Emily

The auditorium is already chaos.

Not bad chaos. Just... freshman chaos.

Students wander through the crowd carrying campus maps upside down. Parents ask the same questions every five minutes. Someone has already gotten lost despite still being inside the same building.

And orientation hasn't even officially started yet.

You glance down at the volunteer packet in your hands and suppress a sigh.

Ambassador Team Three.

Apparently that includes you.

A voice suddenly cuts through the noise.

"Okay, who took my color-coded schedule?"

You look up.

A tall blonde girl stands behind a folding table buried beneath orientation materials. Her long braid hangs over one shoulder, tied at the end with a blue-and-gold CAU ribbon. She's wearing a white CHEER tank top, black athletic shorts, and the expression of someone trying very hard not to lose patience.

Three nervous freshmen immediately scatter when she looks in their direction.

She notices.

"...I wasn't mad at you."

They somehow walk faster.

The blonde sighs.

Then she spots you.

"Oh, thank God."

Before you can respond, she's already making her way over.

"You're Team Three, right?"

She points at your nametag.

"Please tell me you're Team Three."

You glance down.

"Uh... yeah."

Her shoulders visibly relax.

"Perfect."

A clipboard is suddenly thrust into your hands.

"Congratulations. You're helping me."

You stare at it.

She smiles brightly.

The smile somehow feels dangerous.

"My name's Emily. Cheer captain. Orientation ambassador. Emergency problem solver."

She extends a hand.

"And unless something has gone horribly wrong, we're apparently partners today."

The moment you shake her hand, another volunteer rushes over.

"Emily! The campus tour group is missing six students!"

Emily closes her eyes.

Slowly.

Patiently.

Like a woman who has trained for this exact moment her entire life.

"How do you lose six students?"

"I don't know."

Emily nods once.

"Okay."

A second volunteer appears almost immediately.

"The welcome packets are gone."

Emily turns.

"What do you mean gone?"

"Gone gone."

A third volunteer arrives before she can answer.

"The Dean wants to know if we're ready."

Emily looks briefly toward the ceiling.

For a moment, you wonder if she's silently praying.

Then she takes a deep breath.

When she opens her eyes again, she's smiling.

Professional.

Confident.

Terrifyingly organized.

"Okay."

She points at the first volunteer.

"Find the missing students."

Then the second.

"Find the packets."

Then the third.

"Tell the Dean everything is under control."

All three immediately hurry away.

You blink.

Emily turns back to you.

"...See?"

"You just made all that up."

"Absolutely."

"Is everything under control?"

"No."

"Do you know where the students are?"

"No."

"The packets?"

"No."

You stare at her.

She grins.

Then hooks her clipboard beneath one arm.

"Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"To save orientation."

She starts toward the crowd, already scanning the room for the next problem waiting to happen. Halfway there, she glances back over her shoulder.

"Oh, and fair warning."

Her grin widens.

"If we're working together today, you're probably going to see me boss around half the university."

A beat.

"Try not to be too impressed."

The CAU Athletics Center is unusually loud.

Not because of a game.

Because the cheer squad is practicing.

Music echoes across the gym as athletes run drills on the spring floor. Tumblers flip through the air. Flyers launch into stunts. Coaches shout corrections from the sidelines. The entire building seems to vibrate with motion and energy.

And somehow, right in the middle of it all, Emily Carter is keeping the chaos organized.

The blonde cheer captain stands near center court with a clipboard tucked under one arm, her long braid swinging behind her as she moves from group to group. Every few seconds she calls out instructions, corrections, or encouragement.

"Again."

A group groans.

Emily smiles.

"That wasn't a suggestion."

The group immediately starts over.

Nearby, Tara Bennett catches a flyer and lowers her smoothly to the mat. Maya Lopez is pretending to stretch while very obviously gossiping with two other cheerleaders. Cassidy Mathis sits on the edge of a tumbling mat with a water bottle beside her, laughing at something Maya said.

For a moment, the entire gym seems completely absorbed in practice.

Except Emily.

Because Emily notices everything.

Including you.

Unfortunately.

You hadn't meant to stare.

Maybe you were watching practice. Maybe you were looking for someone. Maybe you were simply passing through.

Whatever the reason, Emily catches you.

Her blue eyes narrow slightly.

Then a mischievous smile appears.

Uh oh.

She says something to another cheerleader and starts walking directly toward you.

The closer she gets, the worse this feels.

When she finally stops in front of you, she folds her arms.

"Enjoying the show?"

You blink.

"What?"

"The cheer squad."

She gestures broadly toward the gym.

"The thing you've been staring at for the last five minutes."

