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“You going for a run?”
“Yup. Needed a break from the card games. Plus, my training schedule has gotten a little out of whack this week.”
“Want some company?” Matt offers.
“Uh, sure,” I respond, surprised.
Matt has been one of Liam’s closest friends since elementary school, but I could probably count on one hand the number of times we’ve ever hung out together, just the two of us.
“Let me just grab my sneakers.” He stands and heads inside.
I take a seat on the front steps to wait for him.
He reappears a couple minutes later, and we start jogging down the street.
“I probably should have asked you this before, but how far do you usually run?” Matt asks.
I laugh. “It varies. Usually a few miles, but we can just go to the pier and back.”
“How far is the pier?”
“No idea,” I admit.
Matt chuckles. “Okay, I’m game.”
It takes us about a half hour to reach the pier. Matt keeps up with me, but I’m guessing he’s probably regretting joining me on this trip by the time we reach it. He sprawls across the sand as soon as we reach the beach, wheezing. I stop next to him and grin down as he pants.
“Come on, I’ll buy you a hot dog,” I offer. “And a drink.”
Matt hauls himself to his feet. “Lead the way.” We walk over to the hot dog stand, and I order two hot dogs and two waters. But when I go to pay, Matt brushes my hand aside and hands over the money instead.
“This was supposed to be my treat,” I say.
“I’ve got it, Maeve.”
“Okay,” I acquiesce. “Thanks.”
We walk back toward my grandparents’ once we have our food. Matt’s much chattier on the way back, but I’m not.
I’ve always looked forward to what’s become an annual trip to South Carolina. But as nice as this trip has been—the beach, the time with my grandparents, and the escape from routine—there’s someplace I’d rather be right now.
On a field of grass—actually anywhere—with Weston Cole.
CHAPTERNINE
WESTON
“Cheers to our dear, dear Weston,” Chris shouts. “It’s been such a joy watching you transform over these past three years. We never thought you’d amount to anything.” He pretends to wipe a tear off his cheek, and I snort. “LET’S PARTY, EAGLES!” he bellows before shotgunning a beer and cannonballing into the deep end of the pool.
As soon as he hits the water, loud music begins pumping through the backyard speakers again. I’m officially an adult, and Chris has taken the opportunity to throw the biggest, and final, bash of the summer.
“Happy Birthday, Weston,” a couple of girls say as they pass me.
“Thanks, ladies,” I reply, giving them a flirty smile.
I feel my phone vibrate and pull it out of the pocket of my swim trunks.Are you free tonight?
Eight days of radio silence, and that’s all she sends me. With anyone else, I’d be pissed. I waver on whether or not to reply right away. Annoyed with my uncharacteristic indecision, I sendNot until nineback to her.
