Kiss Now, Lie Later

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Kiss Now, Lie Later Page 3

by C. W. Farnsworth


  Fiery embarrassment burns through me. Of course he doesn’t remember me. Of course the indifference in the kitchen wasn’t an act. A wave of humiliation engulfs me as I recall all the wasted minutes I’ve spent reliving our encounter in the woods over the past two years. He’s done the opposite.

  I turn to head back inside, absolutely disgusted with myself. Suddenly, listening to Maggie gossip with her new friends doesn’t sound bad at all.

  I’m stopped by the feel of a hand on my arm that manages to sear through the denim of the jean jacket I’m wearing over Maggie’s dress.

  “I’m fucking with you, Maeve.”

  I meet Weston’s eyes for the first time. The startling shade of blue seems especially vivid in contrast with the shadowed yard and stormy sky.

  “I don’t share secrets very often. Ever—as a matter of fact.” His words hang between us. “It’s not something I’m likely to forget.”

  I swallow. I’m simultaneously rejoicing he remembers who I am and pissed he purposefully acted like he didn’t.

  “Did you ever meet him?” Weston asks. I arch an eyebrow, confused. “The guy who doesn’t care?”

  I’m shocked he remembers my exact words from the woods. Even more surprised he’s asking about them. And I start to wish he actually did forget our last encounter. Admitting to him most people don’t pay attention to anything about me aside from my last name was one of my more vulnerable and less flattering moments.

  I shake my head wordlessly.

  “That's good to know,” Weston replies. And then he leans down and kisses me. Every muscle in my body freezes. I stop breathing. Even the flow of blood through my veins seems to slow to a trickle. I’m being kissed. A boy is kissing me. And not just any boy. Weston fucking Cole.

  His kiss is sweet, almost hesitant. Not at all what I expect. Or rather, what I would have expected if I’d had any premonition this moment might happen. Which I didn’t. I’m too shell-shocked to do anything but imitate a statue and savor the tingles.

  Until his hot tongue traces the seam of my lips and he tugs me closer.

  I gasp, allowing him access to my mouth, and he doesn’t hesitate to take full advantage. Every sensation intensifies. I’m drowning in the best way, overcome by heat and exhilaration and lust. I let my hands wander into his soft hair, and he groans. His mouth becomes even more insistent, and I finally let my tongue tangle with his.

  Weston Cole conquers me. And I let him.

  I try to remember why this shouldn’t happen. That’s he’s part of the enemy. That he leads the enemy. But his lips are demanding and persuasive and warm against mine, and I can’t muster the willpower to string a coherent thought together, much less leave them.

  He’s the one who breaks our kiss, and we stand there, both taking greedy gulps of the damp night air.

  I’m dazed. Delirious. Drunk. Dizzy. Disappointed. That wasn’t my first kiss, but it’s the first time I’ve cared one’s ended.

  Weston half smiles when he looks at my face, and I wonder what he sees there. He procures a red cylinder and holds it out to me. I grasp it automatically.

  “See you around, Maeve Stevens.” This time he not only says my last name, he also emphasizes it slightly. It’s a reminder; I’m not sure whether it’s one meant for me or him. I survey his expression, but there’s no hint of the cockiness or derision he displayed in the kitchen. Is this his way of telling me he doesn’t care about my last name?

  Weston turns and heads back across the grass towards the patio, leaving me staring down at the can of cola in my hand.

  I eventually wander back inside the house. Maggie’s still standing in the same spot by the fireplace.

  “Hey, I was just about to come look for you! What took so long?” she asks when I reach the group of cheerleaders.

  I can’t tell her the truth. That Weston Cole kissed me like his life depended on it and then I stood in the backyard for ten minutes in a daze because I’m pretty sure kissing him is what the aftermath of several shots of liquor must feel like.

  “There was a long line for the bathroom. And then I grabbed this,” I hold up the can of cola.

  Maggie nods, accepting my answer without hesitation. “We can leave soon,” she promises me. “I just want to hear the rest of Skyler’s story about her college visits.”