Your brain immediately begins searching for a defense.

Emily waits patiently.

The smile never leaves her face.

Before you can answer, a familiar voice calls from behind her.

"Who's he staring at?"

Maya.

Of course it's Maya.

The brunette has somehow appeared at Emily's shoulder without warning. Her grin is already dangerous.

Emily points at you.

"He got caught."

Maya gasps dramatically.

"Caught?"

She places a hand over her heart.

"By Captain Carter herself?"

Emily nods solemnly.

"The worst possible person."

Maya looks delighted.

From across the gym, Tara glances over.

"You bothering somebody again?"

"I'm conducting an investigation," Emily calls back.

Tara immediately loses interest.

"Sounds boring."

Meanwhile, Cass finally notices the gathering and walks over carrying her water bottle. Her amber eyes move between everyone.

"What's going on?"

Emily answers immediately.

"I caught this one staring."

Cass looks at you.

Then at the squad.

Then back at you.

Her cheeks turn slightly pink.

"Oh."

Maya immediately points at her.

"Oh, he was looking at Cass."

"No he wasn't!"

"He totally was."

"You don't know that!"

Emily raises a hand.

"Let's not jump to conclusions."

A beat.

Then she points at you.

"So."

The captain smile returns.

"Which one was it?"

The entire group suddenly becomes very interested in your answer.

Maya looks excited.

Cass looks mortified.

Tara looks mildly amused.

And Emily?

Emily looks like she's enjoying this far more than she should.

Welcome to the CAU Cheer Squad.

The party is already a mistake.

You realize this approximately thirty seconds after walking through the front door.

Music rattles the walls. The living room is packed shoulder-to-shoulder with students. Someone is attempting karaoke in the kitchen. Someone else is standing on a coffee table. A decorative lamp appears to be missing.

Nobody seems concerned.

Which is somehow the most concerning part.

You weave your way through the crowd, trying not to get hit by an overenthusiastic dancer when a hand suddenly grabs your wrist.

Firmly.

You turn.

And immediately understand that something has gone horribly wrong.

Emily Carter stands in front of you.

The blonde cheer captain is dressed for a night out, but her expression suggests she's coordinating disaster relief rather than attending a party. Her long braid hangs over one shoulder. One hand rests on her hip.

The other is still holding your wrist.

"There you are."

You blink.

"...Hello?"

"I need help."

You glance around.

"Is somebody hurt?"

"No."

"Is there an emergency?"

"Yes."

Emily points toward the crowd.

"The squad."

You immediately understand.

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

She finally releases your wrist and pulls out her phone. A list fills the screen.

CASS — MISSING

MAYA — ACTIVE THREAT

TARA — UNKNOWN

JENNA — FOUND

You stare.

"Did you make a cheerleader tracking system?"

"It was necessary."

"What does 'active threat' mean?"

Emily closes her eyes.

"Maya."

"...Fair."

A loud cheer erupts somewhere upstairs.

Emily sighs.

"The team has a game tomorrow."

"Uh huh."

"I told them this was a quick appearance."

"Uh huh."

"It's been three hours."

"Uh huh."

"And now they've scattered."

You nod.

"That's bad."

Emily points directly at you.

"Exactly."

You point at yourself.

"Why am I involved?"

"Because you're here."

"That's not a reason."

"It's the only reason I need."

Before you can argue further, a familiar voice cuts through the room.

"EMILYYYY!"

Both of you turn.

Maya Lopez is standing on a couch.

For reasons known only to herself, she's wearing somebody else's cowboy hat.

She points dramatically across the room.

"There you are!"

Emily immediately pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Maya."

"Captain!"

"Why are you on a couch?"

"I have important news."

"No."

"I found a mechanical bull."

Emily freezes.

A beat passes.

Then another.

Slowly, she turns toward you.

"We need to leave."

"Immediately."

Maya gasps.

"You haven't even heard the best part!"

Emily is already moving.

Fast.

You follow.

"Where are we going?"

"To stop Maya."

"From what?"

"Whatever she's about to do."

That feels reasonable.

As you disappear into the crowd, another voice reaches you from the back patio.

"Emily!"

Cass.

The redhead sounds distressed.

Emily groans.

"That's Cass."

"How can you tell?"

"Because that's her 'something unexpected happened' voice."

"You can identify different voices of panic?"

"I've been captain for two years."

Fair point.

You find Cass outside sitting in a patio chair, clutching a half-finished soda. The moment she sees Emily, relief floods her face.

"Oh thank goodness."

Emily immediately kneels beside her.

"What happened?"

Cass points upward.

You follow her finger.

A second-story balcony.

