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Matt scoffs. “I can’t believe they’re still doing long distance. I thought for sure that…” His voice trails as his hands tighten on the steering wheel.
I know exactly what Matt thought. He thought that when Weston and Maeve chose different colleges, that would be the end of their unlikely relationship. That they wouldn’t last through the summer after high school, let alone make it through the first year of college.
He wasn’t the only one who assumed—hoped—for that outcome. But our freshman year ended a month ago…and they’re still together.
Maeve ended up at Arlington University, same as me and Matt. Weston got a full ride to Lincoln University. Unlike me, who rode the bench as third string, his golden arm landed him the role of Lincoln’s starting quarterback.
Lincoln kicked our asses when we played them last fall. For the first time, I wasn’t the one on the field facing off against Weston, which I had mixed feelings about.
I sigh. “I’d better head in, man. Let me know if you hear anything about your bag.”
Someone took Matt’s backpack while we were playing pick-up at a park in Alleghany after work, which is why we ended up at the police station on a Thursday night. Since the crime rate in the county usually hovers right around zero, he’s hoping someone will turn it in and just grabbed it by accident. If not, he’ll have to deal with the headache of ordering new cards and IDs. His wallet was inside.
“Yeah. Sure.” Matt’s voice is glum. “You’re on the morning shift, right?”
“Yeah.”
Matt lifeguards with me at Glenmont’s only pool.
“Four p.m. tomorrow?” he asks.
I nod before climbing out of the truck and grabbing my football gear from the back. My feet drag as I head up the front walk, despite my grumbling stomach. I fish my house key out of the pocket of my mesh shorts and unlock the front door before pushing it open and stepping inside. My mom works in real estate and is insistent on locking it, even when someone’s home. I guess she’s heard too many stories about break-ins. Maybe I inherited my tendency toward cynicism from her.
A cold blast of air conditioning sucks away the humidity lingering in the June night. Voices echo from the dining room. I drop my bag in the front hall and walk past the staircase, toward the back of the house. The scene in front of me is an annoyingly familiar one—my mom, my dad, and…Weston Cole.
My eyes connect with my nemesis’s first. I don’t think it’s normal—to hold on to this much resentment toward one person. The emotions I feel from one mention of his name, or one glimpse of his smug face are like a tangled mess of rope.
Some of it has formed from petty, childish grievances. He’s a better football player—a better quarterback—than I am. I know it, he knows it,my dadsure knows it, and so does anyone else who attended an Alleghany versus Glenmont football game during the four years we played against each other.
I poured literal blood, sweat, and tears into preparing to lead Glenmont’s football team. Not just the years before starting high school, but every summer after. Training camps, extra drills, lifting weights, film sessions, memorizing plays until my brain felt numb. I did it all so I could beat Alleghany, and I never managed to.
I’m not sure there are many—any—worse feelings in the world than failing at the one goal you set for yourself. Over and over and over and over again. I didn’t beat Alleghany—didn’t beat him—once.
And then there’s Maeve.
My twin sister is smarter than I am. Brave and driven and focused. I never made any attempt to interfere with her love life, especially when my friends or teammates asked about her. I trusted her to make smart decisions—until she chose to get involved with the one guy I never thought she would.
I don’t think blindsided is the appropriate term to describe the revelation my sister turned down my best friend and fell in love with my worst enemy instead. More like getting hit by an eighteen-wheeler. I couldn’t see Matt and Maeve together. Her turning him down wasn’t much of a surprise to me. But Alleghany’s quarterback showing up at our house for dinner? Once? Twenty times? Without Maeve being home, like right now?
Yeah, that’s a punch to the gut. Still.
“Oh, good. You’re home.”
I look away from Weston, at my mom. She’s already in motion, standing, heading toward the doorway that leads to the kitchen and disappearing inside.
“I’ve got your plate all made up,” she calls.
Probably worried I’ll eat in the kitchen if she doesn’t bring it out here.
I pull out the chair across from Weston and take a seat. My muscles let out a sigh of relief as they relax. I pushed myself harder today than I should have, and the fact I’m already feeling the aftereffects is a bad sign. I’m going to have to pop a few painkillers before bed.
“You and Matt have fun?” my dad asks.
Unless it’s a session he personally oversees, he doesn’t consider any of my summer training to be contributing much to my progression off the bench. If not for the fact I think it would irrevocably alter our relationship, I think I’d be tempted to toss a football, turn around, and walk away at the end of our next session together, instead of standing around and listening to his critiques the way I always do.
Under the table, my fists clench, then release. “Yeah, sure. Running drills till I almost puked. Had a blast.”
“It’s not even July yet, Liam. If you overexert yourself now…”
