I wish I did. Does he regret the kiss? Was I too aggressive? Am I a bad kisser? Is that why he hasn’t been talking to me? Is he too embarrassed to tell me that I was an idiot to think he wanted to kiss me?
My stomach churns just thinking about it. And the one person I really want to talk to about my problem, the person I always flush out my anxieties with . . . is the one person I can’t talk to right now. Because he’s the problem. And there is no way I could tell Eve. She’s accused me so many times of looking at Rogan with—as she puts it—googly eyes. She would just say I told you so and offer zero advice.
Do you know what’s even worse, though? Eve is right. This past summer, something changed inside me. Instead of seeing Rogan as my best friend, I’ve been catching glimpses of the man he’s becoming. He grew a few inches and put on so much muscle. His biceps are deliciously strong and chiseled; his shoulders and pecs are unlike anything I’ve seen on any other boy in town, and that roguish smirk of his? It wasn’t teasing anymore; it was sexy.
This past summer I finally came to the realization that I was crushing on my best friend. Crushing hard.
I tried to play it cool whenever we hung out, telling myself I would get over it, but with every passing day, my crush only grew.
Every time he looked at me with those vivid blue eyes, I found myself falling harder and faster. And whenever he pulled me to his side, laughing as we walked down Main Street on our way to get ice cream, I’d find myself wishing that instead of holding my shoulder, he would reach down and hold my hand.
But now everything is messed up, and I don’t know how to fix it.
“Why are we at this game again?” Eve asks, bouncing up and down. “It’s not even regular season.”
Good question. Normally, we’d just be here for Rogan, but it’s complicated now. I’m really here because I miss Rogan and wanted to be able to stare at him without getting caught. And that’s what I’ve done the entire game; I’ve kept my eyes on number thirty-six, never straying away.
I sip my hot chocolate, which has quickly gone lukewarm from the unseasonably cold night. “Because it’s nice to support your friends, and what else were we going to do on a Friday night?”
“I don’t know,” Eve answers sarcastically. “Maybe watch a movie under a pile of blankets while sharing a bowl of popcorn.”
As much as that sounds appealing to my frozen appendages, there is no way my heart would have allowed it. No, my heart wants to be here, in this stadium, watching over Rogan and internally cheering him on even though things are really weird with us right now.
“Think of it as a warm-up for the rest of the season.”
“If this is a warm-up, consider giving me Cliff Notes every Friday night, because there’s no way I can endure this kind of weather all season.”
“Eve, you live in Maine. You should be used to the cold by now. Plus this is Rogan’s first game on the varsity team; he deserves our support.”
“I will never get used to this weather. I’m pretty sure I lived in Florida in another life.” Eve nods toward the middle section of the stadium. “Why aren’t you hanging out with the Knightlys anyway? Isn’t that who you usually watch games with?”
Yup, but given the current state of my relationship with Rogan and not knowing what the hell he’s told his family, I opted to sit as far away as I could.
“Ehh, I didn’t want to intrude on their family night, you know, this being Rogan’s first game on the varsity team and all.”
“Like that has ever mattered.” Eve bounces again. “I’m getting another hot chocolate. Do you want one?”
“The game’s almost over.”
Eve eyes the scoreboard. “Four minutes in football is really half an hour. I can’t live without a hot beverage for another half hour.” That’s surprisingly accurate. “So do you want one or not?”
“I’m good.”
“Okay, be back.” She takes off up the stairs to the concession stand.
With just my thoughts and my chilling hot chocolate, I spot Rogan on the field again. He isn’t the tallest, but he still towers over most of the players and easily looks the best in those tight white pants. Muscular thighs, firm butt, strong calves—he’s every girl’s dream in a football uniform, especially his biceps and how they pull on the cinched sleeves of his jersey.