Tara stands there with her arms folded, calmly watching the party below.

Emily stares.

"Tara."

"I'm fine."

"Why are you on the roof?"

"It's not the roof."

"Tara."

"It's a balcony."

Emily slowly stands.

Then looks toward the sky.

For a brief moment, she appears to be questioning every decision that led her here.

When she lowers her gaze again, she's already back in captain mode.

She points at you.

"You."

Then at Tara.

"Get her down."

Then at Cass.

"Keep her with you."

Finally, she points back toward the house.

"And I'm going to stop Maya before she discovers whatever terrible idea she's currently sprinting toward."

You open your mouth.

Emily is already walking away.

"Wait—"

"No time."

"You can't just—"

"Yes I can."

"Emily!"

The captain glances back over her shoulder.

For the first time all night, a mischievous smile appears.

"Congratulations."

She points toward the house.

"You're officially assistant captain now."

Then she's gone.

Vanishing into the crowd in pursuit of Maya.

Somewhere inside the house, someone screams:

"SHE ACTUALLY FOUND THE MECHANICAL BULL!"

Emily's voice immediately follows.

"MAYA NO!"

You watch her disappear.

Then look at Cass.

Then at Tara.

Then at the chaos consuming the party.

And suddenly realize something important.

Emily Carter isn't the captain because she's the loudest.

Or the strongest.

Or the most intimidating.

She's the captain because somehow—

Against all odds—

She keeps these idiots alive.

The pep rally has finally ended.

Which, for Emily Carter, means approximately fifteen minutes of peace before the next responsibility appears.

The gym is slowly emptying as students file toward the exits. The cheer squad's performance had gone perfectly—no missed cues, no dropped stunts, no disasters.

By Emily's standards, it was practically a miracle.

Now she's leaning against the edge of the court beside you, a bottle of water in one hand while her long blonde braid hangs over her shoulder. For the first time all afternoon, she actually looks relaxed.

"See?" she says.

"You worried for nothing."

"I wasn't worried."

"You looked worried."

"I looked realistic."

Emily laughs.

"You sound like Tara."

"That's not a compliment."

"It absolutely is."

Nearby, Maya is already taking pictures with freshmen. Cass is enthusiastically signing a little girl's CAU pennant. Tara appears to be carrying three separate equipment bags by herself for reasons nobody understands.

Normal cheer squad behavior.

For once, nobody is on fire.

Nobody is causing problems.

Nobody has climbed onto anything.

Everything is peaceful.

Which is exactly why Emily suddenly freezes.

You notice immediately.

"What?"

Her smile disappears.

"Oh no."

"What?"

"Oh no."

You turn.

A woman is crossing the gym floor toward you.

Tall. Blonde. Perfect posture. Confident stride. Expensive sunglasses pushed onto her head despite being indoors.

She looks like Emily.

Or perhaps Emily looks like her.

The resemblance is impossible to miss.

The woman spots Emily.

Her face lights up.

Then she immediately changes direction and begins marching straight toward the two of you.

Emily closes her eyes.

"No."

The woman waves enthusiastically.

"EMILY!"

Several students turn.

Emily visibly dies inside.

"Oh God."

"You know her?"

"My mother."

"...Oh."

Emily points toward the exit.

"Run."

"What?"

"Run while you still can."

Before you can ask any further questions, the woman reaches you.

She immediately wraps Emily in a hug.

"My baby!"

"Mom."

"You were wonderful!"

"Mom."

"Absolutely wonderful!"

"Mom."

"You looked beautiful."

Emily sighs.

"Hi, Mom."

The woman finally releases her.

Then notices you.

Instantly.

Her eyes narrow.

Dangerously.

Emily sees it happen.

"No."

The woman points.

"Who's this?"

Emily points at you.

"A person."

The woman waits.

Emily waits.

The woman continues waiting.

Emily sighs.

"Mom."

"A person with a name."

Emily pinches the bridge of her nose.

You suddenly understand why Emily drinks so much coffee.

The woman extends a hand.

"I'm Denise Carter."

Her smile is warm.

Her eyes are not.

They're assessing.

Evaluating.

The kind of look that says she spent years judging competitions, reading people, and spotting trouble before it happened.

You shake her hand.

"Nice to meet you."

"You too."

A pause.

Then:

"So."

Emily groans immediately.

"Mom."

"How long have you two been dating?"

"We're not dating."

Denise looks at Emily.

Then at you.

Then back at Emily.

"Hm."

"Mom."

"Interesting."

"We're not dating."

Denise nods.

"Of course."

Another pause.

"Are you planning to date?"

Emily nearly chokes on her water.

"MOM."

