by Emily Lowry
Abby reached out her hand to me like she was deeming me worthy of an olive branch. Her hand was small, her nails chewed and without polish. I took her hand in mine and smiled at her, glad I was forgiven. And so we were holding hands, in public, at Evermore.
If people were giving us subtle glances before, now they dropped all pretense of subtlety. Some openly gawked.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I whispered. “People will talk. And it’s not always pretty. Sometimes they’re mean.”
“Yes, Mr. Quarterback, I have been on the internet before,” Abby said. “I once had the mayor’s aide show up at my front door and imply that my time at Evermore would be so much nicer if I would just issue a correction on a piece I’d published online.”
“And?”
“I told him that his teeth would be so much nicer if he was smart enough to back off.”
I almost choked. “You said that?”
Abby paused, grinned. “I wish. I just let him rant for a bit, then closed the door. I left the article up, but the website took it down. A week later they had an exclusive interview with the mayor.”
“That’s B.S.”
“That’s journalism,” Abby said. She spun so she was facing me, her eyes looking into mine. I immediately missed the warmth of her next to my side. “The point, Chase Jones, is that I don’t scare that easy.”
Impressive. Who was this girl? Nicholas must’ve been crazy to not notice her.
“Now. Chase. I need you to think. Even if it’s painful.” Abby smirked. “There’s a chance someone else scared Savannah off. Do you know anyone who might want to mess with you?”
There was only one name that came to mind: my ex-girlfriend.
Madison Albright.
15
Abby
The field glowed under the glare of the Friday night lights. In the bleachers, the crowd stomped their feet, clapped their hands, and rang an alarming number of cowbells. My ears already hurt — people enjoyed this? The cheerleaders, dressed in their tiny black outfits emblazoned with silver panthers, waved their pom-poms and danced to the school fight song. Hailey Danielson was at the front of the pack, her caramel ponytail swishing as she moved. She gestured to the rest of her squad, who obediently formed two rows in the corner of the end zone and unfurled a banner.
Chase Jones burst through the banner, tearing it in half. He held his helmet in one hand, the silver striping on his jersey catching the light — number 7, just like his hero, John Elway.
The entire crowd erupted into even louder cheers, and I couldn’t help but join in.
It was crazy to think there were already rumors I was dating him. Click hadn’t confirmed our relationship, so I was fairly sure the three-week countdown hadn’t started. Yet.
Izzy clutched my arm. “I cannot believe you’re dating him.”
I felt horrible for lying to Izzy about Chase and I, but she had been so overcome with shock when I told her I was hanging out with Chase Jones romantically, that it had been easy to fib for the rest of the conversation. She was too startled to ask tough questions.
Chase looked like an all-star. He played like one too. The game was — as the journalists I’d studied would say — a good, old-fashioned barn burner. Chase carved through the defense like it was a Thanksgiving turkey. But for every successful touchdown pass he threw, the Eastmount Knights answered with a touchdown of their own. It came down to the last play of the game. Evermore was down by four with the ball on the six-yard line.
Chase examined the defense. He stood back. Pointed to one of the defenders. Shouted something to his team. Their formation changed. He was changing the play. Huge murmuring swept the crowded bleachers. I even saw one dad in the front row take off his hat and clutch it to his chest. I momentarily surveyed the dark-haired man: Chase’s dad, perhaps?
Chase snapped the ball. Ran to the right. Two of our receivers ran for the end zone, both covered by a pair of defenders. Chase faked the pass, then tucked the ball under his arm and ran for the goal line.
But he would not make it. Two Knight defenders peeled off their receivers and came to meet him. I winced, waiting for him to be tackled to the ground, but at the last second, Chase dove through the air.
All three guys collided with the violence of a car crash, Chase’s body spinning. Yet, as he spun, he reached out his arm that held the football. It crossed the goal line as Chase flopped to the ground. He raised a triumphant fist in the air.
Touchdown!
The crowd roared so loudly it felt like the bleachers were about to drop beneath me.
