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“Yeah, it does suck.” Weston takes a swig from the bottle he’s holding.
I look down and study his hands. A bead of condensation rolls off the neck of the bottle and along his tanned, calloused skin before dripping silently to the dirt ground. His hands look older. Mature. Masculine. I imagine what it would feel like to touch them, and an unfamiliar heat spreads through my entire body.
“I don’t think I could ever forgive cheating.” I blurt the words to distract myself from the unsettling direction my thoughts have taken.
Weston studies me for a long moment. I take the opportunity to scrutinize him back and am unnerved to realize I understand what some of the girls at school have been going on about. I judged them at the time, so I guess I’m the hypocrite now.
“Me neither,” Weston eventually says. He takes another long drink from his bottle of beer, draining it entirely. “I’d better get going.”
The rush of disappointment is unexpected.
He stands, and he’s even taller than I thought. Definitely taller than me, which is more than most of the boys in Glenmont can say.
“See you around, Maeve.”
I’m not sure, but it seems like he uses just my first name on purpose.
“Bye, Weston.”
He disappears into the darkness, headed back in the direction of the partying taking place around the cabin.
I replay our bizarre conversation in my head, lingering on Weston’s admissions about his parents. I remember them from the game last fall. Cheering loudly opposite a sea of shocked, silent Glenmont fans. His father was wearing a suit, and his mother’s appearance was carefully put together.
Like Weston said, they’re clearly the type of people who care what others think of them. Who wouldn’t want rumors of adultery swirling around. They moved from the city to escape speculation, and in our two towns? One whisper would ensure the conjecture never ended.
Weston Cole just handed me the means to eradicate him. And I’m not the least bit tempted to do so. Not because I’m a moral, upstanding person, although I’d like to think I am.
Because I don’t want to ensure I’ll never see him again.
And that right there should have been my first clue.
Weston fucking Cole still applies, just for a different reason.
CHAPTERTWO
MAEVE
Summer Before Senior Year
“This is too weird, Maggie. They’re not even going to let me past the front door.”
“Of course they are. You lookhot.” Maggie surveys the short green dress I’m wearing—her short green dress—with a satisfied smile. I caved after ten minutes of her complaining about the worn jean shorts I showed up at her house in.
A new record for her; a new low for me.
“That’s not what I meant. This is not like the Fayetteville ones we’ve gone to. We are literally in enemy territory!” I whisper the last sentence to her, since we’re rapidly approaching the brick path of the stately house that’s our destination.
Or at least Maggie’s destination. I’m still considering fleeing.
“Are you forgetting I live here now?” Maggie asks. Her parents’ divorce was finalized three weeks ago, and Maggie’s mother opted to erect the iron wall known as the Alleghany-Glenmont rivalry between herself and her ex-husband in celebration.
Meaning one of my best friends is now a resident of the town I was raised to hate.
Notthe way I envisioned starting the summer before senior year.
“I’m trying to,” I reply honestly.
“It’s not like I had a choice in the matter, Maeve,” she responds, and I feel a fresh twinge of guilt. Cheering Maggie up is the only reason I agreed to go out with her tonight in the first place, since Brooke and Sarah have already left on their annual trip to Maine, and I know she’s having trouble adjusting to living in Alleghany. She just neglected to mention our destination happened to be in her new hometown.
