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We enter the kitchen, and it’s not as crowded as I thought it would be. Maggie was right about the guest list being exclusive, apparently.
She strides confidently toward the assortment of alcohol spread out on the kitchen island, and I trail after her. She grabs a cup and begins splashing the contents of various bottles inside. I open the fridge, only to discover it’s filled with nothing to drink besides beer.
Sighing, I take a plastic cup and fill it half-way with water from the tap. I was hoping for something with caffeine. I’ve been up for—I check the clock on the stove—sixteen hours, and I’m supposed to be up in another seven.
I contemplate the odds of getting more than five hours of sleep as I watch Maggie chug a generous portion of the liquid in her cup. She swallows and meets my gaze.
“Come on,Mae,” she teases, linking our arms to pull me back toward the living room. “Lighten up. It’s a party!”
“Yeah, thank you very much for the adorable nickname,” I grumble. “I thought you said—” I stop talking when I realize Maggie’s not listening to me anymore. I follow her gaze and promptly lose my train of thought when I see who has just entered the kitchen.
Weston fucking Cole.
I knew—hoped—he would be here. If I’m being honest with myself, it’s the primary reason I walked through the door once I realized we were in Alleghany. Glimpses of him on the field during his sophomore and junior year victories over Glenmont are all I’ve seen of him since the brief, revelatory conversation we had at the very end of our freshman year.
The past two years have been kind to him. One could say overly generous. All traces of boyhood have left his face.
He was attractive before.
He’s devastating now.
His cheekbones are prominent and pronounced; his eyes sharp and assessing. Light brown hair falls in a careless disarray across his forehead, and he’s sporting a light layer of stubble. I think back to the sight of his hands clutching that beer bottle, how mature they seemed for a boy his age. The rest of him has caught up. A faded navy t-shirt does nothing to hide his powerful, lean physique and broad shoulders.
But more than anything, it’s the condescending expression that’s different from the last time I saw him up close.
He looks colder now. Aloof and detached. Like a conquering hero.
Although villain would be more accurate, since his victory means my defeat. My family’s defeat. Liam didn’t talk for two days after we lost to Alleghany for the third time in a row last fall.
Weston’s face is lofty, but his eyes are piercing. I hold his probing gaze as I wait to see what he’ll do.
“Cole!”
Weston looks at someone behind me. Then, he simply walks past me.
I’m shocked by how much his indifference bothers me.
Annoyed I can’t tell whether it is feigned or genuine.
I’ve spent an embarrassing amount of time wondering what he would say or do if I ever ran into him again. Blatant disregard was not a scenario I hoped for.
Maggie giggles beside me. “Holy shit, that was Weston Cole. He’s so hot.”
I glare at her, unthinkingly.
She rolls her eyes. “I live in Alleghany now, okay? One of the few perks—actually the only one so far—is that I’m allowed to appreciate an Eagle.TheEagle.” It’s unsettling to realize the petty rivalry wasn’t why I was glaring. “Plus, you know most of the girls in Glenmont think the same. They just won’t say so in front of you anymore.”
“What? Why?” I ask.
“Because Liam’s your twin,” Maggie replies. “And whenever Weston Cole comes up around him, he looks like he wants to punch something.”
“Oh, right,” I respond, taking a sip of my water as we walk back into the living room. I have to resist the temptation to look back behind me as we do.
Maggie gives me a strange glance but doesn’t say anything else as we head over to the same group of cheerleaders. The one who spoke before, Madeline, is missing, and just as Maggie predicted, we receive a much friendlier greeting this time around. I mostly tune out their conversation as I continue to take sips from my cup, bored by their conversation about people I’ve never met and never will.
I only tune back into their gossiping when Maggie responds to a query about where a girl named Abby is. “I don’t know. I stopped paying attention to anyone else in the kitchen when Weston arrived.”
“He’s here?” the girl who asked about Abby squeals.