Across the gym, Maya's head immediately snaps toward the conversation.

Oh no.

Like a shark catching the scent of blood in the water.

"Oh my God."

She starts walking over.

Fast.

"Mrs. Carter!"

Emily whispers something that sounds suspiciously like a prayer.

Too late.

Maya arrives, grinning dangerously.

"What's happening?"

Denise points at you.

"I'm finding out if these two are dating."

Maya gasps.

"Me too!"

Emily covers her face.

"Maya."

"What?"

"No."

"What?"

"Stop helping."

"I'm helping."

Cass arrives next.

Then Tara.

Because apparently the universe hates Emily.

Within thirty seconds, the entire squad is standing there.

Watching.

Listening.

Judging.

Denise surveys them.

Then smiles.

"Oh good."

Emily immediately knows where this is going.

The look of horror on her face confirms it.

"No."

Denise ignores her.

"Vote."

Emily actually stomps her foot.

"Mom!"

Denise points dramatically between you and Emily.

"Dating?"

Maya's hand shoots into the air.

"YES."

Cass hesitates.

"...Maybe?"

Tara shrugs.

"I thought they already were."

Emily makes a strangled noise.

The gym erupts.

Maya starts laughing.

Cass looks horrified by what she accidentally admitted.

Tara genuinely doesn't understand why everyone is reacting.

And Denise?

Denise looks completely delighted.

Emily turns toward you.

Her face is bright red.

"Please."

A pause.

"Please help me."

For the first time since you've known her, the unshakable captain of the CAU Cheer Squad looks completely overwhelmed.

Not by rival teams.

Not by pressure.

Not by responsibility.

But by one extremely enthusiastic cheer mom.

And judging by Denise Carter's smile...

Things are about to get much, much worse.

The campus is unusually quiet.

At this hour, most students are still asleep. The sidewalks are empty, the air is cool, and morning sunlight filters through the trees lining the main quad, painting long shadows across the brick pathways.

It's peaceful.

Which is exactly why the collision catches both of you completely off guard.

THUMP.

"Oof!"

A blur of blonde hair crashes directly into you.

Momentum carries both of you sideways. You manage to keep your footing—barely.

The other person is less fortunate.

A surprised yelp escapes her as she stumbles backward. You instinctively reach out, catching her arm before she can hit the ground.

For a brief moment, the two of you simply stare at each other.

Blue eyes.

Blonde braid.

Athletic build.

Sweat-dampened white running tank top.

Black athletic shorts.

Emily Carter.

The cheer captain blinks.

Then immediately groans.

"Oh my God."

You release her arm.

"Sorry."

"No, that was completely my fault."

She straightens and brushes a loose strand of hair from her face.

"I was checking my pace."

She holds up her phone.

"And apparently not looking where I was going."

You glance down. The fitness app is still running.

Emily follows your gaze and immediately looks annoyed.

"Eighteen seconds."

"What?"

"I lost eighteen seconds."

You stare.

She stares back.

A beat passes.

Then Emily sighs.

"Sorry."

Another sigh.

"I've spent too much time around competitive athletes."

"You are a competitive athlete."

"Unfortunately."

You can't help laughing.

Emily's expression softens. For the first time since the collision, she actually smiles.

"Fair."

A light breeze catches her braid as she takes a drink from the water bottle clipped to her running belt.

Looking around, she seems to notice the same thing you do.

The campus is still almost empty.

No cheer squad.

No freshmen.

No coaches.

No responsibilities.

Just the two of you.

Which feels oddly rare.

Emily notices it too.

"You know..."

She glances across the quiet quad.

"This might be the first time I've seen campus without having to organize something."

"No clipboard?"

She looks genuinely offended.

"Rude."

"Where is it?"

"It's seven in the morning."

"That's not an answer."

Emily laughs.

Then immediately points a finger at you.

"I own a clipboard."

"There it is."

"I don't carry it everywhere."

"Sure."

"I don't."

"You absolutely do."

The look she gives you suggests she's mentally debating whether she could win this argument through sheer confidence alone.

The answer is probably yes.

Eventually she shakes her head.

"You know, most people apologize after running into someone."

"I did."

"You didn't sound sincere."

"I was distracted by the fact that you were timing yourself."

"I take my training seriously."

"You take everything seriously."

Emily places a hand dramatically against her chest.

"I'll have you know I am fun."

"You scheduled a party rescue operation."

"That was necessary."

"You made a spreadsheet."

"That was also necessary."

You grin.

Emily tries to look annoyed.

Fails.

Then something catches her attention.

She checks her phone.

Her expression immediately changes.

"Oh no."

"What?"

"My run."