I’ve seen him in his football jersey for years now—all through middle school and last year—but he didn’t look this good. The work he put in this summer in the gym really shows—not just in the way he wears his uniform but in the way he carries himself. There’s confidence in his stride, in how he speaks to his teammates and his coaches. How he hangs on to the neckline of his pads, thoroughly immersed in the next play.
He’s changed so much.
“Are you going to the Point tonight?” a girl’s voice asks.
I’m about to turn around and answer when I realize the question wasn’t for me. “I’m not sure, are you?” another girl answers.
“Of course. I heard Jared Barnes and Mookie Willows are going to be there.”
Mookie. I roll my eyes. The guy is a man slut. Everyone knows about his postgame ritual of picking a girl and taking her to his special spot at the Point—the highest point in Port Snow, which overlooks the trees and town—only to hook up and then ditch her later.
“Do you know what I heard?” Another voice chimes in. “Rogan Knightly is supposed to make an appearance.”
My heart hammers in my chest as I hold my breath. Rogan is going to the Point? There’s only one thing that happens there . . . people make out and hook up. And if he’s going but didn’t invite me, it can only mean one thing: he didn’t like my kiss at all.
“Is he really?”
“Yup, and he’s single. So that means fair game.”
“Isn’t he a sophomore?”
“Yeah, but he isn’t built like one. He looks like he belongs in college.”
“He sure does. My brother works out with him sometimes and says he’s a beast in the gym. Can bench press almost more than Jared, who holds the top record.”
“I call dibs.” I’m tempted to whip around, see which harlot is staking claim, but I don’t want to be intrusive or look desperate, so I keep to myself.
The time on the scoreboard dwindles, and before I know it, there’s a minute left. I have no desire to sit here in the stands and listen to the girls behind me talk about Rogan, not after our kiss and our weird silence.
Standing abruptly from my seat, I down the rest of my hot chocolate and start up the stadium steps—and run into Eve, who’s clutching two paper to-go cups of hot chocolate, a wisp of her chestnut hair clinging to her glossy lips.
“I know you said you didn’t want one, but I thought you could use it anyway.” She eyes me for a second. “What’s wrong?”
Tears prickle at my eyes. There’s no use hiding it. Rushing up the steps and through the stadium, Eve close behind me, I throw away my empty cup and find a private space to talk, an alcove wedged between the players’ tunnel and the bathrooms.
“What’s wrong?” Eve asks again.
I don’t tiptoe around it. I can’t. “I like Rogan.”
A small smile crosses her lips as she takes a sip from her cup. “Okay, so what’s the problem?”
The crowd starts to cheer as the clock ticks down. “I don’t know what to do about it. Apparently he’s going to the Point tonight, and all these girls who were standing behind me want to hook up with him.”
Eve looks past my shoulder to the field. “Well, then intercept him before he can make up his mind. Give him a reason not to go.” She passes me a fresh hot chocolate and tugs on my hand. “Come on.”
“What are you doing?”
“We’re going down to the tunnel, and you’re going to invite him somewhere else.”
“Are you insane?” I try to stop her, but she’s really strong, and before I can protest, I’m walking down the stairs to the players’ tunnel. “He’s not going to want to listen—”
The scoreboard blares, and the crowd goes wild as the announcer rattles off the score and the first preseason win for Port Snow.
“Better hurry up, or you’ll miss him.”
“I’m not going in the players’ tunnel. Only families are allowed in there.”
Eve stops in her tracks and turns toward me with a serious look on her face. “Listen here and listen good. I have watched you two for years, and if anyone belongs together, it’s you and Rogan. So don’t let me down.” She nudges me down the tunnel. “Now go, or else I am going to make your life a living hell by telling you I told you so every day for the rest of sophomore year.”
“What if he says no?”
“He won’t.” She gives me a nudge.
“But—”
She nods toward the tunnel. “They’re headed this way. Now or never. Do you want him going to the Point?” I shake my head, which spurs her on to give me another nudge. “Then get your butt down there. You can thank me later.”
With one last nudge, she takes off toward the parking lot, a skip in her step. Damn it.