“Good game.” I was in the school parking lot, leaning against Chase’s Jeep. Izzy had driven me to the game, so Chase could drive me home. It was part of tonight’s plan to check a very important mark off my list: Football Party.
Chase smiled. He was freshly showered and dressed in dark jeans and a black t-shirt that somehow made the navy blue of his eyes look even more intense than usual. His hair was the kind of messy that made me want to run my hands through it—
Wait, what? Shut up. Chase was my fake boyfriend. The only hair I wanted to touch belonged to Nicholas.
Didn’t it?
I tried to put myself back in business mode, difficult in my party outfit. I was wearing a tight top and the trusty single-pair-of-skinny-jeans-I-owned. I’d borrowed (stolen) the top from Katie, so it was a size too small. Sadly, the tight fit emphasized my chest in a more “lack thereof” than “look at me” way.
I persisted with business Abby nonetheless, narrowing my eyes. “Only took you forty-five minutes to shower and make yourself pretty, Jones, is that a new record? Don’t worry, it’s not like it’s freezing out here or anything.”
Chase burst out laughing. “You know you could have waited inside.”
I sighed; he was right. And it wasn’t freezing, it was positively balmy for October. Chase carried his letterman football jacket balled beneath his arm.
“Turn around. Close your eyes,” he said.
I didn’t want to stop looking at him.
“Come on, Abs. If you can’t trust your fake boyfriend, who can you trust?”
I rolled my eyes and turned away. I felt something warm and heavy wrap around my shoulders. Something that smelled like Chase. His football jacket. So that was how it felt to have a cute boy give you his jacket.
“Thank you.”
He opened the passenger door of his Jeep for me. “You gotta look the part. Plus, now you can’t complain you’re cold anymore.”
The victory party was at Hailey Danielson’s house. Or should I say, it was at Hailey Danielson’s mansion. Hailey was famous at Evermore High for three things:
Adam Zamos, her long-time boyfriend.
Making captain of the cheer squad her junior year.
And having a rich stepdad. Apparently, he was an enormous deal at one of Denver’s premier sports agencies. He represented several members of the Broncos and Avalanche.
The mansion had an iron gate — with a silver panther on it, which I assumed would be replaced when Hailey graduated from Evermore — and privacy hedges that were at least ten feet tall. Chase pressed the button on the intercom, told them who he was, and the gate opened smoothly.
“What world am I living in?” I rolled my eyes.
Chase grinned. “The best one. But I’m telling you — you wear that jacket, people will ask some questions.” His grin faded. “And Madison’s probably here. Maybe it’s a bad idea.”
I pulled the jacket around me protectively. “Like I said — I don’t scare easy.”
“We better get our story straight. What are we doing here together?”
“Boyfriend and girlfriend.”
Chase waved the thought away. “Can’t come out and say it. Nobody goes straight from a date or two to that label. We haven’t even been blasted on Click yet.”
Ah, Click. The judge, jury, and executioner of every relationship at Evermore.
“The last person who was officially
my girlfriend was Madison. If this was a normal relationship, we’d be trying to hide it a bit, right?” Chase looked at me for my opinion. I nodded, trying to appear like I knew how relationships worked.
“Cool. If anyone asks, say we’re hanging out. Let them put it all together,” Chase instructed.
I nodded again.
It sounded smart, but it still stung. Just hanging out. It felt so casual. Cheap.
Easy, Abby. It’s a fake relationship. And you’re only here for your checklist — not to be Chase’s date. This is his world, not yours. Focus on getting the material you need.
The doors to Hailey’s house swung open.
It was like walking onto a movie set. The entire Evermore elite seemed to be there already. Were we fashionably late?
I recognized a lot of the girls. The cheerleading squad, the beauty queens and yearbook staff, the entire student council roster (why did no guys ever seem to run for student council?), and girls from the soccer and dance teams. Everyone looked painfully glamorous.