"What about it?"

"I stopped moving."

You blink.

Emily looks genuinely distressed.

"I have a route."

"Emily."

"A schedule."

"Emily."

"A goal."

"Emily."

The blonde captain sighs dramatically.

Then points at you.

"This is your fault."

"I got tackled."

"You were standing there suspiciously."

You laugh.

Emily rolls her eyes.

But she's smiling.

For a moment she looks less like the captain of the cheer squad and more like an ordinary college student enjoying a quiet morning.

It's a surprisingly good look on her.

Eventually she takes a step backward.

"I should finish my run."

"Probably."

"Otherwise I'll spend the entire day thinking about those eighteen seconds."

"That sounds unhealthy."

"It absolutely is."

Another grin.

Then she starts jogging backward down the path.

"Try not to stand in the middle of any more sidewalks."

"You ran into me."

"Agree to disagree."

"You literally did."

Emily points at you one last time.

"See you later."

Then she turns and takes off down the path, her long blonde braid swinging behind her as she disappears around the corner.

A few seconds later, her voice echoes back through the quiet morning air.

"And if anyone asks!"

You blink.

"What?"

"It never happened!"

Then she's gone.

Still running.

Still competitive.

And apparently still trying to protect her personal best time from the scandalous loss of eighteen whole seconds.

The Homecoming Dance is in full swing.

Music echoes through the decorated student center ballroom while colored lights drift across the ceiling. Students dance beneath strings of hanging lights, and groups gather around tables to laugh, take pictures, and enjoy one of the biggest nights of the semester.

For most people, Homecoming is about dates.

Or dancing.

Or showing off.

For Emily Carter?

Apparently it's about logistics.

You discover this while searching for something to drink.

The refreshment station sits near the back of the ballroom, stocked with punch bowls, stacks of cups, desserts, and a chocolate fountain that looks suspiciously expensive.

And standing behind it—

Emily Carter.

The captain of the CAU Cheer Squad is wearing an elegant navy-blue dress that perfectly complements her bright blue eyes. Her long blonde hair has been woven into an intricate side braid decorated with tiny gold accents that catch the light whenever she moves.

She looks absolutely stunning.

Unfortunately—

She's counting napkins.

"...ninety-six, ninety-seven..."

You stop.

Emily continues.

"...ninety-eight..."

You blink.

"...ninety-nine..."

She grabs another stack.

"...one hundred."

A satisfied nod.

Then she notices you.

Her expression immediately brightens.

"Oh good."

You already don't like that tone.

Emily points toward a box beneath the table.

"Hold this."

Before you can respond, she's already handing it to you.

You catch it automatically.

"What is this?"

"Cups."

"Why am I holding cups?"

"Because you're standing there."

"That's not how jobs work."

"It's how volunteer work works."

You glance around the ballroom.

"You're volunteering?"

Emily gestures broadly toward the room.

"Who do you think organized half of this?"

You look around again.

Suddenly everything makes sense.

The decorations.

The schedules.

The signs.

The organization.

The terrifying efficiency.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Emily folds her arms.

"You know what Maya is doing?"

"No."

"Dancing."

"Cass?"

"Dancing."

"Tara?"

"Dancing."

You nod.

"And you?"

Without a word, Emily raises her clipboard.

A clipboard.

At Homecoming.

You can't stop yourself.

"You brought a clipboard."

Emily looks genuinely offended.

"It's important."

"To Homecoming?"

"Absolutely."

You stare at her.

She stares back.

A beat passes.

Then she laughs.

The captain finally relaxes a little.

"Okay, maybe not."

"Maybe?"

"Definitely not."

You set the box down while Emily takes a sip from a cup of punch. Then she glances toward the dance floor.

For a moment, her smile fades.

Not completely.

Just enough.

You notice.

"So."

Emily looks back at you.

"So?"

"Why are you working refreshments?"

She immediately gestures toward the room.

"Because somebody has to."

"No."

Her eyes narrow.

"No?"

"That's not the answer."

Emily sighs.

The kind of sigh that says you've successfully identified something she'd hoped not to talk about.

A few seconds pass before she finally shrugs.

"I was busy."

"Busy?"

"Practice."

"Emily."

"Games."

"Emily."

"Events."

"Emily."

"Captain stuff."

You grin.

Emily rolls her eyes.

"Fine."

A pause.

Then she admits:

"I never got around to finding a date."

The confession comes surprisingly easily.

Not embarrassed.

Just honest.

"I kept thinking I'd figure it out later."

She shrugs again.

"Then suddenly it was Homecoming."

You blink.

"The prettiest cheerleader on campus couldn't find a date?"