Hot chocolate in hand, I contemplate bolting, as the click-clacking of cleats echoes toward me along with applause and cheers from family members.
I really don’t want Rogan to go off to the Point. I’m pretty sure that will destroy me, so I gather up all the courage I can muster and take a few steps into the tunnel, my eyes trained for number thirty-six.
Helmets are held at the waist, high fives are thrown around, and a parade of maroon comes traipsing down the tunnel while parents find their boys. I glance around for the Knightlys but don’t see them. Did they decide to wait since they have such a big group? I know they did that last year when Rogan was on the junior varsity team; they all met up outside the locker room instead. I remember, since I was with them. Now it almost feels weird that I’m not part of their group. Do they wonder where I am? Do they even care?
Nerves twist my stomach into tight knots as my heart and my brain go into an epic battle. Stay or go, stay or go?
My brain starts to win, and I’m about to turn when I catch sight of Rogan walking with one of his teammates, both laughing. Rogan’s brown hair is wet, his eye black is smudged down his face, and his white pants have green grass stains all over them.
He’s never looked sexier.
I grip my cup tightly, praying I don’t pop off the lid while I debate if I should call out to him or let him notice me. That’s if he notices me at all. He seems so immersed in his conversation that he very well might blow past me.
He closes the space between us, still focused on his teammate. There’s no way he’s going to see me, not with me blending in with the rest of the families. This was stupid. Really stupid.
I’m not staying here.
Slipping behind a cheering mom, I block myself from view and turn my back. If he wants to go to the Point, then that’s his decision.
I walk away, my heart splintering with each step. Eve is going to be disappointed, but maybe there’s a small chance I can salvage my friendship at some point with Rogan. It’s just going to take some time.
“Harper. Hey . . . Harper,” a voice calls out.
Wait, that’s Rogan.
I turn around to find him jogging up to me, helmet in hand and a confused look on his handsome face. “Hey, where are you going?”
Breath caught in my chest, I get lost in his captivating eyes as he steps in closer.
“Uh, I . . . umm, I don’t really know,” I answer, feeling dumb.
He glances behind him quickly before turning back to me. “Okay . . . well, I guess I’ll head back.” He turns away, and I squeeze my eyes shut in humiliation.
“Are you going to the Point tonight?” I ask before I can stop myself.
With confusion in those pretty blue eyes, his brow pinches together. “Where did you hear that?”
Oh God, is he angry?
Nervous, I twist my cup in my hand and look anywhere but him. “Just some girls who were in the stands behind me.”
“I see.” He’s silent for a second. “And why do you want to know?”
“I . . .” I clear my throat and glance up at him, my heart hammering in my chest. “I was hoping we could, you know . . . hang out tonight. But if you have plans to go to the Point and do . . . things, that’s fine. I just thought—”
“Snow Vale Manor? Meet me there in twenty minutes.” He tips my chin up, shocking me. “Thanks for coming to watch me play, Harp, it means a lot.”
“Uh, yeah.”
He walks backward, a smirk gracing his lips. “See you in a bit.” With a wink, he jogs off toward the locker room, leaving me in his wake, confused and excited.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ROGAN
There is no way in hell she’s here.
My family isn’t that cruel. Right?
From my car, I try to gauge the number of bodies in my parents’ house through the windows. Ugh, I can’t see shit.
She can’t possibly be at family dinner. My family loves Harper, but they wouldn’t invite her, not after I called my mom the other day, telling her to put her matchmaking skills to rest. She just chuckled but reassured me she knew what she was doing. Whatever the hell that means.
I was very adamant about leaving Harper alone. The Knightlys can be too much at times, and I’m sure we’re the last thing she needs right when she’s trying to settle back into town.
Resigning myself to the inevitable, I retrieve my keys from the ignition and make my way to the front door. Hand on the doorknob, I take a deep breath and walk into the house I grew up in. The warm walls and carefully hung family pictures greet me first, followed by my family’s raucous laughter emanating from the back of the house.
