The Cheat Sheet (The Cheat Sheet, #1)

by Sarah Adams

It’s a classy spread with well-placed hands and thighs to cover the most important bits. But yeah, Nathan was completely naked in that magazine. And although I own five copies, I’ve never been able to bring myself to look inside (the cover only shows him from the waist up). There are some boundaries you just can’t cross as friends. Nakedness is one of them.

And I, in case you are wondering, am an overeager puppy, begging for Bree to play with me—to always play with me.

Bree employs one other instructor at her studio who teaches tap and jazz, but really, she needs to add another to help with the load.

But then, she pulled away. Or more like cut me off. She left me with no choice but to go to UT as planned—and then after I got there, she wouldn’t return any of my calls or texts. It felt like the most painful breakup even though we’d never dated. We went four years without talking, and still to this day I have no idea why she did that.

It’s staring at the sun and not blinking even though it burns like hell. Oh, and did I mention I accidentally saw her naked a few weeks ago? Yeah, that hasn’t helped.

I strongly dislike her boyfriend. He doesn’t deserve her. I mean, I don’t deserve her either, but that’s beside the point. What kind of douchebag would be okay with his girlfriend living in a hazardous building and not offer for her to move in with him?

Somehow our relationships have staggered themselves out into an almost humorous cycle. And now…we’re both single. At the same time. And I’ve seen her naked. (That thought has nothing to do with anything, it just pops into my head randomly from time to time.)

He grunts a laugh as he finishes buttoning

I cross the floor of the long slender studio to reach the sound system in the back corner.

That car accident saved my life, because if I had gone on to Juilliard with the unhealthy mentality toward my body and workaholic lifestyle I had at the time, I’m not sure what would have happened to me. Now, I will make sure my dancers feel seen, and loved, and dammit, FED!

“Sorry, but no.” He steps a little closer. “Do you know what it’s like to see your best friend care for every single person under the sun but herself? I watch you pour everything into those girls and their families, going above and beyond to not only give them incredible dance instruction but also make them feel loved in the process. And for some reason, you think that same kindness shouldn’t be extended toward yourself.”

“That’s it. I’m not going with you tonight. End of story. You need to be taught a lesson.” I fold my arms. I am a solid, immovable stone. I will not be swayed! Nathan’s laugh is the last thing I hear before I’m scooped up and tossed over his shoulder, butt aimed up toward the sky.

“No, you’re not, and I’m not going with you to the party! PUT ME DOWN! Wait, can you grab my tennis shoes? They’re down there beside the couch. And don’t forget my sweater!”

Before we make it to the lobby, I decide that if Nathan can touch my butt, then I can touch his. I scrunch my nose then move my finger and thumb toward his butt cheek with the intent to pinch the daylights out of him so he’ll put me down. The first attempt, however, is unsuccessful. He only laughs and flexes his rock-solid glute, making it so there’s no padding I can grab to inflict damage.

“Not so bad? Nathan, she shamed you for…” I let that sentence die off because Nathan and I have NEVER talked openly about our sex lives before. We treat the topic like it’s a building on fire and give it a wide berth. Instead, I let my eyes drop to the forbidden area of his jeans and hope this conveys the words I’m too embarrassed to say. “Not being able to…well, you read it, so you know.” He’s trying not to smile. “It’s not a big deal.”

“She—she publicly shamed you for having erectile dysfunction, Nathan. That’s a horrible thing to do! And humiliating. And you’re the nicest guy in the whole world! And I HATE HER!”

His hand presses firmer into my back so I don’t trip again. “I don’t think you’re getting glares from those women because they assume you’re my little sister.”

“Also, Dad won’t let us have more than one drink because of the playoffs. You good to party enough for all of us?” The team refers to Nathan as Dad because he’s always the respectable stick-in-the-mud.

Lawrence shrugs. “I think it’s kinda nice how he’s always looking out for her.” Jamal points at Lawrence. “Don’t encourage him.”

I’m aware of the woman still hovering behind me. I want to ask her to go away. She doesn’t need to be witnessing this, but that’s the thing about fans—they don’t believe in giving celebrities privacy. They seem to be under the impression that we “signed up for this” and our private lives should be an open, all-you-can-eat entertainment buffet.

As we emerge from the stall, I find us face-to-face with Kara just as she’s slipping her phone back into her purse. I don’t have time to worry about that now though. “Thanks for…” Spying? Eavesdropping? Sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong? “Checking up on her.”

Every inch of me tingles with awareness, and I begin mentally mapping out every way she fits perfectly in my arms. My mind growls.

I keep moving back into the living room and straight into the sight of my friends, lined up on the couch, brows lifted and arms folded. It looks like an intervention. “What’s with the mom vibes?”

“Scared of what?” “Making the first move and it not being reciprocated. Y’all are stuck in a vortex of fear and miscommunication. Someone has to break through it first.”

Derek is the last to step up and offer his sage advice on what I should do with Bree to get myself out of the friend zone. But it’s not romantic or sweet, so I won’t repeat it. Although I will tuck it away for a rainy day.

All I wanted was football and neon green duct tape, and I always got the feeling that my parents looked at me and saw nothing but a way to ensure their financial security and status for the rest of their lives. Football was the only life they wanted me to live.

I turn around, and in that fraction of a moment, she’s looking away like she’s been an innocent little lamb the whole time.

“Yep! Good to go. Dylan is taking good care of me.” Nathan’s dark eyes glint. “Not too good, I hope. That’s my job—and according to what I just heard, I’m doing it really well.”

“Oh honey, don’t fool yourself. That girl has been interfering with your success since you were in high school. I saw you almost throw it all away for her back then, and I won’t watch you do it a second time.”

One of the dancers throws her forearm over her eyes dramatically. “Quick, someone get me some sunglasses—that man is so hot he’s burning my pupils off.”

I shift from one foot to the other. “I, uh—had something I wanted to…” “Oh my gosh, is that giant man stuttering?! He’s so adorable.” Bree looks over my shoulder to where that whispered comment came from. “Back in the studio or you’re all doing ten minutes of push-ups before class is over!” Such a drill sergeant. I wonder if these girls find her threatening. I just want to kiss her.

“Bree, I’m so sorry. What can I do to make it better? Stop talking about it? Tell you what I thought when I saw you?” “NO! HELL NO!” I push out of Nathan’s arms and stand. I’m pacing like a panther in a cage at the zoo. An idea immediately strikes me, and I don’t give it a second thought before blurting it out. “You can take off your clothes and even the score.”