I shrug. “I’ve heard worse and I don’t really care.”

“You shouldn’t. Next week we’ll be surrounded by a whole team of slutty football players.”

“I’ll have to up my game, then.” I don’t mind a challenge.

When we arrive at the student section, Jordan turns us away.

“You can’t sit with us,” she announces.

I roll my eyes. “Why, because I’m too trashy for your precious bleachers?”

“That, too.” She smirks. “But also because you’re wearing the wrong colors.”

I look up at the mass of students and realize she’s right. They’re all situated so that the color of their T-shirts spells out an A in gold against a black background. I’m wearing a white jersey and Val’s wearing a cropped gray knit sweater. Jordan’s in a black catsuit, and the only thing missing from her latex dominatrix gear is a whip and a chair.

“I guess we missed the memo.” Because there had to be one, seeing as how everyone else fits perfectly into Jordan’s scheme. I’m reluctantly impressed. It can’t be easy to wrangle a couple hundred students into wearing color-coordinated shirts depending on where you’re sitting on the stands.

“Maybe you should check the Astor snap stories once in a while.” She turns with a swish of her glossy hair.

I didn’t even know there was an Astor snapchat account.

“Come on,” Val says, tugging my arm. “We’ll sit with the parents.”

We find a place at the top where we can eat popcorn and pretend to cheer for the Riders. “What on earth is Jordan wearing?” I giggle. “Is she a part-time S&M Mistress?”

“Nah.” Val throws a few kernels of popcorn into her mouth. “The dance team performs at half-time before the band so I’m guessing that’s their costume.”

She’s right. When halftime comes around, Jordan and her squad put on a routine with so much boob and ass shaking that I feel like I should slip some of Daddy G’s business cards in their gym bags in case their trust funds ever dry up.

“They’d get at least the five dollar tips,” I whisper to Val behind my hand.

“Only five dollars? I’d want at least twenty per dude before I’d strip.”

“What are you talking about? You’d strip for free,” I tease. Val has told me before that she has exhibitionist tendencies. When we go to the Moonglow club’s eighteen-and-over night, Val makes me dance in the cages suspended from the ceiling.

“True. But I wouldn’t mind getting paid.” She gives me a thoughtful look. “How much did you say you earned while you were working at these clubs?”

“I didn’t. And stripping is a lot different from cage dancing in front of a bunch of hot high school and college guys,” I caution. Most strip clubs reek of desperation and regret and I’m not just referring to the strippers’ dressing room. The guys on the floor waving their singles around over their eight-dollar steak lunches are as needy as the girls on the stage.

Val wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know. It’d be nice to have the extra cash, and you must’ve been making serious bank to be able to support yourself and your mom on it.”

“The money is the only good thing about it. Besides, you wouldn’t want to strip around here. Think if someone saw you and then you had to have classes with him or something. That’d be a hundred different kinds of awkward.”

She sighs. “It was just an idea.”

I feel a stab of sympathy. I know that Val’s status as the poor relation really bugs her. I wish I could give her part of my stash—it’s not like I need it—but she’s not the kind of person who’d accept a handout. She’d see it as charity, which she already has to accept from her aunt and uncle.

“How about I hire you to be my bodyguard? Because everyone’s looking at me right now like they want to murder me. Especially that one over there.” I jerk my head toward the second row of the student section, where a familiar golden-haired girl keeps swiveling around to frown at me.

“Ha. Abby wouldn’t hurt a flea. She’s too passive. Do you think she wears that Eeyore expression when she comes?”

I slap a hand over my mouth to muffle my shout of laughter.

But it’s true. Reed’s ex is pale, quiet, and mild-mannered, as opposite from me as you can get. Someone said that Abby reminds them of Reed’s mom. At one time that made me nervous as hell, because Reed adored his mom. These days, I don’t give a crap about trying to impress Reed Royal.

Abby obviously still does, though. And she obviously views me as competition, because she won’t stop staring at me. If she’d asked, I could’ve given her a pretty good tip about how to win Reed over. First and foremost, don’t sleep with his brother.

“Did she really hook up with Easton when I was gone?” I ask Val.

“Yup. What an idiot, right? I mean, that’s a surefire way to send Reed running in the opposite direction.” Val purses her lips. “Or wait, maybe not. You made out with Easton and that didn’t scare Reed off.” Then she changes her tune again. “But you’re special. Abby isn’t. No way is Reed getting back together with her now.”

“Even Abby is too good for him,” I grumble. “He deserves to be alone for all of eternity.”

Val snickers.

“Actually, I was really hoping someone would break his legs in the game, but unfortunately it looks like he’s still up and walking around.”

“We could break them.”

“Take a baseball bat to him in the middle of the night?” I say wistfully.

“Sounds like you’ve already got this all planned out.”

“I might’ve fantasized about it a few times,” I admit.

“After we’re done with Reed, can we drive up to State?”

“Obvs. Then we’ll put an ad on Craigslist offering our services to other women. We’ll name our bat ‘Vengeance.’”

“Your bloodthirstiness is turning me on so much right now.”

“Save it for one of the herd,” I tell her. “You have your eye on any of them?”

“No. I’m still considering my options.” Meaning, the only thing she can see right now is Tam. I have the same problem, except my vision is blocked by Reed.