by his father.

Rosalie wanted so terribly to be on Mr. Griffin's bad side, if only so he would know exactly how she felt about the situation. Some part of her wished that she might be able to convince him to back off Sami's love life, but that just wasn't the case. It seemed to even her mother wanted to talk to Mr. Griffin about it, and Rosalie didn't blame her. It didn't stop her from resenting being so quiet on the matter.

Isaiah was waiting at the school steps, and jumped to his feet the instant Sami's car came within view. Sami parked the car and left it running as they both exited the vehicle and met Isaiah on the sidewalk. Isaiah crashed into Sami and Rosalie, arms around their shoulders.

"So, big day, huh? What's the verdict?"

"I'm a Lion now," Sami said with a little claw of his hand and a monotonous, "Roar."

"He's not kidding," Rosalie said, addressing Isaiah's shock. "The red blazer's in the backseat."

"Oh my God," Isaiah gasped, only to smile a second later. "Dude, this means we are rivals! Oh my God!"

Sami laughed. "I'm glad someone's happy about it. I should get going though. Have to drive across the county."

Sami roped them into a group hug. He gave them both a squeeze, and didn't quite make it off the curb when a striking red convertible pulled up in front of his car with the speed of someone who didn't fear death. Sami stuttered to a halt, narrowly avoiding getting his foot flattened under the tire. Rosalie stopped to stare at the flaming red hair in the passenger's seat, and the familiar model in the driver's side.

When the man emerged from the driver's seat, sunglasses pushed up into his perfectly styled black curls, Rosalie's jaw dropped. Joanna stepped out, backpack slinging over her shoulder. Her tie was just as haphazardly applied as ever, but Rosalie was too distracted by the Adams boys' soccer captain to even deal with that debacle.

Blake Miles turned his eyes up to the school as he walked around the back of his car to address Sami. "Sorry, man—didn't mean to startle you there," Blake apologized.

Sami was stunned, and laid a hand over the spot on his shoulder where Blake briefly grazed him. He turned back to stare at Isaiah, who was checking his chin for drool because damn did Blake look fine in an Adams blazer or what?

Blake approached Joanna, arms out. "So glad you finally called. I've been waiting to hear your voice for ages."

"It's been a week, Miles. A week," Joanna said, leaning back to raise her eyebrows at him. He stood still, arms out, waiting for her to accept the hug. "Fine."

Blake was thrilled, smiling over the top of Joanna's head to where Isaiah and Rosalie watched on, jaws hanging loose. He halted, eyes stuck on Rosalie as he pulled back from Joanna, hand to his heart. "Is this who I think it is? The Knights' captain?"

"That is she," Joanna chimed in, sliding in front of him. She put her hands to his chest and started pushing him back to the car. "Off you go—"

Blake stopped again at Sami, this time taking into account his uniform that was clearly not Bradshaw, but was neutral enough to slip past anyone's eye—except for an Adams peer.

"I don't believe we've properly met," Blake said, reaching a hand to Sami as Joanna continued shoving him towards the driver's seat. She pushed her back into Blake's and tried to get him to move, but he was stuck staring at Sami, who was blushing all the way to the tips of his ears. "What brings you here?"

"Excuse me?" he laughed. "I, uh—was dropping off a friend."

"It seems we have that in common—"

"Miles, move your ass!" Joanna demanded, opening the driver's door for him. She snatched him by the arm and successfully dislodged him from where he'd been too busy flustering Sami to think of the time ticking away.

"Look for me at school! My name is—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know what your name is," Sami said, irritated. He balled his fists up at his sides as he blew a kiss to Joanna and then the rest of them.

"I'll see you all again, my loves!" he declared, starting up the engine. He flicked his sunglasses back on, and was off.

Joanna marched back onto the curb as Blake's convertible faded from view, but never their minds. Rosalie put a hand to her arm and pinched herself to ensure she wasn't dreaming. Joanna bypassed Sami and Isaiah and went straight for her arm, dragging her away. Rosalie tripped over her feet and stumbled after Joanna up the steps of Bradshaw, looking frantically between Joanna and the most famous individual she ever witnessed in person.

"Was that—? Why were you hanging out with Blake?" Rosalie squeaked over the sound of Isaiah calling out to Sami, "Bet you ten they're banging!" Sami threw the remains of his breakfast over the hood of his car at Isaiah.

"I had to pick his brain about something last night," she explained. "I would have just texted him, but he's more of a face-to-face kind of guy—and not in a weird-Tinder-hookup kind of way to get in girls' pants."

Rosalie was in shock until the moment Joanna dragged her down onto the ledge surrounding the statue. She pulled a coffee tumbler out of her backpack and chugged a good deal of it before pulling away with a satisfied gasp.

"Who are you going on a date with?" she asked.

Rosalie was already staring at Joanna like she was mad, and that question just threw her for a loop. She laughed, only to be pegged with a flat look from Joanna. She choked a little and cleared her throat, looking out at the parking lot.

"Uh, nobody," Rosalie said, and added in a flushed whisper, "Just you, I guess."

"Then what were you talking about with Ray yesterday?" Joanna asked.

"About you. Ray knows now," she confessed. She couldn't look beyond the tattoo on Joanna's wrist. "For someone as observant as you... God. Ray was staring at you all yesterday at lunch."

"I thought I just had something on my face."

"What? No, your face was fine."

"Aw, thanks, Killer."

"But what does this have to do with Blake Miles?" she asked, completely lost. They steps were starting to fill with students climbing up to the school gates, but no one seemed to spare them a second look now. Those of the student body who heard about Joanna's shenanigans were more interested in what fights she was starting rather than the girl she was courting.

Joanna studied her with a blank expression before shaking her head, scoffing under her breath. "Jesus," she muttered, rubbing a black-nailed finger against her brow. "I was asking him for advice. I'm not exactly a slut like he is so I don't know how to do this properly."

"Do what?"

"I've only dated one girl before," she confessed. "For all the flirting I do I haven't been able to hang onto them long like Blake does. I swear the guy's got twenty girlfriends. You should see his Tinder profile."

"Can I?" she asked, and Joanna was already pulling his profile up on her phone.

They scooched together on the stone ledge and leaned in to see Blake's profile. He was probably the only guy in