Page 18 of Falling Into You

The first freshman had not been loud enough at the chant, but his dance moves had made it clear he’d been taking dance probably since he was a zygote. The second freshman had asked to restart the music no fewer than five times and could not remain on the beat.

Now Gordon Goldschmidt, whom Jacob used to catch frogs with in his backyard when they were in grade school, was finishing up his audition. He wasn’t great but he also wasn’t terrible, Jacob had to admit. And he was at least sturdy enough that he could maybe do a stunt with Rory without killing her.

As Gordon wrapped up the dance portion, arms raised overhead in a V, Jacob’s heart pounded beneath every inch of his skin and in his eyeballs. What was he even doing here? He was not meant to be a cheerleader. He ran the mile in under six minutes. Sprinted the four hundred in forty-nine flat. Had been named to all-county soccer two years running. He was supposed to be on a soccer field right now, not listening to the last strains of some Sabrina Carpenter song fade into the air while people whooped and clapped.

“Thanks, Gordon! Great job!” Rory announced. Then she cleared her throat and looked down at the papers on the table in front of her, as if she didn’t know there was only oneperson left. As if she was wishing Jacob might change his mind. Or better yet, disappear.

Maybe he should just throw it. Do what she expected and put on a high-pitched voice and torpedo any chance he had at making the squad. He’d still be fulfilling the bet. And then he could tell Coach he’d tried out and just hadn’t made it. Let Gordon be on the squad. His rhythm wasn’t the best and he was a little noodle-armed (he’d learned that term from Willow), but Rory could whip him into shape.

Then she looked up, locked eyes with him, and said, “You’re next, Reilly.”

From her voice it was clear: This was a challenge. Jacob’s hackles went up. He never backed down from a challenge.

He strode to the center of the mats. The whispering in the corner intensified. He was pretty sure someone giggled. From the corner of the room, Stuart DaCosta eyed him up and down. His cast-covered leg was up on a chair, and his crutches leaned against the wall. Somehow, seeing him there added gravity to the situation. Stuart’s season was over, and someone here was going to take his place. Suddenly, even though he barely knew Stuart, Jacob realized he didn’t want to let him down.

“You can start whenever you’re ready,” Rory said, lacing her fingers together in front of her on the table. Her brown eyes sparked as she looked him over, her gaze lingering doubtfully on his beat-up Nikes. She looked especiallybeautiful when she was underestimating him.

There was a sharp whistle from the crowd, one he recognized as Willow’s. He looked over at her, and she tilted her chin down, leveling him with aDon’t screw this upglare.

That was it. If there’d been any doubt in his mind about what he should do, this reminder of Willow’s presence had sealed it. There was no way he was going to throw this audition in front of his little sister—the very one who had spent two hours coaching him the day before. He may have been a serial jokester, but he still knew when it was time to set an example.

Jacob took a deep breath and began the chant. He kept his eyes on Willow because he knew that if he looked at literally anyone else, he’d screw up.

“J! A! C! K! S!” He clapped along with each shouted letter. “Let’s go, Jacks!”

Arm thrust overhead in a fist, he made sure his elbow was straight.

He repeated the line again, this time walking along the front of the mat, trying to get the crowd he had gathered for this very purpose to cheer with him. Willow had told him this was essential—the whole point of the cheerleader was tolead cheers.She’d said that if he could infect the crowd with his Lumberjack spirit, he’d be golden. None of the other hopefuls had moved from the center of the gym during their chants, and no one had responded to them from the crowd.

“J! A! C! K! S!Let’s go, Jacks!”

This time, Willow and her friends joined in. Rory raised her eyebrows. Carlos smirked. They knew what he was trying to do. But they weren’t giving in. Well, good for them. Little did they know, Jacob Reilly was not one to give up easily. Also, he had no shame. He could do this all day long.

“J! A! C! K! S!Let’s go, Jacks!”

Now a few more people joined in—mostly the JV soccer kids, who probably just wanted his approval. Still, it was something.

“Come on!J! A! C! K! S!Let’s go, Jacks!”

On the fifth try, Malia chanted with him. On the sixth, the yearbook kids joined in. And on the seventh, he turned around to face the cheer squad members in the corner, and they all started chanting as well. He ended his chant portion with a herkie jump, which Willow had taught him, and Rory finally broke. She cracked up laughing and applauded. Jacob wouldn’t have been able to wipe the grin off his face if he’d tried, but he didn’t try. Because cheerleaders also smiled.

It felt pretty good, getting a room full of people to shout with him.

“Okay, okay, everyone calm down,” Rory said when Jacob was done. “Let’s see if he can dance.”

The music started. Jacob basically blacked out as he executed the moves. He could hear himself counting in his head—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight and one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight—and could only hope his body was doing the right things on the right counts—kick, hop, high V, low V, kick, spin, lunge, together....

Everyone applauded when he finished, but he couldn’t have told anyone whether he’d done what he was supposed to do. He was just glad it was over. And his arms were in a high V, just like Gordon’s had been at the end of the routine, so that seemed like a positive sign.

“Good job, man,” Carlos said as Rory and Layla leaned together to whisper. “You can sit.”

“Actually, I have one more skill I’d like to show you,” Jacob said. “I think it’s pertinent to the job.”

Rory looked up at that. “Oh, here we go. I knew you wouldn’t be able to get through this without some kind of prank.”

Jacob’s face heated, irked. “It’s not a prank. Rory, if you would join me on the mat, please?” he said confidently.

She looked at him warily, then glanced at Layla. “Um... that’s a no.”