  “Okay,” I respond, opening the can of soda and taking a long sip. I don’t bother listening to the narrative being told, barely cognizant of the “ooohs” and “aaahs” from Maggie and the other girls.

  I have more pressing problems than where an Alleghany cheerleader is planning to continue her education.

  Weston Cole kissed me. And I want him to do it again.

  chapter three

  Weston

  Beads of sweat roll down my forehead as I force my shaking arms upward again. “Did you hear Maeve Stevens was at Josh’s house last night?” Chris asks as he’s spotting me. My fingers tighten around the hard metal as I straighten my elbows.

  “Nope.” It's not a total lie. I didn't think anyone else would realize who she was.

  “Caroline recognized her from soccer. I wonder if she reported back on how much better our parties are than Glenmont’s. I can’t believe she actually came to Alleghany.”

  “Why the fuck did she?” Charlie asks from the next bench, setting his own weighted bar down with a loud clang.

  “Josh said there’s a new girl who moved here from Glenmont a couple weeks ago who she was with. Still can’t believe the Glenmont golden girl deigned to be seen with us. She had to know we’d all be there,” Chris replies.

  “What are you guys talking about?” Adam joins the group that’s huddled around me discussing the one topic I really don’t want to hear about.

  I still can’t believe I fucking kissed her. I’ve made a litany of excuses for what I confessed to her our freshman year. How I couldn’t get the look on my mother’s face when she realized my father hadn’t gone to the office like he told her out of my head, the two beers I’d drunk, the fact that she stayed on that log long after she realized who I was. I don’t have any such excuses for last night. I kissed her because I wanted to. Because when I saw her in Josh’s kitchen, I forgot there were other people in the room. I can’t figure out why she kissed me back.

  “Maeve Stevens.” Chris is the one who replies to Adam’s question.

  “Liam Stevens’ sister? Why?”

  “She was at Josh’s last night. Blonde hair, killer body, I think she was wearing a pink dress?”

  It was green.

  “Holy shit. That was Maeve Stevens? She’s hot.” Grudging appreciation fills Adam’s voice.

  She kissed me back. And I can’t make sense of why. I’ve done nothing over the past two years since we first spoke but continue to shred apart her family’s football legacy, and she kissed me back. I got the sense when she talked about her dad’s drinking they aren’t close, but I know she and Liam are. Maeve came out on the field and hugged him after our game against Glenmont this past fall while I watched like a creeper.

  “Is she dating anyone?” Charlie asks. “Doubt any Glenmont guy would be happy about his girl hanging out at our party.”

  I do four more reps and then set the heavy bar down with a loud rattle, sitting up and wiping my face dry with a towel.

  “Who cares?” Adam scoffs. “But probably. The guys in Glenmont are jerks, but they’re not blind.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” I finally interject, grabbing my stuff and heading towards the door that leads out to the gym’s parking lot. I know they’ll all follow me, but I don’t expect them to still be discussing Maeve Stevens when they do.

  I grit my teeth with annoyance as I open up the trunk of the brand-new Range Rover my parents bought me and toss my gym gear inside.

  “Caroline said she’s good?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know what that means. Hell, I didn’t even know Caroline played soccer until sophomore year.”

  “Jeez, Adam, don’t men
tion that to her. No wonder you’re single.”

  “You guys are still talking about Maeve Stevens?” I ask, making sure my tone conveys I think their fixation is ridiculous. Advice I should take myself.

  “Charlie just told me she plays soccer. Figured Liam took all the athletic genes in the womb.” Adam is the only one who laughs at his lame twin joke.

  “She doesn’t just play, she’s the team captain,” I inform him. Adam, Charlie, and Chris all look at me with surprise. “What?” I ask.

  “How the hell do you know that?” Chris questions.

  “I read it in an article about how Stevens was selected as Glenmont’s,” I reply. I’m not sure why they bothered writing a news article about it; everyone knew it was a forgone conclusion Liam Stevens would be selected as Glenmont’s football captain this year, the same way everyone knew I would be Alleghany’s. The only reason I even read the piece was I was curious if it would mention Maeve. It did, but only in a cursory sentence that insinuated her athletic success was merely an extension of her brother’s. It bothered me more than I expected, not only because I’m far from Liam’s biggest fan. I wonder if I even would have noticed if she hadn’t already flat-out told me people only see her as her father’s daughter or her brother’s sister.