Emily immediately points at you.

"Don't start."

"I'm serious."

"That's exactly why you shouldn't start."

A laugh escapes her before she takes another sip of punch.

For a brief moment, she watches couples dancing beneath the lights.

Not sad.

Not lonely.

Just thoughtful.

Then her captain instincts return.

Immediately.

"Oh no."

You sigh.

"What?"

"We're low on cookies."

You stare.

Emily is already moving.

"No."

"We're running out."

"No."

"People need cookies."

"Emily."

She points dramatically toward the dessert table.

"Every successful event depends on morale."

"You're unbelievable."

"That's what leadership looks like."

You laugh.

Emily grins.

Then she glances toward the dance floor again.

This time the smile that appears is softer.

Different.

Less captain.

More Emily.

"Besides..."

She looks back at you.

"...the night's not over yet."

The music continues.

Students dance beneath the lights.

Laughter echoes across the ballroom.

And for the first time all evening, Emily Carter seems less concerned with running Homecoming—

And more interested in finally enjoying it.

The charity car wash was supposed to be simple.

At least, that's what the flyers claimed.

CAU Cheer Squad Charity Wash All proceeds benefit the Animal Rescue Fund Saturday • 10 AM – 4 PM

Simple.

Unfortunately, the flyers had failed to account for one critical factor:

The CAU Cheer Squad.

Which meant the student parking lot currently looked like a combination of a fundraiser, a sporting event, and complete chaos.

Music blasted from portable speakers. Cars lined up around the block. Students waved signs near the road while buckets, hoses, soap, and towels seemed to occupy every available square foot of pavement.

And somehow, despite the madness—

The entire operation was running with military precision.

Which told you exactly who was in charge.

"Bucket team rotates every twenty minutes!"

Emily Carter's voice carried effortlessly across the lot.

The blonde cheer captain stood near the center of the operation wearing a navy-and-white athletic swimsuit beneath a pair of black athletic shorts. Her signature braid hung over one shoulder, already damp from water and soap.

A clipboard was tucked beneath one arm.

Of course it was.

"You two are skipping rinse steps!"

Emily pointed across the lot.

"Water spots are the enemy!"

A pair of freshmen immediately scrambled to comply.

Nearby, Maya Lopez was somehow managing to spray both a car and several of her friends at the same time. Cassidy Mathis was enthusiastically scrubbing the same section of a pickup truck for what appeared to be the fifth consecutive minute. Tara Bennett carried three full buckets across the lot as if they weighed absolutely nothing.

Normal squad behavior.

As you approached, Emily was checking something off her clipboard.

You couldn't help yourself.

"You brought a clipboard."

Emily didn't even look up.

"It's a fundraiser."

"That doesn't answer the question."

"It absolutely answers the question."

Now she looked up.

A smile immediately appeared.

"Oh. Hey."

For a brief moment, the captain façade softened.

Then her eyes narrowed.

"You look suspiciously unoccupied."

You gestured toward the line of waiting cars.

"I was considering donating."

Emily nodded immediately.

"Excellent."

Then she pointed toward a nearby stack of towels.

"You're volunteering."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"I didn't agree to that."

"Sure you did."

"No, I didn't."

Emily smiled sweetly.

The smile was dangerous.

"It's for charity."

"You can't just use charity as an excuse."

"I absolutely can."

Before you could argue further, a loud splash echoed across the parking lot.

Everyone turned.

Maya stood holding a hose.

Cass stood completely soaked.

Both stared at each other.

A beat passed.

Then Cass lunged.

Maya shrieked and took off running.

The chase immediately began.

Emily closed her eyes.

Slowly.

Patiently.

Like a woman who had lived through this exact scenario before.

"You see?" she said without opening them.

"This is why I need volunteers."

You laughed.

Emily finally looked at you again.

A few loose strands of blonde hair had escaped her braid. There was a streak of soap on one shoulder she clearly hadn't noticed.

For the first time since you'd arrived, she looked less like the perfectly organized captain of the cheer squad and more like an ordinary college student actually enjoying herself.

Even if she'd never admit it.

Then her gaze flicked toward the donation jar.

Back to you.

And a mischievous grin appeared.

"You know..."

"What?"

"The deluxe wash package comes with a free volunteer shift."

"That's not how fundraising works."

"It's how this fundraiser works."

"Emily."

"Grab a towel."

Somewhere behind her, Maya screamed.

Cass yelled something about revenge.

A hose sprayed wildly into the air.

And Emily Carter—

Captain, organizer, problem-solver, and apparently fundraiser dictator—

Just smiled.

"Welcome to the team."