The guys were almost all football players, most of them dressed down in Panthers hoodies and t-shirts, their hair still wet from their post-game showers. I wondered why athletes seemed to get so much school branded gear bought for them. Nobody had ever presented me with as much as a single sock for working on the Pinnacle. We didn’t even have Evermore-brand stationary.
The party was taking place in Hailey’s basement — which had a full wet bar, two pool tables, a piano, and allegedly, a twenty-seat home theater. As we stepped into the room, eyes were on us immediately. It was like we were world famous and had stepped onto the red carpet. I half-expected the flash of a thousand paparazzi cameras.
I could feel the panic rising in me and I instinctively clutched Chase’s arm.
“Easy, Abs,” he murmured. “They’ll get over it. I’ll go grab us some drinks. You just do your journalist thing, gather your material or whatever.”
He seemed distant now that we were immersed in his world.
Before I could protest — I was definitely not planning on drinking — Chase was gone, and I was hovering near the entrance alone. I watched him stride across the room, fist bumping and high-fiving the guys. I narrowed my eyes as girls lined up to hug him and congratulate him on the team’s win.
That was okay, I told myself. I couldn’t expect to hang on his arm all night. And at least he had given me an actual reason to be at this party, unlike that last disaster Izzy and I had stumbled through.
The social feature was supposed to be about experiencing high school life at its fullest, not leering at people from behind the star quarterback.
Just have fun.
I grabbed a stool near the pool tables and tried to look casual, tapping my foot to the music. I felt like an imposter.
Payton, the sportswriter for the Pinnacle, sat next to me. She was the only Pinnacle staff member who was classically “popular.” Being the football coach’s daughter gave her an automatic pass in a place like Evermore. She only ever covered sports.
“So, you and Chase, huh?” she said perkily. “Who would have thought it? The all-star quarterback with a lowly journalist. Good for you!”
“It’s nothing,” I replied.
“You’re wearing his jacket.”
“I was cold.”
“Suuuuuuure.” Payton stared at Chase the way a cat stared at a mouse. She did everything but lick her lips. “I heard he’s a great kisser. Is it true?”
I’d never felt so uncomfortable in my life.
I wouldn’t know, I’ve never kissed him. And even if I had kissed him, it’s not like I had a point of reference.
My face flared red as I searched for an answer that was anything but the mortifying truth, which I obviously couldn’t say out loud.
Just when I didn’t think my discomfort could grow, Madison Albright, Chase’s ex-girlfriend, took a seat on the stool next to me.
Great. I was surrounded. Chase was pouring drinks at the bar, chatting to Dylan Ramirez and a couple of other guys from the team.
Madison had never even looked at me in her life before tonight, but here we were. “Abby, Payton!” she squealed like we were long lost best friends. Madison wore her self-assurance like a weapon, brimming confidence and poise. Even when you knew all the rumors, being near that much charisma was intoxicating. No wonder Chase had fallen for her.
In fact, the only boy who had ever rejected her advances was Trey Carter, Evermore’s resident bad boy. Girls would line up around city blocks for a chance to date Trey — if they weren’t scared of him. According to Click, after her breakup with Chase, Madison went after Trey. He laughed in her face. It was probably the only time a boy had ever humbled Madison. I didn’t know if it was true or not, but it made me happy to think about.
“Chase’s jacket looks great on you,” Madison said, way too enthusiastically. “It fits perfectly. It was always too big on me. But on you it just looks so cozy. Like you were born to wear it.”
“Thanks?” I wasn’t stupid. I knew she was insulting me. And I knew her statement wasn’t true — the jacket was huge on me. Unfortunately, I did not have a clever comeback. All I could do was scan the room for Chase, hoping he would be back soon. Now he was at the bar with two drinks in his hand, talking to one of the younger players. It looked like Chase was trying to cheer the other guy up.
There he goes, being a good person just when I need him, I thought bitterly.
“Have you kissed yet?” Madison asked. I looked up at her, completely trapped. Madison was one of those girls who lived to make people uncomfortable. I now knew how a fly felt when it was caught in a spider web.
Payton hid her smirk.
