I felt him staring at me, though I tried to ignore that sensation, as well.
"Is that hard, seeing her dancing with the team while you do all the work behind the scenes?"
I looked at him now, wondering if he was trying to be mean. But his eyes were wide with innocence and something else...like he actually wanted to know the answer.
"A little. But I'm really proud of her, too." I was lying, of course. It was more than a little tough. But I was keeping my promise to the vampire council. No more dancing. And Keisha was a good dancer and worked hard as an alternate. She and Vicki both deserved to get to dance with the Charmers.
After a long, uncomfortable minute, he said, "So, what are we doing here?"
Grateful for the change in subject, I explained how to work the sound system, showing him the MegaVox's two headsets with microphones, one for the jam box and one for Mrs. Daniels to wear so she could call out directions to the team from the bleachers.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Daniels and the rest of the Charmers arrived. The director chatted with her dancers for a couple minutes then climbed into her usual spot at the top row of the metal bleachers.
As soon as Mrs. Daniels was seated, I stood up. The director liked me to hurry and get to her for our pre-practice meetings. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Try to save the flirting for after practice, or you'll tick off Mrs. Daniels."
He grinned up at me. "Good to know. I'll try to contain myself."
He'd probably make a beeline for the nearest Charmer as soon as I walked away. No telling how many of them were his exs. And how many more were soon to be.
The week passed smoother than I'd hoped for, though everything Tristan did seemed to have both advantages and disadvantages. He asked to be in charge of fetching the ice bags toward the end of each practice. Probably so he could play knight in shining armor for the injured dancers. But at least neither I nor my loaner managers had to deal with Dylan in the field house for a few days.
Tristan also liked to stand close to me and watch my every move while I wrapped strained knees, ankles and shin splints at the end of each practice. Either he enjoyed how the girls blushed from his nearness, me included, or he was gunning for my job. At least he was helpful, handing me things from my trainer bag when I requested them, though his fingers managed to brush mine every single time. I was starting to get used to wearing goose bumps from head to toe now.
Unfortunately, the temporary managers still hadn't completely settled down around him, which was becoming a problem. The two freshmen giggled and whispered a lot more now, which grated on my nerves. So I had to keep finding more things for them to do. The charming smiles he occasionally sent their way didn't help, either.
By Thursday afternoon, I had to pull him aside. "Could you please stop smiling at my loaners?"
"Uh, your who?"
I jerked my head in the freshmen girls' direction. "You know, the girls from the front office? The ones you've kept giggling for days now?"
He looked sincere in his confusion. But how could he possibly have missed the effect his smiles had on them? "I was just being nice to them."
"Well, would you quit it already? It makes them..." I waved a hand at the two giggling girls a few yards away on the track. "It's getting beyond annoying."
"So you want me to be rude instead?"
"No. Just try to be more, I don't know, big brotherly."
"Yes, ma'am, Miss Savannah," he said, his fake salute making me fight the urge to giggle myself.
Tristan
I hadn't expected to feel much while watching the Jacksonville Indians football team play without me that Friday night at the Tomato Bowl in downtown Jacksonville.
But it stung. A lot.
As I sat beside Savannah in the bleachers in my new escort uniform of a long-sleeve button-up denim shirt and khaki slacks, I remembered how it felt at the start of a game. The adrenaline rushing through my veins. Suiting up in my protective gear and uniform like a warrior readying for battle. The excited roar of the crowd, and knowing they were all yelling for me and my team.
Second quarter was worse. I'd been assigned to escort one of the Charmers officers. As we followed the line of escorts and officers to the visitor bleachers on the other side of the field, I could feel my shoulders and neck steadily knotting up. The tiny blond senior clinging to my arm was cute and sweet. But she wasn't who I wanted at my side. I gritted my teeth and glanced across the field toward the home bleachers.
Just in time to see Savannah returning to the Charmers section with what looked like a box lid full of foam cups.
Heat raced over my skin, and I had to work not to growl. She shouldn't be fetching for the dancers. She was too nice for her own good.
Most girls wouldn't be so helpful all the time, or put up with half the crap she did. All night tonight, I'd had to listen to Charmers whispering, "Miss Savannah, do you have some hairpins?", "Miss Savannah, do you have any boot polish?", "I have a run in my tights, Miss Savannah. Do you have any fingernail polish?" And on and on and on. How could she take the constant neediness? Why didn't these girls bring their own emergency supplies?
I kept expecting Savannah to get onto them for forgetting so much stuff, or at least tell them she didn't have whatever they were requesting. Yet she never once frowned or hesitated to help them. One girl had even forgotten her hat and lived too far outside of town to get it, so Savannah had to leave the Tomato Bowl, drive two miles over to the high school and then walk around alone on a dark campus to find a spare.
Which didn't exactly help my mood. She should have told me where she was going. I could have fetched the stupid hat for them, or at least gone with her and made sure she was okay.
Either she was a doormat, or she was too brave for her own good. I couldn't decide which. One thing I did know...she'd rather be out on that field at halftime in the limelight with the rest of the dancers. She'd tried to hide it, acting busy with prepping wraps and ice bags for the dancers who needed them after performing. But I'd caught the pure longing in her eyes when she'd thought no one was looking.
So why wasn't she a dancer? Was it because she couldn't dance well enough to make the team? It couldn't be for religious reasons. Bethany Brookes had told me earlier this week that everyone had to try out for the Charmers before they could apply to be managers. Including Savannah.
Even if she was the world's worst dancer, she still didn't have to be the Charmers head manager. She could do something else with her life, something that took far less time, energy and patience. Was she aiming for sainthood? Didn't she ever get tired of helping others? Didn't she ever want something for herself for a change, instead of always doing what others wanted her to do?