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I eye him skeptically. “I know that’s not true. My friend Maggie said there’s a massive party at the same place as last night.”
Wes doesn’t deny it. “Yup.”
“So… why aren’t you there?”
“There are a few girls I’m trying to avoid.”
I wait, but that’s all he says. Is he trying to make me jealous? Did he actually just end up here randomly? I’m completely out of my element when it comes to Weston Cole.
“Huh,” I spit back his same non-answer from last night, and I think I catch a ghost of a smile in response.
“You don’t believe me?”
“Just not sure if I see the appeal.”
Wes takes a couple more steps closer to me. Only one lane remains between us.
“Really?” He quirks a brow.
I’m usually full of false bravado with boys. I flirt, I quip, I tease.
Because I know I’ll never have to follow it through with a Glenmont guy. There’s a certain stigma that comes with being related to two integral parts of the beloved football team, despite the fact they both couldn’t care less who I date. My father actually asked me why I went to prom last year with a basketball player from Fayetteville rather than a guy from his football team.
I have no protection or assurances when it comes to Weston Cole, however. Because I think he would follow through. Hell, his suggestive smirk all but promises it.
It’s a thrilling prospect. It’s also a terrible idea.
I break eye contact to wipe my damp face with the light jacket I brought and shed when I started sweating.
“So… do you need a sprint buddy?” Wes takes my subtle rejection in stride.
I eye him uncertainly. “Are you serious?”
“Did you find my offer funny?” Weston asks. I roll my eyes in response. “I lifted earlier, but I should do some cardio too. I’ve broken forty-seven on this drill before.”
“You have?” I don’t bother to hide my surprise as I bend down to set up a second set of cones for him.
“What? You thought the only thing I’m good at is kissing?” I knock over the cone I just set down and hear a low chuckle in response.
I straighten the orange plastic and stand. “I thought the only thing you’re decent at is throwing a football,” I reply evenly.
“Is that a compliment, Stevens?”
“I’ve seen your stats, Cole. Unfortunately, I’m just stating facts.”
“You looked up my stats?” He gives me a cocky grin.
I snort. “As if. They’re a frequent topic of conversation at the dinner table. Drives my mother crazy.”
“Not how you’ve broken two school records?”
I look over at him in shock. “You looked upmystats?” I echo his question.
“Yup,” he replies, unabashed.
“Why?” I can’t help but ask.
“I was curious. Glenmont’s heaping the athletic adulations on the wrong Stevens twin, if you ask me.”
