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I look over, and burning questions fill her eyes.
I shake my head and turn up the music.
CHAPTERTWENTY
WESTON
I’m drunk. And furious. It’s a lethal combination.
I’m mad that the game got canceled when we were going to win.
I’m mad that Coach Blake announced on the bus ride back the game was rescheduled for next Friday. Meaning I have to wait a whole week to get closure against Glenmont. Meaning my parents won’t be there because my father has a business trip scheduled and my mother will go because she feels like she has to babysit him.
I’m mad that it’s raining and I’m stuck in Josh’s hot, stuffy basement.
And I’m so fucking pissed at Maeve Stevens I can hardly think straight. I hate that she came here. Hate that I care. Hate the confused stares I’m receiving after the vitriol she publicly spewed my way.
Most of all, I hate that it doesn’t make sense. She should be consoling Matt Crawford right now. Instead, she came here and yelled at me. In front of half the football team.
Charlie makes his way over to me, and I hastily crack open another beer and take a long sip. “Jesus, Cole, leave some for the rest of us.”
I shrug and take another long pull from the can.
“You alright, dude?” Charlie asks. I’ve been in a shitty mood all day, and I know it hasn’t escaped anyone’s notice. I’m usually easy-going when it comes to football. Serious, but I don’t let it become more than a game. That wasn’t the case tonight. I was merciless.
I like to lead by example. Tonight, I shouted at anyone who stepped a toe out of line.
“I’m fine. Celebrating.” The words sound flat to my own ears.
“Adam said Maeve Stevens was here. What the fuck?”
I clench my fists at the reminder, and the metal can contracts loudly in protest. I take another sip from the bowed shape.
“Cole, you’re kind of freaking me out. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I grit out. “Maeve Stevens hates me. No surprise there.”
“I’m not surprised about that. I’m surprised you’re acting like you give a shit.”
“I don’t.”
“Is it your parents?” Charlie knows my home life is far from idyllic, but I’ve never told him the full extent of it. Only her. And that only makes me angrier.
I told her I couldn’t forgive cheating, but that was before I was in love with her.
I know my mother’s decision to tag along on all my dad’s business trips back to the city to “catch up with friends” is simply an excuse. She’s going to try to curb my father’s wandering eye. I don’t feel that way about Maeve. The possibility she might cheat on me never crossed my mind until I saw that photo.
Is that because I love her more than my parents love each other? Or because I want to believe her? That she somehow ended up on Alleghany’s football field with another guy’s tongue down her throat by accident?
It doesn’t make any sense, but neither does anything else. Despite the accusations I flung at her last night, I don’t really believe Maeve went into our relationship with any nefarious intentions. It was too unexpected, too genuine. Too risky. She had as much on the line as I did. Maybe more.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I finally answer. My voice is hollow. I’m wavering, and I hate myself for it. But it’s nothing compared to how loathsome I felt when I saw the look on Maeve’s face after I kissed Natalie in front of her.
A junior linebacker stumbles over to us. “Sick throws tonight, Cole.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, taking another long drag of beer and hoping he’ll take the hint.
“Who was that hot blonde yelling at you? I’ve never seen her before. Man, I would love to get a piece—”
