But I don’t know what to do about it. Don’t know how Maeve feels about it now. She’s more invested in it. She’s grown up with it. Her family’s invested in it.
I’m also worried. Worried she won’t pick me, if she has to choose a side.
So I keep putting off bringing the subject up. I figure it will be an easier conversation to have once the football season has ended.
The same waitress comes back over a few minutes later to take our lunch orders. My mother orders a turkey sandwich, and I end up selecting the burger my father suggested to me. He smiles at me when I do.
But my father doesn’t order it.
My father orders a salad with grilled chicken instead of the burger he was praising, and for the first time since I discovered he was unfaithful to my mom, I wonder if he still loves her, too.
chapter sixteen
Maeve
“Happy Birthday, Maeve!” My mother calls the greeting out as I appear downstairs, making her way over from the kitchen table to kiss me on the side of my head.
“Thanks, Mom,” I respond, heading over to the fridge and pouring some orange juice.
“Any big plans for the day?” she asks as I help myself to a bowl of cereal and take a seat at the kitchen island.
“Not really. I have practice after school, and then I was thinking of sleeping over at Sarah’s tonight.” I wait, but my mother doesn’t bat an eyelash. I’m grateful the real estate market has been booming lately. She hasn’t been to her book club in months, which is the only way I’ve been getting away with the number of times I’ve supposedly been at one of my friend’s houses lately.
“Sounds good, honey,” is all she says. “We’ll celebrate as a family on Saturday, all right?”
“Yup, that sounds good,” I reply, shoveling cereal in my mouth. I glance at the clock. I’m running late. Rapidly finishing my breakfast, I put my dishes in the dishwasher. “I’ve got to get to school. Did Liam already leave?”
“Yes, he and your father headed in early for some film review, I believe. I’ll be glad when this game against Alleghany is over. Those two are running themselves ragged.”
“Yeah, I will be too,” I reply. More than she knows. “I’ll see you later, Mom.”
“Bye, sweetie,” she responds.
I’m late enough I have to park in the farthest lot from the school’s main entrance. I’m glad I put on my down winter jacket on the way out the door. It feels especially chilly this morning. Any trace of summer is long gone, but the brisk gusts of wind making the dead leaves that litter the parking lot dance indicate winter is just around the corner. I burst through the blasé front doors of Glenmont High just as the morning announcements are starting. I rush past the few students lingering in the hallway and hurry into my first period Chemistry class. I give my teacher an apologetic smile as I take my seat. As soon as I settle in it, I’m reminded Glenmont High includes birthdays in the morning announcements when every head swivels in my direction. Just like every other year since kindergarten, Liam and I’s names are the only two announced.
Once the loudspeaker shuts off, Sam starts an off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday” that the entire class joins in on. It’s both sweet and supremely embarrassing.
I’m flooded with well wishes from classmates all morning. On my way to third period I see Liam for the first time. He gives me a hug. “Happy birthday, little sis,” he tells me.
“Happy birthday, big bro by two minutes,” I respond. Liam grins at me before continuing down the locker-lined hallway.
When I enter the cafeteria, Brooke and Sarah both leap up and give me hugs. Sarah pushes a small pink box towards me. “Happy Birthday, Maeve!” I open it to find a chocolate peanut butter cupcake from my favorite bakery in Glenmont.
“Awww, thank you guys,” I tell them. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“Of course we did,” Brooke replies. “You only turn eighteen once, Maeve. Speaking of, when are we celebrating? You only have practice until six tonight, right?”
I’m saved from having to answer when I’m suddenly lifted up and spun around. I turn to see Matt’s smiling face. “Happy Birthday!” he tells me.
I smile. “Thanks, Matt.”
“A twirl, Crawford?” Sam asks as he takes a seat at our usual table. “You better up your game. I managed a thirty person serenade, and I’m not even the one with a thing for Maeve.”
The words are teasing, so I expect Matt to laugh or make a joke. Instead, he glares at Sam. An awkward silence descends upon the table, and I scramble to fill it. “I can’t do today, Brooke. But let’s celebrate this weekend, okay?”
She’s quick to follow my lead. “Perfect. I’ll start planning!” This worries me slightly. Birthday celebrations Brooke has planned in previous years have included prank calls and a visit from the Glenmont Fire Department. But I’m more preoccupied by what Sam just said, and how Matt reacted. Sam’s always been a jokester, but something tells me he was stating the truth about Matt’s feelings.
I add Matt’s possible interest in me to the ever-growing list of things that could easily implode on me at any moment. The rest of lunch is uneventful, and the twenty-five minutes that normally feel short seem to drag. Mostly because I keep checking my phone.
