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My molars grind together as I fight not to show my annoyance. “Yeah. Thatshutout Stevenschant you started was pretty catchy.”
Natalie shrugs, the furthest thing from apologetic. “I grew up in Alleghany, just like you grew up in Glenmont. You don’t own the fucking rivalry,Liam.”
I hate how I’m absorbing more than her words. How I’m paying attention to her expressions. To the defiant edge in her voice. To the jean shorts and white t-shirt she’s wearing.
I’m the nice guy. The steady, approachable one who never gets drunk or handsy at a party. Who shows up—for class, for friends, for football. I thought those were the same traits I’m attracted to in a girl. But the rush I’m experiencing right now, talking with her?
It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt.
Natalie takes my lack of attention as purposeful rather than inexplicable. She huffs and turns to leave.
Surprising us both, I stop her. I grab her arm like a reflex and drop it just as fast, shoving my hands in my pockets in case the strange urge strikes again. “I’ve been looking forward to this weekend,” I tell her. “I don’t want to spend it harping on the rivalry shit. Ruin it for everyone else.”
Natalie crosses her arms. “You’re the one who can’t letthe rivalry shitgo.”
“I’m saying I will, okay? For the weekend. As long asyoudo.”
At that, she snorts. But Natalie drops her defensive posture. Her hands fall back to her sides. “You’re severely overestimating the amount of time I spend thinking about you, Liam Stevens.”
I roll my eyes and hold out a hand. “Fourth of July truce?”
Natalie takes it. But neither of us are shaking, so we’re basically just holding hands. “Ironic, for a holiday celebrating a falling out.”
“I think the Revolutionary War was more than a ‘falling out,’” I reply. “I guess it’s not surprising the Alleghany school system plays fast and loose with the facts.”
“Congrats, you just set a world record for shortest truce.”
I surprise myself—not to mention her—by smiling. “For a cheerleader, you’re awfully focused on following rules.”
“What isthatsupposed to mean?”
“I mean, does cheerleading evenhaverules?”
Natalie’s eyes flash. For some reason, I really want to smile again. I enjoy arguing with her. Usually, mentions of the rivalry with Alleghany feel like rubbing a raw wound. Right now, it feels like an inside joke. I can’t figure out why. Because Alleghany and Glenmont are several hours away?
“Newsflash,Mr. Backup to the Backup Quarterback. I could throw a football, no problem. I would like to seeyouperform a basket toss.”
This time, I don’t hold the grin back. “How do you know I’m third string?”
A wrinkle forms between her eyes, marring otherwise smooth skin. “What?”
“You heard me the first time.” I raise both brows.
Natalie hesitates for the first time. Then, “Some of the guys were talking about it.”
“Making fun of me, you mean.”
Her chin tilts up defiantly. But her words aren’t an attack. “Most freshman ride the bench.”
“Uh-huh.” Weston doesn’t, and I think we’re both thinking it. But he hasn’t come up at all over the course of this conversation, and I’m glad. I’m sick of talking about him. “Do you cheer at BU?”
Natalie blinks at me before recovering. A small, sly smile tips up one corner of her mouth. “Looked up more than my name, huh?”
“Maybe I asked around about you. Not everyone is attached to their phone.”
“You didn’t ask around.”
“What makes you so sure?”
