“That’s where the cover story falls apart, actually.”
She lets out a small laugh and finally turns her head a fraction, just enough for me to catch the corner of her smile. Then my eyes drop and take their time looking, because she’s right there in the sun, and I’m only so strong, and suddenly being strangers doesn’t sound so hot.
“My place is close,” I say, when I get my brain back. “Just putting that out there.”
She elbows me in the ribs — light, deniable — and walks back toward her blanket without another word, although she does give me a little shimmy that I know is just for me, and not deniable this time.
I stand at the cooler longer than I need to, drinking orange soda. And when I look up again, she’s lying on her back with my Ravens jacket bunched under her head. That makes me think of her beneath me in bed.
So much for strangers.
I let my eyes linger, then turn back toward the pitch. The tree Mason was sitting under is empty, and he’s standing near me now. There’s no telling how long he’s been watching, but his eyes are on Sloane.
“So,” he says, still not looking at me. “That’s happening.”
It isn’t a question, so I don’t answer it like one. “Yeah,” I say.
“How long?” he asks.
“Not long.”
“How long is not long?” He tilts his head, like it’s casual.
“Not long.”
The speech starts assembling itself.Look, man. It wasn’t a plan. I wasn’t trying to step on you. You and her weren’t really together anymore.But then I stop, because what Sloane and I are isn’t something I need to explain, and his busted ego isn’t something I need to fix.
“She chose me,” I say. “And I chose her.”
It sits between us, and Mason’s expression doesn’t change, still staring at Sloane. It’s like his brain is still working through a problem, or maybe he genuinely doesn’t care enough to make a moment out of it.
“Yeah,” he says, eventually. “Okay.”
I set the can down. “We cool?”
“We’re great.” He claps a hand on my shoulder. “Happy for you.”
“Sure,” I say.
“You’ll need to tell me if it tastes as sweet as I imagined…”
My hand tightens around the soda can before the rest of me processes what he just said. But he’s already moving, unhurried, hands in his pockets, the performance of a guy who tossed it off and walked away.
Then there’s movement at the edge of my vision. Sloane is on her feet and off the blanket, crossing the green straight at me. Not casually, not on her way to anywhere else. The sun at her back.
And she’s got a look of defiance and determination on her face.
fourteen
SLOANE
I’m halfwayacross the green and walking before I remember standing up.
Every person on every blanket can see me: the girl walking straight across open grass toward a shirtless boy. But I’m fine with that, because I decided a minute ago that I don’t want to deny it.
Denyus.
At the far cone, the pickup game has gone scrappy, with someone yelling about a handball. Rowan still has his back to me, by the coolers. Twenty yards off, Mason has pulled up short of leaving. He started to drift away after their conversation, then stopped when he saw me.
