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“Thanks, Fields.”
“Any time, Cole.”
It’s a relief to clear the air with Chris. The other source of contrition in my life? Much more convoluted. Worse than not knowing if I want to fix things after our talk this morning, I’m not even sure if things between me and Maeve are repairable.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
MAEVE
Ironically, my last name, one of the primary obstacles in my ill-fated relationship with Weston Cole, is what safeguards me in the hallways of Glenmont High.
I’m followed by rampant stares and whispers everywhere I go, but no one has been bold enough to ask me about the rumors directly.
The exception is Brooke, who drags me from Calculus all the way to the lunchroom on Tuesday and plants me at one of the corner tables. I’m incredibly grateful Thanksgiving is on Thursday, so I only have to make it through the rest of the day.
“Start talking, Maeve Stevens. Right now,” Brooke instructs.
I watch Sarah enter the room, look over at our usual table, and then make a beeline over to the new spot Brooke chose.
“Talk about what?” I ask, playing dumb.
“Oh, I don’t know…” Brooke taps a finger against her chin. “Oh, Idoknow! Maybe about how the entire school thinks there’s something going on between you and Weston fucking Cole?”
I roll my eyes at her dramatics. “What do people think is going on?” I ask carefully.
“Susan Andrews told me she saw him in the parking lot yesterday morning. And the general consensus seems to be the two of you got into some sort of screaming match at the soccer field?”
Sarah plops down in the seat next to me. “What did I miss?”
“Maeve was just about to clarify whether the rumors about Weston Cole are true,” Brooke supplies.
“Of course they’re true. I video-chatted with him in her bedroom last week.”
I close my eyes in anticipation of Brooke’s reaction. “You what?” she screeches.
“I went over to Maeve’s. Her mom was there and mentioned Maeve had been at my place the previous night. She hadn’t, so I confronted her about it, and she finally told me. I didn’t believe her, so she called Weston. He was actually shirtless for part of it, and I mean, I don’t normally go for the jock type, but he looked, I mean, he looked really good. I—”
“I’m right here, Sarah,” I interject.
“Sorry. I got sidetracked.”
“I noticed,” I state. “You also forgot we were going to keep that little interaction between us?”
Sarah has the good sense to look slightly abashed. “Right. Sorry.”
“You told Sarah, but you didn’t tell me?” Brooke asks, outraged.
“I wasn’t going to tell anyone!” I reply. “Sarah found out by accident, and I asked her not to say anything.” I send her a quick glance to emphasize my point, and she gives me a sheepish look in response.
“Whatever, we’ll get back to that. So, you did get into a screaming match with Weston Cole yesterday?” Brooke gets back on track with her original interrogation.
I cringe. “It wasn’t a screaming match, exactly… I’d characterize it more like a loud conversation.”
Brooke swats my words away like an irritating fly. “I couldn’t care less how you’re characterizing it. What was it about?”
“I’ve been—um, I kind of had a thing. With him.”
“You had a thing. With Weston fucking Cole?” Astonishment blankets every word and lingers on her face.