“It’s okay,” Madison said. “I won’t tell. He’s an amazing kisser, right?”
I had to say something. Anything. “Sure?”
Madison’s perfectly groomed eyebrows shot up. “Oh, so you have kissed him.”
Every question was a landmine, and I’d already lost both my legs. This was how it felt to be on the other end of one of my interrogation attempts. I tried to tell myself this was good practice for journalistic empathy. “I didn’t say that.”
“So, have you?” Madison fluttered her eyelashes like she was straight out of a Disney movie.
“Have you?” I shot back. Oof, wrong question Abby, you dummy.
Madison grinned evilly. “I think you know the answer to that.”
She put her arm around me and pulled me so I almost fell off my stool. She put her lips near my ear. Her perfume was overpowering. I felt nauseous. “I’ve seen you, running around after him like a lost puppy. You might think it’s cute, but it’s pathetic. Everyone thinks it is. And if you’re hoping that you can be his little drunken mistake tonight, I have some bad news for you. Chase Jones doesn’t make mistakes, and he doesn’t drink. So you’re probably out of the running. Enjoy his jacket though.”
And with that, Madison was off to sink her claws into someone else.
Payton looked as shocked as I felt.
“What a b—”
“How’re my two favorite hard-hitting journalists?” Chase returned — finally — cutting Payton off. Which was a shame, because I was about to fully agree with her sentiment.
Payton laughed and took one of the red cups Chase was holding. I was pretty sure it was for me, but Payton either didn’t notice or didn’t care, and Chase didn’t protest. She bantered with Chase for a moment while I simmered, drinkless.
As far as I was concerned, Madison Albright was behind everything wrong with the world.
“Abs. Anyone home?” Chase placed his drink in my hand and jokingly waved in front of my face. “You look like you’re about to boil over. Take a sip. Relax.”
Payton had left, pulled away by Hailey.
I looked down at the fizzy brown drink in the cup.
“It’s fine. I don’t really drink.”
“It’s Pepsi,” Chase said. “And you look like you could use something that’ll cool you d
own.”
Oh. Pepsi.
“Sorry, it’s… just a rule my dad has. If you’re at a party, don’t take a drink that’s not sealed, or you didn’t make yourself.”
Chase took the drink back. “My bad, I didn’t even think of — I’ll grab you a can. What do you want?”
“Ginger ale?”
He smiled. “Back in a flash.”
And he was, this time — with a can of Ginger Ale. It hissed as I opened it, and I drank a mouthful.
Just then, a bundle of energy came running up to us. “What’s up, party people?”
She elbowed Chase in the ribs. “Hey all-star, introduce me!”
The girl’s navy eyes sparkled. Jordyn Jones, Chase’s twin sister. She was a shorter, fairer version of Chase — the resemblance was uncanny.
“I guess they let anyone into these parties now, huh?” Chase teased. “This is Jordyn. My younger twin sister.”
“Younger?”
“By seven minutes,” Chase said. “And this is my friend, Abby. She’s a bit weird.”
“The best ones usually are,” Jordyn said. She stuck out her hand. “I just wanted to thank you.”
“Thank me?” Color me confused.
“Normally this one’s a bit of a grump,” Jordyn said. “But he’s been in a good mood lately. Between you and me, I think you’re the reason why.”
My eyes bugged at her comment.
Chase grabbed his sister and redirected her. “Hailey’s calling you.”
“I’m going, I’m going.” Jordyn flashed a peace sign. “Later. Don’t do anything I would do.”
After she was gone, I glanced at Chase. “Friend?”
“I don’t lie to Jordyn,” he said flatly. “Non-negotiable. But I can’t tell her the whole truth. So, I’m just going to let her think what she wants and not correct her.”
Fair enough.
“Did you tell anyone about us?” I asked, choosing my words cautiously.
“No. You?”
“No.” I hadn’t even told Izzy the truth.
Wanting to change the subject, I eyed the cup of Pepsi he was now sipping. “You don’t drink?”