I remove my shoes and hang my suit jacket on the coat hanger by the front door before cautiously making my way down the long hallway to the connected kitchen and large dining room. Ren, Griffin’s girlfriend, is the first to spot me. She gives me a small smile and a little wave. The rest of the family is scattered around the kitchen as usual, getting in my parents’ way as they try to finish up the dinner prep.
Griffin sees me next. “Ah, you finally decided to join us.” He checks his watch. “I think that was eight minutes in the car. Who had eight minutes?”
Reid raises his hand and hops off the counter, grabbing a bowl from the center of the table and pocketing the wad of cash inside. “I know him too well.” Reid pats me on the back and slips me a one-dollar bill. “Here, this is for you. Thanks for taking eight minutes to prepare yourself to come in the house. Daddy is going to buy a new pair of jeans.” He pats his pockets.
Ignoring everyone and their stupid bet, I pop the fridge door open and grab a water. Reid joins me, sticking his head in the fridge so I’m forced to look at him. “Aren’t you going to ask?”
“Ask what?” I grit out.
“If she’s here. I know that’s why you were hanging out in your car, debating if you should come in or not.”
My skin prickles, and I brace myself for the answer as I shut the fridge door. “Is she here?” I hiss.
Slowly, Reid smiles and nods. “Yup, she’s in the bathroom.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I angrily squeeze my water bottle, nearly popping the top off. “Why? Why is she here?”
Reid shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe because she wants to be here.”
“Who invited her? Was it Mom?” I don’t wait for an answer. Instead, I walk over to the culprit, who’s hovering over the stove, stirring a huge pot of chili.
“Oh, hey, sweetie. Cornbread is in the oven, honey is in the crock, and I also got tortilla chips because I know how much you like crumbling them in your chili.”
“Mom, why did you invite her? I told you to leave her alone, to leave us alone.”
“What are you talking about?” My mom looks me up and down and then goes back to the chili.
“Harper. I asked you not to invite Harper.”
The bathroom door opens, and Jen pops
out, rubbing her hands together. “Did he come in yet?” Her eyes light up as she spots me. “What time was it?”
“Eight minutes. Reid won.”
Disappointed, she snaps her fingers. “Damn, I for sure thought I was going to win.”
Confused, I turn back to my mom. “Harper isn’t here?”
“No, of course not. I wouldn’t invite her so early. She needs time to settle. What made you think she was here?”
I whip around to find Reid leaning against the kitchen wall, arms crossed and with a giant grin on his face. I point at him. “You better run, because I’m going to fucking kill you.”
Like a bolt of lightning, he takes off, and I chase after him, nothing but pure murder on my mind.
The table has been cleared, the kitchen has been cleaned, and now we sit around the table, slowly picking at a plate of cookies and fudge from the shop. Ren sits on Griffin’s lap, his arms wrapped around her waist while Brig sits on Reid’s lap, replicating the same position. Fucking morons.
Reid is also nursing a good punch to the ribs after I caught him tripping up the stairs. I made sure he remembered exactly who he was fucking with. He might have learned his instigating ways from me, but he will never be able to top the master. He just needed a . . . gentle reminder.
“So I got an interesting email from the mayor today,” Griffin says.
Everyone is sitting around the table, including Jen and her husband, Zach. Their kids are in the basement watching a movie, giving the grown-ups some alone time. Dad is at the head of the table, hands folded over his stomach, dozing in and out, occasionally letting out a low snort only to wake up and add his two cents to the conversation. I don’t know how he does it, sleeping in a chair and able to contribute to the conversation as well.
“Oh, what did he say?” Mom asks as she steeps her tea.
“I haven’t told anyone besides Ren because I’m not allowed to say anything, but it’s some really exciting stuff.”
Reid waves his hand impatiently. “No way can you sit there and say you have exciting news and not say anything about it.”
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