Sarah catches me obsessively tapping the screen. “You expecting a message, Maeve?” she asks teasingly.
“Ha, no,” I lie. “Just eager for school to be over.”
“Amen to that,” Brooke chimes in with. “I’ve got a quiz next period.”
I make a sound of sympathy as I check my phone again. Still nothing from Wes. The disappointment is silly. We’re not friends on social media. He doesn’t go to Glenmont, so he didn’t hear the announcement. I mentioned the date to him once. Months ago. And we’re already supposed to meet later tonight, so it’s not like I won’t see him. But stupidly, selfishly, I want him to remember.
When lunch ends, Matt lingers. We have English together next, but I usually walk with Brooke and Sarah, and he typically leaves with the football guys. “You coming, Maeve?” he asks. I watch Brooke and Sarah exchange a look.
“Yeah, sure,” I say casually. I need to figure out a way to make my feelings clear to Matt, and I’m not sure how to do it. It’s not like I can blurt out I’m dating Weston Cole. Despite my father and brother’s indifference, no guy from Glenmont has ever shown a serious interest in me, and the fact that it’s Matt makes it all that much worse. He’s one of Liam’s closest friends, and my parents practically consider him a second son. I don’t want things to get awkward between us, and I don't know how to keep them from becoming so.
Matt chats easily as we walk down the hallway about how awful the essay we got assigned last class is, but I’m barely listening. I’m weighing whether I should say anything to him. Before I can decide, Erin Waters approaches us.
“Maeve! I’ve been looking for you all day. Big news! The school committee approved all the prom plans.”
“That’s great, Erin,” I respond. “Thanks for all the work you did on that. I know I haven’t been pulling my weight on student council lately.”
My vice president makes a “pffttt” sound. “Please, I know how hectic things are for you. I was happy to do it, and you came up with some great ideas. Just wanted to let you know. Happy birthday, by the way!”
“Thanks,” I call out as she bounces down the hallway.
“I always forget you’re our class president,” Matt remarks as we continue along.
“I try to as well,” I say. I ran for the position freshman year, mostly because no one else wanted to, and one of my teachers suggested I should. I’ve always been a people pleaser. Not so shockingly, no one ran sophomore year either, and here I still am senior year. It’s a fun group of people, but a thankless job.
Matt asks me some questions about what our meetings are like, and that carries our conversation until we reach English class. I’m torn, half grateful the topic of Sam’s comment didn’t come up, half mad at
myself for chickening out and not setting him straight.
Practice feels like it lasts longer than usual, but the clock in the gym reads six exactly when we all finish the last set of sprints.
“Nice work, ladies!” Coach Bloom calls. “That’s the hustle I want to see on Friday. And in the finals, since I have full confidence we’ll be playing in that game, as well. Rest up, I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Everyone begins to filter towards the locker rooms, including me, but I stop when Coach Bloom shouts my name.
I turn around and head back over to her.
“Yes, Coach?” I ask.
“Just wanted to check in with you, Stevens. I know how much you’ve got going on. Everything okay?”
“Yes, I’m good,” I reply.
“Okay. You still up for running morning practices the week of the championship?”
“Yes, I am,” I confirm.
“All right, we can discuss details that week. We should also have another conversation about colleges now that you’ve started applying. I expect there will be a lot of scouts at the championship game, and if you keep playing the way you have been, you’ll have no shortage of options.”
I nod. “Okay. Thanks, Coach.”
“Of course, Stevens. Happy birthday.”
I smile. “Thank you.”
I head into the locker room and gather my things to take a shower, which I don’t normally do. I only live ten minutes from the high school, and it’s usually easier just to shower at home.
Becca raises her eyebrows at me as I head back into the main locker room with dripping hair. Everyone else has already left.
“Big birthday plans, Stevens?” she asks.
“Nope,” I lie, keeping my tone light. “Just going out to dinner with the family. Wasn’t sure if I’d have time to shower when I get home.”
“All right,” Becca buys my explanation readily enough, and I feel a twinge of guilt. How many times have I lied to my friends and family today? Dozens? Over the past few months? Hundreds? It’s an unsettling realization. “Happy Birthday, Maeve.”
“Thanks, Becca,” I respond. “See you tomorrow.”
She nods, and leaves me alone in the empty locker room. I dry off, and pull on the outfit I carefully selected for tonight before putting on my down jacket and shielding most of it. At least I’ll know I look good.
