Me too.
“Why was she even here?” I ask.
“The softball team threw a surprise birthday party for Mom. I knew she’d be here for the weekend, just not that she’d be at our game.”
Yet another reminder that I’m not part of that group—a club Stacey would always be a part of.
“These last few days have been hell,” Grey says, eyes heavy with something that looks like remorse. “Notbecause of the stares in class or the shit at practice. It’s been hell because I hurt you. I didn’t mean to, but I did.”
I cough out a sad laugh. “You definitely did. You could’ve told me about Stacey that very first day. Even if you didn’t plan on using me as a way to get back at her, even if your motivations really were true, keeping something like that a secret still wasn’t okay.”
A prickly mix of gratification and shame drops in my stomach as he winces. But then he surprises me—God, I should’ve showered—letting his thumbs graze my temples. If anything, they’re even more gentle. “How could I tell you? How could I introduce myself as this awesome starting quarterback and then tell you about my C team life—dumped, reckless, broken? I was already falling for you before I even got up the courage to talk to you.”
I raise a brow. “You can tell me now.”
Grey punches out a breath and gestures to the curb. “Sit down, this might take a while.”
“I’ve got all night if it’s actually the truth.” But I can’t keep from smiling.
He sinks to the concrete first, immediately and unsurprisingly manspreading, his bent knees frogging out. I find a square of curb out of their vicinity, extending my legs out front, crossing them tight, even though all they want todo is curve into him, to brush against the soft wash of his jeans, feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric.
“First things first,” he says. “I dated Stacey because I’d watched enough movies to know that’s just what starting quarterbacks did—they date the head cheerleader. No-brainer. Plus, she was a year older and wanted to go out with me. Who says no tothat?” He laughs at himself. “I liked her well enough, but it wasn’t like we had some fantastic love story.”
The breeze kicks up for a brief second, a few leaves tumbling past.
“I should’ve told you that first day. If I’d been thinking straight I would’ve seen the big picture, but honestly, I’d never seen you up close before and I was sort of blindsided by your face.” A slow smile creeps across his lips. “Getting socked in both the head and the heart clearly wasn’t helpful for making good decisions.”
His grin tells meI’mthe heart part of the equation, not Stacey dumping him at a party. Stupid butterflies rise from the ashes lining my stomach once again.
Grey’s fingers graze my elbow, not daring to do much more. They’re as soft as they were on my face, as gentle as the next words are firm. “For the record, I don’t regret recruiting you, even if the whole thing turned out to be a disaster.”
“A very public disaster.”
“That’s my fault. I should’ve let you go after the game. Ijust—I couldn’t let you walk away. Not like that.” His eyes reset and he sighs. “And it wasn’t because I was worried you’d rat me out for the concussion. I was worried I’d lose you.” His knee bops mine. “I wouldn’t trade the time I’ve had with you for anything, even if I wish it had turned out differently.” A long finger circles slowly in the air. “Which brings me back around to the beginning.” Half smile, no wink. “I’m sorry. I miss you. I made a mistake, a huge one.”
His sweet face—as open as I’ve ever seen it—looms inches from mine. Close enough to kiss. But my vision is clouded by yet another replay of my fist connecting with Stacey’s nose, my knuckles bruising with her cartilage.
I know all about mistakes.
We’re quiet for a second, the clock approaching ten on a school night. I tap my watch. “Curfew’s earlier on weeknights.”
Weight lifted, a shade of the boy I met on the track that day comes clear, and his shoulder nudges mine. Briefly—we touch and then we don’t. His next sentence is the same one he said when he appeared, but now there’s so much more to it, the layers peeled back. Both our hearts exposed.
We’re not back together but we’re definitely in this together.
“Liv, I’m sorry.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself away from him, away from his body heat that calls to me, away fromhow easy it would be to curl into his chest in the shadows. I stand and pull out my keys.
“I know.”
37
THE NEXT DAY, GREY AND I ORBIT EACH OTHER A LITTLEcloser than we have in the past few days but still barely exchange a word. Which is fine. I’m not ready for more. Not yet. So when the end of Wednesday practice rolls around, I light out of the locker room as fast as possible yet again, this time with the immediate goal of proving my brother wrong.
Because I am finally going to make theentiretyof a Northland varsity soccer game.
Even better: The soccer game is at home, just steps from the locker room. I manage to get there before it starts, but the soccer field is already freaking packed, the Northland orange outnumbering the South County yellow two to one. Bodies spill over into the grass on either side of both sets of bleachers, and it seems to take days for my eyesto finally settle on two pairs of waving arms. Danielle and Mom, holding spots three rows up.
