Victory Formation

As I walk up to the door of my brother’s mansion, I can already hear music blaring through the thick walls. Looks like being in the NFL has only made Kendrick’s parties bigger.

The second I step inside, I see bodies everywhere, tan and glistening, most of them barely clothed. Half-naked football players lounge on the leather couches with beers in hand. There’s a pool in the back, filled with girls in barely-there bikinis.

“You look lost.”

I turn, and standing before me is Barbie herself. The platinum-blonde is stick-thin and wearing a tube top and workout shorts. She’s looking at me like I’m scum in my cutoff shorts and tank top, my hair in a messy bun on top of my head.

“Excuse me?” I ask.

“If you’re looking for a honky-tonk bar, there’s one about three miles down the road. This is Kendrick Barrington’s home. You certainly don’t belong here.”

“You don’t happen to know where this Kendrick person is, do you? I’m new in town.”

Barbie crosses her arms, her lips curling into a smug smile. “Kendrick doesn’t like new people at his parties,” she says, “You should just leave and come back when you actually have an invitation.”

I arch an eyebrow at her. “An invitation? Funny, I didn’t realize you were in charge of the guest list.”

“I’m Kendrick’s girl, Brittany,” she says smugly.

I hate the name Brittany. Nothing against all the Brittanys in the world, but I’ve had bad experiences with the ones I’ve come into contact with.

I’m honestly surprised Barbie doesn’t notice I look almost identical to Kendrick, with our light-brown hair streaked with auburn highlights and sharp green eyes. Everyone can see it.

Except for Barbie here—apparently all that bleach fried her vision.

“Excuse me…umm…Brittany, but I’m going to go find Kendrick,” I say as I try to step around her. I think I see him in the back playing beer pong.

Brittany’s manicured hand clamps down on my arm, her nails digging just enough to sting. “I said stop,” she hisses.

I whirl on her, yanking my arm free. “What’s your problem, Brittany? Trying to start something? Because trust me, sweetheart, I can bring all the honky-tonk energy you think I left back in Alabama right into this party.”

Her smile is icy. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m used to women coming after my man.”

I step into her space, so close I can smell the chemical bleach in her hair. “Your man? Please. If you’re that insecure, that’s your issue—not mine.”

We’re chest-to-chest now. A few heads are turning. I’m ready to throw down when suddenly I’m lifted clean off the floor, scooped into a pair of strong arms.

“Put me down!” I shout.

The gigantic bear of a man doesn’t stop until we’re in another room, away from the gawking crowd. I turn, ready to smack the life out of him, but then I see who it is—Gabriel Underwood. Kendrick’s best friend.

And damn if he doesn’t look even better than I remembered—taller, broader, all carved muscle and a grin that could melt steel.

Gabriel recently got traded to California, and now he’s on Kendrick’s team. We were all in high school together, and then at the University of Alabama. Kendrick the golden-boy quarterback, Gabriel the lightning-fast wide receiver, and me, the cheerleader on the sidelines, stealing glances.

I’d always had a crush on Gabriel, but to him I was just the kid sister. A shame really, because standing this close, I can’t help but think we might’ve been fire together. I bet we could have been good together, in and out of the sheets.

Gabriel chuckles, shaking his head. “Whit, you must’ve set a new speed record for getting into trouble.”

I cross my arms, glaring up at him. “What can I say? Trouble seems to find me.”

“Or maybe you go looking for it,” he teases.

“Good thing I’ve got you to bail me out then, huh?” I shoot back, only half-teasing.

His grin fades into something softer as his gaze lingers on me a second too long. “Yeah, Whit. Always.”

Gabriel looks me over. I mean, I know I don’t look the freshest after that drive, but why’s he staring? Finally, he speaks. “Damn, Whit. You get any more beautiful, and I’m going to have to take you for myself.”

I stare at him, my heart racing. The way his eyes roam over me leaves me breathless. I wonder if I’ve been wrong all these years. Could Gabriel actually want me too?

I open my mouth, ready to say something, but the door bursts open and we’re interrupted by Malibu Barbie herself.

Brittany struts in with my brother in tow, her manicured claws sunk into his arm. She’s wearing that smug look like she can’t wait for Kendrick to toss me out on my ass.

“Hells bells. She finally made it!” he says. Then he cups his mouth with his hands and hollers, “Gabriel! It’s time for the smash and bash!”

I look at Malibu Barbie.

“Oh, shit. You might have been right, Barbs. I don’t belong here.”

As I turn to run, my brother grabs me from the back, and Gabriel grabs me from the front for the smash and bash. They crush me between them in a group hug that makes my eyes feel like they are about to pop out of my head.

“About time you made it, Whit. I’m so glad you’re here. I missed you,” Kendrick says, squeezing me tighter.

“Kendrick, I—can’t—breathe.”

“Too bad. We haven’t gotten to the bash part yet.”

I feel Gabriel pick me up and bash me to the floor. He always does the bash part, but he never lets me fall too hard. This time, though, I get chill bumps as Gabriel hovers over me, looking me up and down. He leans forward and whispers in my ear.

“I hope this isn’t the last time we get this close. Damn.”

He helps me up, and then Kendrick leads me back to the party.

“Everyone! I’d like for you to meet my sister, Whitley Barrington! Anyone touches her, and they’re dead!”

I elbow Kendrick in the stomach, and he holds up his hands.

“Okay! If anyone touches her without my permission, they’re dead!”

For some reason, I look back toward Gabriel. He is staring at me hard. He has this look in his eyes I can’t quite understand.