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Maeve rattles off a long list of colleges. “Uh, Arlington has shown some interest too.” I can tell from the way she says the last school’s name that’s where she really wants to go. I know it’s where Coach Stevens both went and coached.
“Any of them would be lucky to have you. You kicked some serious ass earlier, Stevens.”
“Thanks, Wes,” she replies, almost shyly, and then silence falls between us. I let it stretch for a little while.
“Well, I don’t think ‘See you around’ is the right parting phrase in this situation, but I can’t come up with anything else,” I finally say.
Humor flashes in Maeve’s eyes. “I was going to go with, ‘It was nice kissing you.’”
I laugh. “That works. Bye, Maeve.”
I think I see regret in her eyes, but I’m not sure if it’s real or I’m projecting what I want to see.
“Bye, Wes,” she says, and I hang up.
Ending things between us is smart.
But I can’t help but feel like it was stupid not to fight for us harder.
CHAPTERTWELVE
MAEVE
I’ve lost it. Officially. It wasn’t when I spilled secrets to Weston Cole. It wasn’t when I let him kiss me. It wasn’t when I begged him to kiss me again. It’s right now.
It’s the only explanation for why I’m still in Alleghany.
After soccer practice ended earlier, I headed to Maggie’s house. I’ve barely seen her since senior year started, the first time we’ve been in separate schools since kindergarten.
She pumped me for information about everyone in Glenmont and then embarked on a long rant about Alleghany High. I tried not to visibly wince every time she said the name Weston Cole. And she said it a lot.
After making plans to see each other this weekend, I left, telling her I needed to head home for dinner. Which I do. I just somehow ended up at Wes’s house instead. At least I think it’s his house. We shared our locations with each other over the summer, and I’m banking on the fact he’s home right now.
If this is actually some random Alleghany girl’s house, I could be setting myself up for averyawkward encounter.
It’s been a week since Wes showed up at my soccer game with the entire Alleghany football team. All of my teammates were pissed that they came. The Glenmont football team has never shown us that kind of support at a home game.
I didn’t know what to think about their unexpected presence. Until Wes told me he came to see me play. With so much sincerity, it was impossible not to believe him. With so much sincerity, I had to get out. Because I was already in deep with Weston Cole. Deeper than I could believe I’d let myself sink.
So, I panicked, and I pushed him away. I went back to being the reliable, responsible Maeve Stevens.
Unfortunately, it turns out telling someone something doesn’t make you believe it.
Do I think about Wes any less? No. Have I magically come up with a solution for the fact that the two of us together is a terrible, forbidden idea? Also no. But I’ve realized that it’s a terrible, forbidden idea I want more than I want to be steadfast and loyal. That I can’t banish Weston Cole from my mind.
I bypass the house and park on the street a few doors down. Thankfully, Liam was out when I left, so I convinced my mom to let me borrow her car. NoGlenmont Footballbumper stickers. I lock the car and start along the sidewalk.
It’s a beautiful neighborhood—not that I’m surprised. The wide, pristine sidewalk is void of any scuffs or cracks, and the grass lining it is carefully mowed and adorned with flowerbeds every dozen feet. I stop in front of the house where Wes is showing up.
His Range Rover is parked in the driveway, along with two shiny Mercedes. The front yard is sprawling and immaculately maintained, and two massive oaks sit on either side of the brick walkway. All the lights are on downstairs, which is just starting to become necessary as dusk falls.
Two lights gleam upstairs, and I study the house, weighing my options. Should I ring the door? Text Wes? Leave?
A slight, dark-haired woman comes into view through the downstairs windows. Her face is twisted in anger, and I watch as a man follows her, also looking incensed. I dart forward, worried Wes’s parents are going to glance out on the lawn and see me standing here.
I end up at the periphery of their front flowerbeds, looking in the window. There’s a formal dining room on this side of the house, and a massive family portrait hangs over the fireplace. I let out a sigh of relief. At least I have the right house. And Wes’s car is here, meaning he’s home.
My interest in encountering either of Wes’s parents disappeared as soon as I saw them arguing. Which strikes ringing the doorbell like a normal person. I study the roof that overhangs their front porch. I’d estimate it’s about fifteen feet off the ground, and the railing diminishes about half the distance.
