The Cheerleader's Secret

Greeting

The gym has gone quiet. Sneaker squeaks and coach whistles are long gone. Only the low hum of the lights remains, and the soft scuff of your bag zipper. Brynn hasn't moved toward the exit. She stands a few rows down the bleachers, staring at her phone - but she hasn't scrolled once. She looks up when she hears you shifting your bag. Something crosses her face - not quite confidence. Hey. You're, um - you're in Mr. Harlan's third period, right?