  “You can read?” Charlie jokes. I flip him off.

  “We’re meeting at Baylor’s place, right?” Chris asks, unlocking his own SUV.

  “Yup,” Adam confirms. “Everyone else is already there.”

  “I’ve got a meeting with Coach Blake, I’ll see you guys there,” I say before climbing in my car.

  It’s a short drive to the main building of the high school, where I park outside the entrance closest to the football field. One of the many perks of being chosen as captain is the metal key that allows me to enter the locker room even when it’s technically closed. I unlock the heavy metal door and push inside the empty, quiet locker room. I’ve never been in here without my boisterous teammates before. The normally noisy room feels hallowed and empty without their loud presence. I bypass the gleaming rows of lockers out into the hallway that leads to Coach Blake’s office. Despite its close proximity to the belongings of sweaty teenage boys, it's actually a location of honor. Every other coach’s office is relegated to the separate sports building I just came from.

  His door is closed when I reach it, so I knock before I hear his booming voice call out permission to enter.

  “Hey, Coach,” I greet, dropping into one of the familiar folding chairs across from his cluttered desk. The metal squeaks underneath the weight of my tall frame, but I know better than to suggest he swap out the cheap seats for a nicer option. The rickety chairs are perfect for making football players squirm, which is Coach Blake’s favorite pastime. Every uneasy movement elicits a creak he wears like a badge of honor.

  “Good to see you, Cole,” he replies, giving me a genuine smile. Despite his stoic exterior, I’ve grown to respect him for a lot more than just his uncanny ability to draw the best out of his players. He embodies many of the principles my own father is sorely lacking. Like integrity, for instance. “There are a couple things I want to talk to you about. First off, your training plan for the summer.”

  “Training plan?” I echo.

  “You’ve got heaps of natural talent, Cole, but that’s no reason not to work extra hard. We ended last season with three straight losses. Now, I know everyone is going to be focused on a full sweep against Glenmont, but I’m more concerned with making it to the state final this year. Prepare for that, and facing Glenmont won’t pose a problem. If you work on your conditioning this summer, we’ll be poised to add some new running plays, and your throwing technique could also use some refinement. Thompson and Fields have gotten good at reading you, but you’ll be a stronger quarterback if you can improve your accuracy. Clemens was a good captain last year, but you’re the one the whole team has always looked up to. Use that to your advantage.”

  I nod.

  “Good. Here are some specific drills to start on before preseason.” He hands me a piece of paper. “Now, I also thought we should discuss your future plans. I’ve gotten a lot of calls from colleges about you, and I wanted to check to see if there are any particular schools you’d like me to ensure you get to play for. I’ve got connections all over the country.”

  “My father has always wanted me to go to Lincoln,” I say. “That’s where he went, and they’re one of the top football programs in the country.”

  Coach Blake studies me. I didn't exactly give the university a ringing endorsement from my own perspective, which I doubt he missed. “They’ve expressed interest, as I’m sure you know.”

  “Yeah, I do,” I respond. “I’d like to keep my options open, but there’s no place in particular I’m considering instead.”

  “Let me know if that changes,” Coach Blake replies.

  “I will, Coach,” I assure him.

  “All right then, go enjoy the rest of your summer. I’ll see you for preseason in a few weeks. Just keep in mind what we talked about.”

  “Yes, sir,” I say before heading back out into the hallway. My car’s still the only one in the lot when I emerge back outside, and I climb in and head towards Baylor’s.

  I park in the open spot that’s been left for me in the driveway and head into the backyard, trying to shake off the residual stress my talk with Coach left behind. I know my father will be happy for me to continue playing football in college, but it’s not a priority for him. He just wants me to go to a school that’s competitive enough he can brag to his business partners about it.

