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Before I say anything else I can’t take back.
Before I let Weston Cole see me cry.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
MAEVE
I’m a zombie the next day. The only bright spot is I don’t have to see him at school. It’s also the worst part. I’ll see him at the game tonight, but that’s an annual event.
After tonight, there’s every possibility I’ll never see Weston Cole again. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I was trying to figure out how to tell Liam and my parents about him. It’s a dizzying change. And no one knows.
It feels like the world has just fallen out from under my feet, but to everyone else, my life looks unchanged. I’m grateful to be spared from the stares and the gossip I’ve seen my classmates endure after break-ups, but this is almost worse.
It’s like we never happened.
Never existed.
His name is a constant refrain in the halls throughout the day. I don’t have to see his messy brown hair or knowing blue eyes, but I can’t escape his presence.
Matt ignores me at lunch, but I’m too emotionally tapped out to care. I’m hurt, indignant, and incensed by the accusations Wes hurtled at me last night, but I also feel guilty and ashamed. I don’t know how I’d react if I received a photo of him kissing another girl, because the possibility never even crossed my mind. I doubt it crossed his.
Practice is brutal, and it’s a relief to focus on something besides the ache in my chest. But even pushing myself to the limits, I can’t bleach Wes’s disgusted expression from my mind. Forget his stinging words. Disregard the staccato of the basketball bouncing against the pavement, each ricochet pounding the pain deeper.
The whole team showers and changes in the locker room, and then we head over to the football stadium for Glenmont’s game against Alleghany.
I take a seat on the cold metal of the bleachers, surrounded by my teammates. Everyone around me is laughing and cheering. I feel like I’m going to throw up.
The nausea gets worse when Alleghany players begin trickling out onto the field. I scan them, but Wes isn’t one of the blue jerseys. Panic mixes with the stress. He wouldn’t skip the game. Not because of me. Right?
“Weston Cole looks pissed,” Becca says beside me. I don’t reply as I follow her gaze to see Wes is entering from the opposite end of the field.
Chris Fields is walking along next to him, talking urgently. Wes’s face looks like it’s carved from stone. I know the effortless confidence he’s known for on the field irks Liam, but the menace in his strides is intimidating, and I see him receive several double takes from the Glenmont football team. I wonder if that’s why he chose to take the long route onto the field.
Both teams fall into huddles around their captains, and I bounce my gaze between the two clusters. One royal blue, the other maroon. The groups disperse, most heading to the sidelines. Twenty-two head out onto the field.
Then, the game begins.
It’s brutal. And the bar was high after the last three years. It’s not even because of my own personal investment. Everyone feels it, and I see Sarah flash me a few concerned looks from her seat three rows down.
Probably because the shift is largely because of Wes. He’s always beaten Glenmont with an ease—an indifferent air.
Maybe it was because he moved here freshman year and didn’t grow up coming to these clashes the way the rest of us did.
Maybe it was to separate himself from his parents and their focus on perception, the way I theorized to him when we went swimming in the lake.
There’s no serene composure tonight. This game is personal. Because of me. It’s terrifying, realizing that power. Watching Wes bark orders and take risks. Watching his rage bleed across the field. I don’t want the responsibility.
And it’s not just personal toward me. I watch Matt take sack after sack. I’m not the only one who notices.
“Jesus,” Becca mutters. “Did I miss something at the start of the game? How did Matt manage to piss off Alleghany so much?”
I wince.
With two minutes left to go in the first quarter, Wes scores Alleghany’s first touchdown, breaking the deadlock at zero. There’s no sign of the showboating I’ve seen him perform at previous games, though. His expression barely changes as his teammates celebrate around him. He looks haughty, and I see him glance at Liam.
My brother stands like a statue as the scoreboard changes. He rarely lets emotion out; he gets quieter and stiller the more upset he gets. And this game was already progressing poorly, even before Wes’s touchdown.
Alleghany is the better team.
