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“I know I am,” I grumble. “Do you know the average number of attendees at our games last season? Fifteen! After twelve hours of practice a week! You guys gossip for one hour at most, and the whole school shows up for the cheerleading competition. It’s infuriating!”

“Hey, I was one of the fifteen spectators,” Maggie reminds me.

“I know.” I sigh. “Rant over.”

Maggie laughs. “Just ask—” She abruptly stops talking. “He’s here!”

I follow her gaze, and sure enough, a blond guy is walking over to the cabin with two darker haired boys. He’s looking around anxiously the same way Maggie’s been doing ever since we first arrived.

“How do I look?” Maggie asks, fiddling with the hem of her light pink dress.

“You look gorgeous,” I assure her.

“Okay, wish me luck!” Maggie says before taking off in the guy’s direction. I watch as she approaches him. As soon as the blond boy spots her, he gives her a bashful grin of greeting before introducing Maggie to his companions.

Satisfied he’s not a serial killer, I pull my phone out of my pocket and send Maggie a quick text, letting her know I’m walking down to the lake and to text me if she needs me. I skirt the assembled partygoers and slip between two large maples into the wooded stretch separating the cabin from the lake.

A carpet of moss covered with years of decaying leaves muffles my footfalls as I head deeper into the woods. The shouts, loud music, and laughter start to fade away.

I stumble down what seems like it was once a path, but years of neglect have left it overgrown and gnarled. I’m grateful for the worn sneakers I’m wearing as I navigate the uneven terrain.

A sigh of relief escapes me when I spot a fallen log up ahead, just before the growth begins to recede in response to the less hospitable, sandy soil surrounding the immediate lake.

Quickening my pace, I almost fall when my foot gets caught on an errant tree root. Finally reaching my destination, I plop down on the dead tree, looking out at the calm, dark surface of the water. The thick canopy of leaves above only allows a few small patches of moonlight to filter down to the forest floor.

I balance the red can of cola on my denim-clad knee so I can pull my blonde hair out of the messy ponytail I’ve had it in all day. It tumbles down around my shoulders in a comforting curtain, and I take a sip of soda, finally relaxing for the first time since we arrived.

It’s not until an unfamiliar voice speaks that I realize I’m not alone. “Are you drunk?”

I almost drop the can I’m clutching as my eyes dart to the right, trying to peer through the darkness that surrounds me. A shadowed figure is barely visible on the opposite end of the log. It moves closer to me, and I tense, wondering if I should run. Scream.

A beam of moonlight illuminates the silhouette, and I immediately recognize who it is.

Weston fucking Cole.

I’m sure he has an actual middle name that’s not profanity, but that’s how he’s known in the halls of Glenmont High.

This is only the second time I’ve seen him in person, and the first time up close. His light brown hair is windswept, and his white teeth gleam in the darkness. Even though he’s sitting, I can tell he’s tall. Imposing.

He’s also staring at me expectantly, and I realize he’s waiting for me to answer his question. “It sounded like a herd of elephants was coming through the forest,” he elaborates.

I hold up the can of cola. “Not drunk. Just clumsy.”

He nods, looking relieved, although I can’t help but notice he’s clutching a beer bottle himself. I hate hypocrites.

I’m about to stand and leave when he speaks again.

“I’m Weston. Cole.” His voice is deep and confident but absent of the arrogance I expect to hear based on the stories I’ve heard about him.

“I know,” I admit. “I’m Maeve.” I pause, tempted not to share my last name. Reluctantly, I add, “Maeve Stevens.”

Weston’s eyes widen slightly, giving me a better glimpse of their distinctive cerulean shade. “Ah.”

I sigh. “You know who I am.” It’s a meaningless statement; of course he does.

“I know who your father and brother are,” Weston confirms.

I look over at him and smile slightly. “Not many people make that distinction.”

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