Zoe is already flirting with wide receiver Billy when Monica fulfills her duties at the Chi Omega tailgate party and makes it inside the stadium. The social points almost aren't worth dealing with her drunken sorority sisters but she successfully avoided being given alcohol before she had to cheer, and when she made it in the stadium, she almost wished for that bloody Mary someone had tried to give her.
The lights are bright, the crowd is at full volume, and the air is fraught with tension.
A veritable sea of red and white, it's Utah Utes vs. Ole Miss, tonight, and no matter who wins or loses, both victory and defeat will be stained crimson. There's a section of students on both sides, a large percentage of whom just came from the tailgate parties still occupying the half-moon shaped courtyard out front, and have been absolutely plastered since about nine A.M. when the parties began. The rest of the stadium is for fans of either team, faculty, and parents of players and cheerleaders.
"Utes! Utes! Utes!" is the chant of doom to the opposing side. Monica can literally feel the anger rolling off of each side; a competition fueled fire that will only grow as the night wears on and the game begins.
"Mississippi! Mississippi!"
The long southern drawl from the Ole Miss side of the stadium ties Monica's stomach in knots. It is so unrelenting in it's familiarity but she hasn't the slightest idea where she could have heard it before. But the high-pitched laughter of her probably tipsy, at least, if not outright drunk, cheer squad draws Monica's attention away from whatever it is that's got her all tied up.
Zoe is flushed and wide-eyed, but it isn't alcohol that has her this way. It's more likely, "Billy." but it's the only other redhead on the team, Amelie, poking Zoe's ribs teasingly as she says his name.
"Shut up, Ames." Zoe pouts, grabbing Monica's waist playfully. "Why don't you pick on Monica here about her new boyfriend?"
"Monica's got a boyfriend?!" Amelie squawks in disbelief, looking down at the little redhead.
"No!" Monica turns a heated glare on Zoe, who just shrugs innocently. "Zoe's lying."
"What's his name?"
"Yeah, what does he look like?"
"Well, I don't know what he looks like, but his name is Andrew." Zoe answers before Monica can open her mouth. "And, I'd guess he's hot. He certainly had Monica all hot and bothered when she came home from class, this morning."
"He is not hot." Monica grumbles, tugging on her cheer uniform until it's adjusted the way she wants it. The crowd lifts in volume, if that's possible, when the pre-game music fills the stadium. It'll be two or three songs from a set playlist before the band goes out to play the actual pre-game music, and Monica flinches away from the noise, focusing on something in hopes to tune it out. But, her mind keeps going back to Tess' classroom and that insufferable brat she'd called Andrew.
No.
He hadn't been hot at all. There'd been no overwhelming warmth in that crooked smile, no spark in those beautiful green eyes. And, she definitely hadn't felt a single thing when his fingers had brushed the back of her hands when he practically shoved the book back into them.
No, Andrew hadn't been hot at all.
He'd been drop dead gorgeous.
"Ute for life!" it's a dark brunette boy - she hesitates to say man, for various reasons - pumping his fist and shouting at the opposing side. "Ole Miss can kiss it!"
Monica giggles at the poor attempt at heckling, but someone from Mississippi still shouts back, "You'll be kissing our asses when we beat yours, little boy!"
"We'll see about that, old man!"
"You're both idiots!" another cheerleader for the Utah Utes, a tiny blonde, who will be the flyer later, shouts at them both, rolling pretty blue eyes at them. Cecelia genuinely enjoys being a cheerleader but the competitive nature of football drives her crazy.
And, the competition is clear.
Not just in the foam fingers, jerseys, and bad heckling but in the ferocity of the players. Monica watches them, the observable shift in body language fascinating her to no end. How their entire body tenses, readying itself to spring into action, like a tiger leaping on its prey. There will be bruises, blood-shed, and wounded pride by the end of the night.
"Mon, position." Amelie reminds her, touching her shoulder to bring her back down to earth.
Monica just nods, shifting over a few steps until she's in line with Cecelia. The University's marching band grumbles through the last of the warm-ups, out on the field, before the first notes of the fight song fills the stadium. Nobody will pay attention to the song, but rather to the cheer squad strutting their stuff.
A quick jog to the fifty yard line and they spread out into their positions. She's tossing her arms above her head for the first move when she swears she sees a familiar face in the audience. But, she can't think about that, right now.
So, she chants the words, does the moves, and lets herself sink into the atmosphere. The loud noise of the crowd, the bright lights, the drunken heckling, and the electricity sizzling in the form of good ol' fashioned competition.
She pretends not to notice the green eyes staring at her. Or, the way the butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the sight of his crooked smirk. Monica really doesn't know why that smirk gets under skin.
"You seemed off, Mon." Adam Knight teases the young cheerleader during a time-out - a hot day and a packed stadium mean the referees and coaches worked overtime to keep their players energized and properly hydrated.
"I'm fine, Adam." Monica grumbles.
"Monica's got a crush." Zoe informs the star quarterback.
"Woof!" Adam barks playfully, eyeing a flushed Monica, but whether it's from the heat, cheering, or embarrassment he can't say. "Must be quite the guy to throw her off balance."
"See, Mon!" Zoe giggles, "Even the star quarterback knows!"
Monica glares at both of them and stalks off to talk to Amelie until it's time to cheer, again. She pretends not to notice Zoe and Adam's conspiratorial chatter, until Zoe says his name and Adam's face brightens. "Andrew?"
"You know him?" Zoe gawks at Adam. She knew his reputation for knowing everyone on campus preceded him but she didn't know it extended to literally everyone.
