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I try to retain everything about this moment because I can feel it’s one ofthose. A snippet of time I’ll look back on and want to relive. Over and over and over again. I’m not thinking about anything. My mind goes blank. I just feel and observe. Details imprint on my brain.
The way Maeve’s hair looks like spun gold in the soft light.
The sound of the rain lashing angrily against the metal roof above us.
The pleasure unfurling across her freckled face as I touch her everywhere.
Afterwards, Maeve lays snuggled against me, tucked under my throwing arm like a football. Reality filters back in, and with it comes the chilly air. Not much of the heat from the wood stove has diffused upstairs yet. I feel Maeve shiver, so I sit up and lean over to grab the blue gym bag that I left on the floor. I haul it on the bed with us and start pulling clothes out.
“I think I have a sweatshirt in here.”
“I’ll just wear this.”
I look over to see Maeve is pulling the silky material of my football jersey over her head. A sight I never thought I would see. Maeve Stevens wearing a blue Alleghany Football jersey.
She looks like a goddamn fantasy—my goddamn fantasy—as she gives me a coy smile in response to the lust I’m sure is prominently displayed on my face.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
“You like?” Maeve asks, grinning deviously as she stands on the side of the bed, not constrained by the smaller one above to give me the full effect. The blue fabric falls to her mid-thigh, and she twists so I can see my name and number displayed on her back.
I grab Maeve’s bare legs, forcing her to tumble down on top of me.
“I love,” I correct. I pause, teetering on the edge of a declaration that will upend our relationship for the second time tonight. I tip. “I love you, Maeve.”
She just stares at me for a protracted moment. Her face is blank with shock, giving me absolutely no indication of how she feels about my statement. I doubt it’s been more than a few seconds, but it seems like hours. I’m starting to panic when she finally speaks.
“You know, you were supposed to tell me you love me before we had sex. Or during. So I could second guess everything and wonder if you only said it to get laid or in the throes of passion.”
I laugh. Only Maeve would use the phrase “throes of passion.”
“Well, it’s the first time I’ve said it,” I admit to her. “So, figures I would do it wrong. I’m only good at one thing, remember?”
I watch as some of the moisture that’s collected in Maeve’s eyes spills over.
“I love you, Weston Cole.”
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
MAEVE
Aweek after my birthday, I enter my room and drop my backpack and soccer bag on the ground. I turn, and Sarah’s sitting in my bed.
I jump.
“Shit, Sarah, you scared me. What are you doing in here?”
“I stopped by to see you. Your mom let me in before she left for a showing. She seemed surprised to see me… since apparently you spent several hours at my house last night?”
Crap.
“I must have said your house instead of Brooke’s by mistake,” I lie, pulling off my jacket and draping it on my chair.
“I was at Brooke’s last night working on our English project,” Sarah says flatly. “And you weren’t at her house either. What the hell is going on with you lately, Maeve? You’re hardly ever around anymore, and you’re acting strange when you are.”
I sigh. “Nothing’s going on. I’m good, I promise. Just busy.”
“Then where were you last night? Hell, where have you been the past few months? And don’t say school, or soccer, or student council. Because you’ve always juggled all that before and still hung out with us.”
