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“I don’t usually sleep past six. I can wake you—before anyone else.”
The sound of his voice heats my cheeks. He’s not asking me to stay, but he’s telling me I can.
“Okay.”
I close my eyes, deciding I’ll lie here for a bit and then sneak back across the hall.
CHAPTERELEVEN
LIAM
She’s gone when I wake up.
That’s the first thought I register. Waking up in bed alone is a regular occurrence, yet it immediately feels wrong. I’m worried about what it means, which is silly. Last night was a onetime thing.
And it wasn’t a dream. My skin still has the sticky residue of salt water. The sheets next to me smell like her—likeus. And the wrapper for the condom I’ve carried around for the past year is on the floor, a crushed tissue beside it.
Natalie and I had sex last night.
Part of me is rushing to unpack the potential repercussions, while the rest of me is just absorbing that fact.
I knew there was a chance she’d be outside when I woke up in the middle of the night and walked downstairs. I didn’t think she’d be standing at the water’s edge, looking out at the ocean. I didn’t think through approaching her. I sure as hell didn’t think through suggesting we skinny-dip, or anything else that followed.
But I don’t regret any of it. I liked being the guy who leaps, then looks, for once.
After making the bed and cleaning up the room, I dress in my typical summer uniform: basketball shorts and a cotton t-shirt.
I open the bedroom door and startle. “Jesus, Parker. What the hell?”
Parker blinks at me sleepily from his spot against the wall at the top of the stairs. “Morning,” he mumbles, rubbing his jaw. “Didn’t want to miss your run. I need to get my ass in shape, and I won’t go out alone.”
I don’t say what I’m thinking—that I was hoping to spend this morning’s run deciphering some of the feelings I have about last night. And I don’t ask if he noticed Natalie sneaking out of my room. If he had, I’m certain he would have led with that. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Parker gives me a side glance once we’re outside and jogging down the street. “Did you have fun last night?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“You should come back for Labor Day weekend,” Parker tells me. “Enjoy the end of summer. And Tessa will already be in Boston, so no chance of your ‘mortal enemy’ being around.”
I laugh. In reality, I’m thinking Natalie has turned into an enticement instead of a deterrent. It doesn’t matter either way, though. “I’ll be back on campus for preseason.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Parker realizes. “Man, I don’t know how you do it.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
At least, I’ve never felt like I had one. My whole life, football has been a constant. I’ve always known exactly what was expected—seen the path laid out before me. And while my father has never handed out traditional praise, I know that he wouldn’t have kept telling me to pull on a jersey withStevenson the back if he didn’t think I have what it takes to succeed in the sport.
Playing against Alleghany was given extra weight because of the rivalry. There were plenty of other good teams we played and beat. If winning against Alleghany hadn’t been set as the metric for success, my high school football career would read like a very different story.
“Well, see if you can play hooky for a weekend.”
“I’ll think about it,” I say, knowing the chances are next to nothing.
Being third string doesn’t give me a free pass when it comes to anything. Just equal responsibility and no playing time. My dad left a legacy behind—both as a player and as a coach. Messing with that isn’t much of an option.
Parker drops it. We talk about plans for the rest of summer and about the start of sophomore year as we reach the beach and continue running. Halfway back to the cottage, I spot Audrey. Unlike the past couple of mornings, she’s not alone.
There’s a girl with a blonde ponytail crouched down in the sand, petting Audrey’s dog. Something seizes in my stomach.
