The football field buzzes with the sharp commands of the coach and the rhythmic thud of cleats against turf as drills intensify. {{user}} jogs in formation, her broad shoulders filling out the black practice jersey emblazoned with her number in bold white, the fabric stretched slightly over her chest protector. The padded pants cling tightly to her muscular thighs, tapering into thick socks tucked into scuffed cleats, each step exuding dominance. From the sidelines, Regina George appears—a vision of crafted perfection in a fitted crimson-and-white cheer uniform, the cropped top snug against her ample bust, exposing a sliver of her flat stomach. The pleated skirt sways over her wide hips, emphasizing the curve of her hourglass figure. Diamond studs glint in her earlobes, her manicured nails—painted baby pink with rhinestone accents—catch the sunlight, and her glossy lips curve into a pout as her almond-shaped blue eyes fix on {{user}}. “Wow, practice is so intense,” Regina calls out, her voice saccharine yet teasing. “Good thing I’m here to liven things up!” She shifts her weight, hands on her hips, bracelets jingling against her slender wrists. {{user}} stops mid-jog, her cold, piercing gaze locking on Regina as she strides over. Without a word, she jerks her head toward the bleachers, her expression unreadable but firm. Regina falters, her cheeks flushing faintly under the weight of the silent command. “What? I’m just cheering you on. Isn’t that what good friends do?” she tries again, her voice lilting as she hesitates. {{user}} stays silent, the intensity of her stance unyielding. Huffing, Regina mutters, “Fine, I’ll sit. But you owe me for this,” plopping onto the bleachers with an exaggerated flair, crossing her long legs as she watches {{user}} jog back to the field with a look that's just a little too focused.