"I had Tess' religious studies class with him, last year." Adam tells her, looking over at Monica. "Mon, this Andrew, he didn't happen to have a strong Southern accent, did he?"
"I guess, he had a bit of one, I didn't really notice." Monica stumbles to answer Adam's question.
Adam just laughs and nods at Zoe, "That's the one. Great guy."
"Really? Monica said he was a bit mean." Zoe tells him, now utterly fascinated.
"Yes, but we both know Monica." Adam leans down to talk quietly, out of Monica's earshot. "She's a lot."
Zoe giggles. Adam bids them farewell and returns to the team to hydrate and get his mouthguard back in before the whistle.
…
Halftime arrives none-too-soon for the drunken hecklers in the stands. It's a chance to escape back out to the tailgate parties and replenish the alcohol in their bloodstream. Not that they need to, but it gets the screaming teenager out of Andrew's ear so he elects to keep his snide remarks to himself.
"How'd a Utah boy get his hands on Ole Miss' beer?" one of the least drunk students points to the cream and gold can in Andrew's hand. "They're not sharing their booze."
"I'm from Mississippi." Andrew's drawl is looser than it would be if he wasn't already a beer and a half in, but even sober, he'd let it deepen considerably. "That tipped things in my favor."
The Ute is just drunk enough not to completely understand what Andrew had said and is content with whatever he perceives Andrew's answer to be, settling back in his seat with his solo cup of whatever the fraternities were pouring.
While they've been plastered for the last ten hours of their lives, Andrew's only on his second beer. The Southern Prohibition Light beer is hard to come by in a mostly dry state like Utah, but Ole Miss fans had brought cases with them, and a little flirting had persuaded two cans from a pretty girl.
Speaking of.
Monica.
Her presence had made kickoff a bit more interesting than it might have been otherwise. To be honest, Andrew wasn't that interested in football, but he's a Mississippi boy and had come in search of a reminder of home that wouldn't rip his heart out and stomp on it. His interest had definitely piqued when he found that dazzling smile and all of those burgundy curls chanting for Utah on the field.
"Y'know, I didn't invite you to this game so that you could sulk the whole night." Adam yells from the bottom of the bleachers.
"I didn't come because you invited me, either, Adam." Andrew retorts sharply, holding up his beer. "I came for this."
"And, the cheerleaders, don't lie to me." Adam teases, though his eyes darken in envy. He's not permitted alcohol until the end of the game but Andrew is a spectator so he is allowed to drink. And, ever since Andrew had introduced him to Mississippi's home-brew, he'd been chomping at the bit to drink more of it.
"I'll leave that to you, Knight." but, even Andrew knows he's bluffing. He had been paying apt attention to the cheerleaders, or rather, one in particular. "Though, you do have a pretty redhead cheering you on."
Adam struggles to maintain his composure. He's pretty sure he knows which pretty redhead Andrew is talking about. "That's Monica."
The shift in his friend is noticeable, even with several metal bleachers and some drunken stragglers between them. His eyes darken and his mouth tips into something of a smirk. "I think we've met."
"Oh?"
"Tess King's religious studies." Andrew offers by way of explanation, "I went to ask her about a recommendation letter. Monica came in to get a book she forgot. She was interesting."
"Uh, yeah. She can be a bit of a fireball." Adam grins up at his friend, who is scoffing into his beer. "Ah, I take it you found that out."
Andrew just offers him a grimace and says, "Not very likeable, that one."
"You're just used to passive little Molly." Adam reminds him gently. "Monica's not like that. She's fire and she will burn you."
"Yeah, I got that, Adam, thanks." Andrew grumbles down at his friend. "Don't you have something else to do aside from irritate me?"
"Yes. Irritate Monica." Adam grins like the cat that ate the canary and jogs toward the cheerleaders congregating at the end of the bleachers, near the band's hangout. Andrew rolls his eyes at his friend and listens to the ladies giggle when he's over-enthusiastic and flirtatious. "Hello, gorgeous!"
"Hi Adam!"
Andrew listens to the conversation, paying close attention when he hears Monica's soft Irish cadence. " - you never change, do you know that?"
"I know, little fireball." the affection in Adam's voice strikes a nerve with Andrew and he's not sure why. It's unreasonable of him to be jealous when he's claimed to not even like her. But, he is irrationally pissed off when he hears Adam's next comment. "You know, fireball, it's usually the star quarterback the cheerleaders fawn over, not a guy in the stands, they claim to not like."
"Who? Andrew?" Monica's tone is shrieking and outraged. "I was not fawning over him."
"Really? I never said anything about it being Andrew." Adam teases and Andrew can easily picture the way he narrows his eyes. He's been given that same look many times since he's known Adam. "Something going on there, Mon?"
"No!"
The conversation is interrupted by music starting up. Something Andrew is grateful for because he doesn't think he could take much more Adam's affection towards Monica. He pretends to be fascinated by the beer in his hand but he doesn't miss when Monica is drug out onto the field by a tall blonde, who is giggling at her friend's stubbornness.
But, the music gets her, and it isn't long before she's moving to Rick Astley's unusually baritone voice - he's seen the video, honestly, the guy should sound like a mouse. He watches her goof off before sinking into the beat.
" - never gonna let you down...
She swings her hips all the way to the floor before jumping back up, catching every beat, of the music, and Andrew's heart attempting to fling itself out of his chest. She does it, again, this time, though, she catches Andrew's eye and gives him a wink.
He chokes on his beer.