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“She’s not my type.”
“Because she physically assaulted you twice in about thirty seconds?”
I roll my eyes. “No. She’s just…she’s just not.”
“Is Becca?”
“Becca, as in your friend, Becca?”
“Mm-hmm. She’s notnotinterested. And I told her I wouldn’t say anything, but I know you. You never make the first move.”
“I don’t think me dating your friend is a good idea, Maeve.”
“Of course it isn’t. Unless you get married, and she becomes my sister-in-law. Then, it’s a great idea.”
“I’m not looking for anything serious right now.”
“Right,” Maeve drawls. “The standard motto of fuckboys everywhere.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Okay. Fine. I won’t bring it up again. I just think it’s a good idea for you to focus less on football. Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t be as bothered by everything with Dad. Just because it’s his number one priority doesn’t mean it has to be yours.”
I say nothing to that, even though I know she’s right. Problem is, I don’t know how to separate myself and football. They’ve become so intertwined it’s hard to know where the sport stops and I begin. School has been important because good grades ensure I can play. Most of my close friends are on the team with me. And, honestly, a part of me loves it.
But that’s not why I won’t be going to the party under the pier tonight.
The only girl Iwouldwant something serious with won’t be there.
CHAPTERTWENTY
NATALIE
“Now I know why you never invited us over in high school,” Madeline says, taking a long sip of wine and then leaning back in the chair. “I would have tried to move in.”
I smile as everyone laughs.
We’re in my backyard, drinking wine and eating takeout. My mom has been gone for a week. I’ve barely seen my dad, but I’ve abided by his one rule, returning home exactly at 10:59 every night.
When Madeline suggested we get dinner before the party in Fayetteville we’re planning to head to tonight, I offered to host. And since I never had before, everyone immediately jumped on it. Now we’re relaxing in the backyard.
It’s not large—the house is big for this lot. But it’s well-manicured by a landscaping company my mother hired. All the plantings are green and lush, including sculpted bushes and blue hydrangeas. There’s a pergola that covers the patio, with wooden beams over it snaked by vines.
Up until this week, I’d barely spent any time out here. I basically came home to sleep, nothing else.
Tory leans forward to pour more wine. “Seriously.”
“I thought you were driving,” Madeline tells her.
“No, that’s Jess.”
Jess shrugs. “Fine with me.”
Gravel crunches. We all turn to watch the black Mercedes roll up the driveway.
“That your dad?” Madeline asks.
I take a large swallow of wine. “Yeah.”
