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“It must be a captain thing,” Adam contributes, strolling over to join our conversation. “Like if you insult one of them, you insult all of them, or something.”
I roll my eyes at them both. “That has nothing to do with it. But since you brought it up, the captain is typically the best player on the team. Which explains why neither of you two were selected.”
“Start looking for a new wide receiver, Cole,” Adam threatens as everyone else laughs.
“Please. If you’re worried about having a tough captain, go join the cheerleading team,” I tell him, winking at Natalie.
“Or the Glenmont girls’ soccer team,” Caroline adds. “Rumor is Maeve Stevens has her team training at six every day, plus she runs at the Glenmont track every night.”
“Are you serious?” Charlie gapes at her.
“Why do you think we lost?” Caroline asks. “We train hard, but she’s crazy dedicated. The warm-up drill they did before our last game against them was more intense than most of our practices.”
“I can’t believe a girls’ team…” Charlie’s voice trails off in response to the hard stares Natalie and Caroline give him. “That’s impressive.” He wisely opts to abandon his first statement.
The conversation finally changes to a topic entirely unrelated to Maeve Stevens, and I sit back and sip my beer as my friends plan a trip to the lake later in the week, nodding along to anything I’m asked without really registering what I’m agreeing to.
My thoughts are a million miles away. On shared secrets and scintillating green eyes and scorching kisses.
I thought meeting Maeve Stevens freshman year was an inconsequential blip.
I thought kissing her would allow me to forget her.
I was wrong about both.
CHAPTERFOUR
MAEVE
Ireach the finish line, sucking greedy breaths of cool air into my desperate lungs. Sweat trickles down my face as I reach for my phone to check the stopwatch.
“You were faster that time.”
I freeze, then stand straight and spin around. Weston Cole is walking across the Glenmont track toward me.
“I’d guess fifty-four seconds,” he adds.
I glance down at the phone in my hand. Fifty-three. “Have we met before?” I ask grumpily.
Weston grins. “Touché, Stevens.”
I take a long swig from my water bottle. “What are you doing here, Weston?”
“It’s Wes. And I wanted to see if the rumors are true.”
“What rumors?”
“That you run out here at night.”
“There are rumors about me?”
“You have no idea, Maeve.” Wes laughs but doesn’t look very amused.
I wait, hoping he’ll elaborate, but he doesn’t.
“What are you actually doing here?” I finally ask.
“Nothing else to do tonight.”
