chapter four

Sienna Pov

If Chapter Three of my Northgate life could be titled Living My Best Life, Chapter Four would be The Day Scott McCall Declared War.

Not literally, but close enough.

He had the audacity to show up at cheer practice again — twenty minutes past when his team’s gym slot was over — sweaty, smug, and tossing a football in the air like the universe should thank him for gracing us with his presence.

“McCall,” I snapped, arms crossed. “You’re in our space. Again.”

Scott caught the football one-handed and grinned. “Relax, Captain Pom-Poms. We’re cooling down.”

“Captain Pom—?” I blinked. “Did you just—?”

Beside me, Harper choked on her water bottle. “Oh, this is going to be fun,” she whispered.

“Harper, don’t encourage him,” I hissed.

Scott tilted his head, eyes glinting wolf-bright. “You’re welcome to share, you know. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?”

“Wrong.” I stepped closer, pointing toward the doors. “Your schedule ended twenty minutes ago. Take your dream and move it off my mat.”

Behind him, one of his teammates — Liam Reyes, I think — leaned against the bleachers, smirking. “She’s got bite, Scotty.”

“Don’t call me Scotty,” Scott muttered, then turned back to me with that infuriating grin. “What’s the matter, Carter? Afraid I’ll outshine you?”

I swear my wolf bristled at that. Me? Outshone? Not in this lifetime.

“Outshine me?” I laughed, sharp as glass. “Please. Cheer runs this campus. Nobody comes to watch a bunch of guys in pads chase a ball unless the cheer squad makes it worth their time.”

Gasps rippled through my team. Harper whooped. Liam snorted so hard he nearly dropped his Gatorade.

Scott just looked… entertained. Which made me want to throw something at his stupid perfect face.

The run-ins didn’t stop there. We shared a class together —Intro to Psych, the kind of lecture hall where you could easily vanish into anonymity. Except, of course, when Scott McCall was in the room.

I had barely slid into a seat when someone plopped down right beside me. I didn’t have to look; the smell of cologne and the infuriating wave of smugness gave him away.

“You’re in my seat,” Scott said, casually tossing his notebook onto the desk.

I blinked at him. “Pretty sure this is a first-come, first-sit kind of deal.”

He smirked. “And yet, here you are… sitting in my unspoken territory.”

“Unspoken territory?” I scoffed. “This isn’t the football field, McCall. No one cares where you sit.”

“Clearly you do.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear. “Don’t worry, Carter. I don’t bite… unless you ask nicely.”

I gaped at him, words dying in my throat. He chuckled at my expression, then leaned back like he’d just scored a touchdown in our little verbal sparring match.

Across the row, my friend Harper shot me a wide-eyed look and mouthed, What was that?! I shook my head furiously.

And that was just Monday.

By Wednesday, he’d managed to steal my pen during class (“Relax, Carter, I’m borrowing it. Sharing is caring”), sneak a football sticker onto my notebook, and slide a folded paper onto my desk that simply read:

Cheerleader. You can’t avoid me forever.

I crumpled it into a ball and launched it at his head. He caught it without even looking. Show-off.

If someone had told me months ago that my greatest nemesis in college would be the golden boy of Northgate University, I’d have laughed. But here I was, glaring at Scott McCall like it was my second full-time job. And from the way he smirked every time our paths crossed, he clearly thought this was all some sort of game.

By the next week, it was open war.

Coach finally got us access to the indoor gym—prime real estate, considering how often the football team hogged it. We walked in one afternoon, pumped up, music queued… only to find the mats mysteriously sticky. Not just “spilled soda” sticky. No, someone had sprayed the entire cheer section with adhesive spray.

“Ugh!” Maria, one of my squad mate groaned, trying to peel her sneaker off the mat. “Who even does this?”

I didn’t have to wonder. Because right then, Scott strolled by with his teammates, tossing a football lazily from hand to hand. His eyes locked on mine, lips quirking into that smug smile that made my blood boil.

“You girls seem… stuck,” he said smoothly, his teammates snickering behind him.

I wanted to hurl a pom-pom at his face.

“Grow up, McCall.” I snapped.

He just winked and walked off, leaving me to lead my team in peeling mats off the floor like we were in some slapstick comedy routine.

The next big showdown came during a pep rally planning meeting. Both squads had been forced into the same conference room — which was basically asking for bloodshed.

Coach Daniels, the football coach, and our coach, Mike, leaned over the table, looking between us. “We need a unified performance for the homecoming game. Something that blends football and cheer.”

Scott leaned back in his chair with infuriating ease, arms folded across his chest. That smirk — the one that made girls swoon and me want to throw a water bottle at his head — stretched across his face.

“So basically,” he drawled, “you want us to dumb it down so the cheer squad can keep up?”

My chair screeched as I stood. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, voice lazy. “You guys can flip and twirl all you want, but the real show happens on the field. People come for the game. Not… sparkly pom-poms.”

Harper gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.. “Oh no, he did not.”

“Oh yes, he did,” I growled, heat rising to my face.

Before I could stop myself, I planted both hands on the table and leaned forward until I was just inches away from him. His smug smile didn’t falter — if anything, it widened.

“Listen carefully, My voice dropped to a low, dangerous tone. “McCall. My squad doesn’t just ‘twirl.’ We set the tone, we bring the energy, and we keep the crowd alive when you’re fumbling on the twenty-yard line. Without us, you’re just a bunch of sweaty guys in helmets.”

Scott’s jaw flexed, his smug mask faltering for just a fraction of a second. I caught it — the crack, the flash of irritation — before he pulled it back together. Then, like the cocky jerk he was, he smirked.

“Careful, Carter,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying just enough for the whole room to hear. “That Alpha fire of yours? Kinda hot.”

My cheeks burned — from anger. Definitely anger. Heat rushed up my neck like someone had lit me on fire.

“You’re impossible,” I snapped, throwing my hands in the air.

“And you love it,” he shot back without missing a beat, leaning lazily in his chair like he hadn’t just poured gasoline on the flames.

Gasps and laughter rippled through the room. They were obviously enjoying the drama. Premium entertainment, apparently — front row seats to the “Sienna vs. Scott Show.”

Harper Lane’s eyes went wide as saucers. “Oh my gosh.”

Kayla shook her head, fanning herself with her notebook. “I swear, this is better than N*****x.”

“And messier,” Harper added with a grin, elbowing me. “Way messier.”

The football squad was eating it up, pounding the table and whistling like this was some late-night comedy show. My squad? Half of them looked ready to throw pom-poms at Scott’s head; the other half were trying way too hard not to laugh.

I folded my arms across my chest and glared at him, refusing to let him see me crack. “In your dreams, McCall.”

He just winked, cocky as ever. “Guess I’ll see you there, then.”

The room broke into another wave of hoots, squeals, and mock “oooohs,” and for one ridiculous second, I actually understood why teachers banned us from sitting next to each other in assemblies.

Coach Mike groaned, rubbing his temples. “This is exactly why I said separate meetings…”

Coach Daniels smacked his clipboard against the table. “Enough! This is a planning meeting, not open mic night.”

But Scott’s smirk didn’t budge, and the smug look on his face made my blood boil all over again.

I slumped into my chair, seething, while Harper leaned in and whispered, “If you accidentally kill him, I’ll totally help you hide the body.”

That almost made me laugh — almost. But I wasn’t about to give Scott the satisfaction of seeing me smile.

This wasn’t over. Not even close.