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He’s chipped away at one of the things I thought was set in stone for months, and with one bout of jealousy, I just forever altered it.
I’m from Glenmont. I’m obligated to hate anyone from Alleghany.
And I don’t hate Weston Cole. I love him.
Most girls would probably be thrilled about this realization. And a part of me is. But it also poses a serious problem with no easy answer.
I’m screwed either way now.
I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, between Glenmont and Alleghany.
Between love for Wes and my allegiance to my hometown. To my father and brother.
When I re-emerge into the living room, it’s to find Wes has started a fire in the wood stove. It fills the room with a cozy crackling sound and welcome heat. He’s also sprawled across the massive couch, looking completely at ease. His expression doesn’t change when he looks at me, and I’m relieved. I was half-worried he’d be able to read my amorous feelings for him on my face.
“I was going to start a fire in the fireplace instead, but I wasn’t sure how long you wanted to stay for,” he explains. “The wood stove can just die down on its own.”
“I’m good to stay for a bit,” I tell him. “My parents think I’m at Sarah’s still and won’t be expecting me back for a while.”
I take a seat on the opposite end of the couch. It’s a testament to its length we’re both able to fit. Wes is easily over six feet, and I’m five foot eight.
“You have your trip tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah,” Wes replies. “It was supposed to be right before Thanksgiving break, but I was nominated for this award, and Coach Blake said I needed to attend.”
“An award?” I ask.
Wes is confident, but I wouldn’t describe him as cocky. At least around me. So I’m not surprised he looks a little sheepish when he replies. I’m guessing it’s also because the sport he plays is a sensitive subject between us.
“Yeah, it’s for the senior who contributed the most to the school’s athletic program. They don’t give it out every year, so it’s kind of a big deal, I guess.”
“Sounds like a big deal to me.”
Wes shrugs a silent affirmation.
His reluctance emboldens me. “Do you think you’ll win? Against Glenmont?” I ask, despite the epiphany I just had in the bathroom.
Maybe because of it.
We’re rapidly approaching the peak of the Alleghany and Glenmont rivalry. The moment everyone’s been anticipating ever since Weston Cole and Liam Stevens first collided as freshman. The finale.
Everyone but me.
Everyone else has already chosen their side.
Everyone will think they know which side I’m on.
But I don’t.
Wes had been staring at the fireplace, but his eyes leap to mine as soon as the words leave my mouth.
“Do I think we’ll win?” he repeats.
It’s my turn to nod. I keep my face blank, not wanting to sway his response one way or the other. I know how badly Liam wants this, but I know Wes does too. And I don’t think Wes will lie to me.
“Yeah, I do,” he tells me seriously, and I feel a rush of elation and unease.
Elation, because I want him to succeed. Unease, because him succeeding means other people I care about won’t. Not just my father and Liam, but Matt, Sam, all the Glenmont players who I’ve watched prepare for the final battle against Alleghany with single-minded determination.
