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“Like hell he did.” I lifted the tablecloth for another look and then dropped it as a wad of pasta flew toward me. It splattered against the plastic a second later. “You get out there and tell your guys to back down, or we’ll all be in deep shit.”

TJ opened his mouth and then snapped it shut before he ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, what if we both go out there? Maybe they’ll stop then.”

My eyes narrowed.

Or maybe you’re trying to lead me into a trap? “Fine.” I put my hand on the bottom of the tablecloth to lift it. “On the count of three. One…two…three!”

We charged out at the same time and then stopped short.

The good news? The fighting stopped before we had to step in.

The bad news? Our families stepped in first.

And they looked pissed.

Granddad and Coach Crowley stood side by side with their arms crossed, glaring at the mess. Granddad had lettuce leaves on his shoulder, and a wad of spaghetti slid off Coach Crowley’s neck.

“What the hell, boys?” Coach Crowley shouted.

Someone cut the loud country music.

Coach Crowley walked around the table to join Granddad and Coach Monaco. He picked the lettuce off Granddad and then turned to TJ. “Care to explain how this started?”

TJ stepped in front of me. “I, uh, I don’t know, Uncle Will. I was helping with the salads over there, and then I heard all this shouting—”

“And then Ben had a bowl of spaghetti on his head,” I added.

TJ pointed to my team. “But then those guys threw a roll right at Andy’s eyes.”

“Yeah, because Andy and that other asshole were laughing at him.”

“Dude, there was a pile of pasta on his head. It was pretty funny—”

“Enough!” Granddad and Coach Crowley yelled at the same time. Granddad stepped forward first. “Reed, you’re captain of this team. So you’re going to stay late after everyone cleans up and make sure there is not a drop of spaghetti or a piece of salad anywhere on this street.”

“What?” My ears burned.

TJ chuckled, and then Coach Crowley spoke. “And you, TJ, will help him.”

Ha!

Oh…wait.

Most of the guests left after that. I had hoped to catch Ben before he left, but he was one of the first to disappear after the fight.

I guess I would’ve too, if I’d ended up wearing my dinner instead of eating it.

As the sun went down, and despite her parents telling her she could leave whenever she wanted, Eliza hovered and helped us clean up. Her mom warned her about getting sauce on her new “Burr Berries”—whatever the hell those were—but Eliza just groaned and rolled her eyes dramatically.

I had laughed at the whole thing, which earned a suspicious look from her father. He kept a close watch on me for the next thirty minutes. What did I do? Was I not allowed to even laugh at something his daughter did?

Chad My-Golf-Shorts-Are-Too-Short Dupont sauntered up to Eliza as she was leaving, and my eye started twitching. The two of them laughed about something before she playfully pushed him a little.

What the f—

“Fucking sucks,” TJ mumbled as he ripped off a plastic tablecloth. More spaghetti dropped to the ground with a wet thwack.

“Hey, come on. Wipe those down before you just yank the thing off.” I crawled over to the new noodles on the ground and threw one at him.