The snow is still falling lightly as you pull up to Emily’s off-campus apartment after the long Winter Toy Drive event. The two of you had spent hours organizing donations, loading boxes, and making sure every kid who showed up left with something special. Emily had been in full captain mode the entire time—directing volunteers, keeping the chaos organized, flashing that camera-ready smile for the campus photographers. But now, in the quiet warmth of your car, she lets out a soft breath and rolls her shoulders.

“Thanks for helping me finish up tonight,” she says, voice low and a little tired but still composed. “I don’t know how I would’ve gotten everything squared away without you.”

She hesitates for a moment, then reaches over and gives your hand a quick, grateful squeeze before stepping out. You walk her to the door, and when she invites you inside “for a minute,” you follow.

The apartment is neat and organized, just like her—CAU cheer memorabilia on the walls, a carefully arranged squad schedule on the fridge, and the faint scent of citrus shampoo and vanilla lotion in the air. Emily kicks off her white sneakers by the door, then turns to face you. For once, the polished captain looks a little uncertain, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her fitted white “CHEER” tank top.

“I… don’t really do this,” she admits quietly, blue eyes meeting yours. Her long golden-blonde braid falls over one shoulder as she reaches back to loosen it, letting the thick waves tumble down her back. “Between cheer, classes, practices, games, and everything else… I’ve never had time for dating, let alone… sex.”

She says the word softly, almost like she’s testing it. Her cheeks flush just a touch, but she doesn’t look away. Instead, she hooks her thumbs under the bottom of her tank top and slowly peels it upward, revealing the smooth, lightly tanned skin of her toned stomach, the narrow waist, and the generous curve of her large breasts held by a simple navy sports bra. The fabric whispers as it comes off completely, landing on the couch behind her.

Emily steps closer, athletic legs long and strong in her navy shorts. Her hands move to the waistband next, sliding the shorts down over her hips and thighs in one smooth motion, leaving her in just the sports bra and matching panties. She stands there, graceful posture still perfect even now, breathing a little quicker.

Her bright blue eyes lock onto yours with that familiar confident intensity, but there’s something new underneath—quiet invitation, a silent question. She doesn’t say anything more. Instead, she reaches out, fingers brushing your chest, then gently takes your hand and places it on her warm waist, right above the curve of her hip. Her body is firm and soft at the same time, radiating heat from the long day and the tension building between you.

Emily leans in until her lips are barely an inch from yours, braid now fully undone and framing her face. The message is crystal clear in the way she presses closer, in the subtle arch of her back, in the way her breath catches: Be my first.

The Carter family home is exactly what you expected.

Immaculate landscaping. Fresh flower beds bursting with color. An American flag hangs neatly beside the front porch. Not a blade of grass is out of place.

The entire property somehow radiates the same organized, welcoming energy as Emily herself.

Which probably isn't a coincidence.

You pull into the driveway, and Emily reaches over to switch off the engine.

Silence settles over the car. Neither of you moves. After a long moment, you glance over.

Emily is staring straight ahead, both hands still resting on the steering wheel.

She speaks softly, "we're here."

Another quiet moment passes.

You smile.

Emily notices immediately.

"...Don't."

She lets out a short, incredulous laugh.

She gestures toward herself.

"I'm Emily."

You simply raise an eyebrow.

"I've handled national championship competitions."

Another eyebrow.

"I've performed in front of packed stadiums."

You continue waiting.

"I've coordinated entire athletic department events."

Silence.

Emily's shoulders slowly sink.

"...I'm terrified."

A laugh escapes before you can stop it.

She groans dramatically, tipping her head back against the seat.

"This is a disaster. You are meeting my parents. My mother knows we're dating."

Emily points toward the house.

"My mother has known ever since the pep rally."

A beat.

"You remember meeting her."

Of course you do.

The interrogation.

The entire cheer squad watching.

Denise Carter somehow turning an ordinary conversation into an impromptu vote on whether the two of you were dating.

Emily is still recovering from that afternoon.

"My mother has spent the last several months waiting for this day."

She turns toward you.

"I really don't think you understand. Ever since she met you, she's been asking when I was finally bringing you home."

Before you can think about what that means—

The front door swings open.

Emily freezes.

Standing on the porch is Denise Carter.

Perfect posture, blonde hair styled flawlessly, wearing a bright summer dress, and an enormous smile.

One hand already waving enthusiastically. The other is holding a camera.

Emily whispers under her breath.

"...She's got the camera."

Denise waves even harder.

"Emily!"

Emily climbs out of the car with the slow resignation of someone marching toward inevitable defeat.

"Hi, Mom."

Denise immediately pulls her into a warm hug.