  Most of Alleghany High’s senior class seems to be in Baylor’s backyard. The lawn and pool are overflowing with hubbub and hormones. Everyone I pass calls out greetings to me, but I only respond to a few. There are almost three hundred people in the senior class, and I doubt I could name more than fifty of them. I tend to stick to socializing with the football team. Not because I’m a snob, but because anyone I talk to outside my immediate friend group tends to either gab nonstop or lose the ability to speak at all. Chris calls it the ‘Cole Charm.’ I call it annoying.

  I grab a cold can of beer from the cooler set out on the patio, and then head over to the deck, where I can see Chris and Charlie leaning against the railing. They greet me with hand slaps as I settle in the one open chair.

  “How’d it go with Coach Blake?” Chris asks.

  “Fine,” I reply. “He just wanted to go over the plan for the season.”

  “What’s the plan, O Captain?” Charlie wonders.

  “Win,” I tell him before opening the can and taking a sip of beer.

  Chris laughs; Charlie rolls his eyes.

  “Hey, boys,” Emily greets, sauntering over to us in just a bikini. It’s an impressive sight, and neither Charlie nor Chris bother to hide their appreciation for it.

  “Hi, Emily,” I reply.

  “Never saw you at Josh’s last night,” she tells me.

  “I was around,” I respond vaguely. “Sure you weren’t just too busy micro-managing the cheer team?”

  Emily laughs. “You know I like to keep people in line.”

  “Oh, I know,” I assure her. Emily’s known for a lot more than her looks at Alleghany High. It’s no accident the cheerleaders comprise the most organized, disciplined team in the school. And I’m well aware it’s due to a lot more than the sugary sweet side she shows me. Madeline was the only one brave enough to venture up on the deck with Emily, the rest have remained in a huddled mass by the pool. I scan the remaining group of cheerleaders, and am surprised to spot a girl with dark brown hair I’ve never seen before.

  “Did you invite underclassmen?” I ask Emily in surprise.

  She follows my gaze, and her pretty features twist in displeasure. “No, that’s Maggie Burchard. She’s a senior like us, but she just moved here. From Glenmont.” Maeve’s friend, I realize, and Chris comes to the same conclusion.

  “She’s the one who’s friends with Maev
e Stevens?” he asks Emily.

  “Maeve Stevens? As in Liam Stevens’ sister?” Emily questions.

  “Yeah, she was at Josh’s last night,” Charlie informs her. “Right, Caroline?”

  Caroline ambles over from the patio, with Josh right behind her. “You guys always make me regret telling you anything. I don’t know why people associate girls with gossiping.”

  “You’re sure it was her?” Chris wonders, ignoring her dig.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Caroline assures him. “Not sure why you boys care so much, though.”

  “Are you kidding?” Charlie asks. “She’s a Stallion and a Stevens.”

  “So? She doesn’t play football. If anyone should be holding a grudge, it’s me. She made a mockery of us last year.”

  “You guys lost to Glenmont?” I can’t help but ask.

  Caroline looks at me with surprise. I’m not sure if it’s because of my question, or that I’m the one who asked it. “Yeah, we did.”

  “I didn’t hear about that,” I reply.

  Caroline laughs. “Well, if you didn’t know, soccer is during the same season as football. We aren’t exactly the headline news.”

  “Losing to Glenmont usually is,” I reply.

  She shrugs. “The boys team didn’t. We rank even lower on the interest scale.”

  “I thought our boys soccer team is terrible?” Chris asks.

  “They are,” Caroline responds. “We’ve beaten them in scrimmages before. But they didn’t have to play against Maeve Stevens.”

  “She’s really that good?” Charlie asks. Surprise colors his voice.

  “We’re seriously going through this again?” I ask irritably before Caroline can answer. “I already told you she’s their captain this year.”

  “He’s really hung up on that,” Charlie explains to Caroline, Emily, and Josh.

  “It must be a captain thing,” Adam contributes, strolling over to join our conversation. “Like if you insult one of them you insult all of them, or something.”

  I roll my eyes at them both. “That has nothing to do with it. But since you brought it up, the captain is typically the best player on the team. Which explains why neither of you two were selected.”

 

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