"My beautiful girl!"

"Hi, Mom."

"You've lost weight."

"I haven't."

"Are you eating enough?"

"Yes."

"Sleeping?"

"...Mostly."

"Working too hard?"

Emily sighs.

"Yes."

"I knew it."

Only then does Denise look past her daughter.

The instant she sees you, her smile somehow becomes even brighter.

"Oh!"

She claps her hands together.

"Look who's finally here!"

Before you can say anything, she walks over and warmly takes both of your hands.

"It is so wonderful to see you again!"

Beside you, Emily quietly mutters,

"...Here we go."

Denise beams.

"I told Robert after the pep rally that I liked you."

Emily pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Mom..."

"I did!"

She smiles at you.

"You were so polite. And wonderfully patient. I wasn't exactly subtle that day, was I?"

Emily actually snorts.

"No. No, you weren't."

Denise laughs.

"I suppose interrogating the two of you in front of the entire cheer squad wasn't my most graceful moment."

"It absolutely wasn't."

"But," she continues without missing a beat, "I was right."

Emily's cheeks immediately flush.

"Mother..."

"You two really are adorable together."

Emily buries her face in her hands.

"I can't believe we're doing this in the driveway."

"Oh, sweetheart."

Denise pats her shoulder.

"We haven't even started."

Emily slowly lowers her hands.

"...What does that mean?"

"It means your father has been looking forward to meeting him."

Emily nods.

"I expected that."

"Madison came home for the summer."

"Also expected."

"Grandma decided to visit."

Emily sighs.

"Of course she did."

"And Aunt Kelly happened to stop by."

Emily closes her eyes.

"...Mom."

Denise smiles innocently.

"What?"

Emily looks toward the sky as though silently asking for strength.

"You planned this."

"I absolutely planned this."

"I knew it."

"I wanted everyone to meet the young man who's somehow convinced my daughter to take weekends off once in a while."

Emily's blush deepens.

"I hate that you're right."

"I know."

Still smiling, Denise links one arm through Emily's and gestures for you to follow.

"Come inside. I've made lunch."

The smell of grilled burgers, roasted corn on the cob, homemade potato salad, fresh rolls, and warm peach cobbler drifts through the open doorway.

Almost immediately, voices stir inside the house.

"They're here!"

"Is that Emily?"

"Did they make good time?"

Emily pauses on the porch. Just for a second.

She quietly slips her hand into yours.

"I've faced national championship judges."

She takes a slow breath.

"I've performed in front of thousands of people."

Another steadying breath.

"But somehow..."

She looks toward the dining room, where her family is already gathering to greet you.

"...this is scarier."

From somewhere deeper in the house comes Denise's cheerful voice.

"Robert! Madison! They're here!"

Emily gives your hand a small, reassuring squeeze—perhaps as much for herself as for you.

A nervous smile finally breaks through.

"...Welcome to the Carter family."

The front door stands open.

Warm laughter spills out into the summer afternoon.

And inside, an entire family waits to meet the person Emily chose to bring home.

The athletics building is supposed to be locked by now. The hallway lights are already on the night cycle, the weight room is dark, and the only sound left in the women’s shower wing is water hitting tile and the wet, rhythmic slap of skin.

Emily’s back is against the slick white wall, one of your arms hooked under her thighs, the other braced across her lower back so she stays lifted. Her long golden-blonde braid is soaked and heavy, plastered down the curve of her spine. Water runs in thin sheets over her tanned shoulders, down the valley between her breasts, over the tight line of her stomach, and disappears where your bodies meet. Her navy practice shorts and the white “CHEER” tank are in a damp pile outside the stall. She is completely bare, legs spread wide around your hips, strong thighs flexed as she holds herself open for you.

She is 5'8" of captain: long legs, narrow waist, full breasts that bounce with every thrust, the kind of athletic body that still looks composed even when it’s being used. Her bright blue eyes stay locked on yours. There is steam in the air and a faint mix of citrus shampoo, vanilla lotion, and clean sweat that the hot water hasn’t quite washed off.

Emily’s voice is still that same even, slightly teasing captain tone, just breathier now.

“Four years of late-night workouts and you still act like you’re going to drop me,” she says, one wet hand sliding up the back of your neck to keep you close. “I’ve got you. Don’t you dare go soft on me now.”

She rolls her hips down to meet you, taking you deeper, a quiet, controlled sound catching in her throat. Her braid swings against the tile. Water drips from the tip of it onto the floor.

“Harder,” she murmurs against your mouth, that familiar mix of affection and command. “We both needed this. Don’t make me ask twice.”

Her legs tighten around you. The empty shower keeps echoing.