I grab all my soccer gear, and head out into the parking lot. Only a few cars remain, barely visible under the sporadically spaced lights of the parking lot. One is flickering, and I hurry along, eager to reach my car. Wes was right. I do freak myself out listening to those true crime podcasts. I reach the safety of my car, and toss my bag in the backseat before turning the key in the ignition. The engine roars to life and I blast the heat in an attempt to dry my damp hair. I pull out of the parking lot, embarking on the now familiar route to Wes’s uncle’s cabin.
The black SUV is already waiting when arrive at the cabin, and I eagerly jump out of my car as soon as I park. I round the back bumper, and then freeze. Wes is leaning against the trunk of his car, holding a bouquet of flowers.
“Happy birthday, Stevens.” He flashes me the dimpled smile that gets me. Every. Single. Time. I swallow the lump in my throat and force my feet to keep walking forward.
“You remembered,” I whisper as I reach him. He hands me the colorful bunch of blossoms and gives me a quick kiss.
“Of course I did,” Wes replies. “Now come on, the pizza is getting cold.” He heads towards the driver’s seat of his car, and I climb in on the passenger side. Sure enough, his car is filled with the delicious aroma of hot pizza. “I was thinking we could go to the park,” he tells me. “But it’s colder than I was hoping.”
“I’m willing to risk frostbite,” I tell him.
Wes chuckles. “All right, then.”
We haven’t been back to the park where we met over the summer in a while, and I’m surprised by how nostalgic I feel as Wes parks in the lot and we climb out. This was where I first fell in love with him, even if I didn’t realize it at the time. Wes grabs a thick blanket, paper plates, a stack of napkins, two cans of cola, and a pizza box from the backseat, and I trail after him, impressed.
“Were you a Boy Scout, or something?” I ask as he spreads the blanket and sets everything else down on top of it.
Wes grins. “No, I just copied what you brought for my birthday. Blanket and food.”
I laugh at that as I settle down on the soft fleece. “So? How was Lincoln?” I ask as I grab a slice of the steaming pizza. I blow on it for a minute before taking a bite. The gooey cheese contrasts the crisp crust perfectly. I haven’t seen Wes since he returned from his college trip, and all he sent me was Good when I texted him asking how it went.
“It was good,” he replies.
I roll my eyes. “So you said in your text. That doesn’t really tell me anything, Wes.”
“I know,” he admits, as he sits down and helps himself to his own slice of pizza. “The truth is, I don’t know how to feel about it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I liked it. I liked it a lot.”
“Isn’t that a good thing? A great thing?” I respond.
“I guess. You should’ve seen my father. He was thrilled. Showing us all around, bringing me to all these places. He was . . . ”
“Acting like a dad,” I supply. It means something different to us, and I know he’ll understand my meaning.
“Yeah. Exactly,” Wes replies. “I didn’t want to go there just because he wanted me to. Now . . . I don’t know if I really want to go there, or if it’s because he wants me to. If the same reason I didn’t want to go is the reason I might want to now. Does that make any sense?”
“It makes perfect sense,” I assure him.
“It’s in Michigan,” Wes adds. The words are innocuous enough, but his tone indicates he considers the location to be a downside.
“Do you have some sort of issue with wolverines I don’t know about?” I joke.
Wes snorts. “It doesn’t have anything to do with the state’s nickname.” He pauses. “It’s not close to any of the schools you’re considering.”
I stare at him, stunned. Finally, I regain my voice. “I, uh, I actually applied to Lincoln,” I admit to him.
“You did?” Wes is the one who looks shocked now.
“Yeah, I did.”
“Are they recruiting you?”
“I’d have to try to walk on there. Coach Bloom said she thought I’d have a shot, so I applied.”
“Wow. I didn’t realize you were—I mean, you didn’t mention Lincoln. Before.”
I shrug. “Things change.” It’s as close as I’m willing to get to admitting he’s the sole reason I added Lincoln to my list.
“Yeah, they do,” is all Wes says.
We’re both quiet as we eat the rest of the pizza and survey the stretch of grass before us. It’s a perfect moment—until it begins to pour.
We both scramble. Wes balls up the rapidly dampening blanket, while I grab the remains of our dinner. The two of us race side by side back to Wes’s car, eagerly clambering inside before we’re entirely drenched. Our wet clothes squeak against the leather seats.
“That was not in the weather report,” Wes grumbles as we stare at the heavy drops pummeling the earth.
I laugh at his disgruntled expression. “It was still my favorite birthday dinner,” I inform him.
“Can’t ask for more than that,” Wes replies as he turns on the car. Hot air flows out of the vents, warming the saturated fabric of our clothes. I pull off my winter coat, glad it deterred most of the water from reaching my clothes.
I lean back against the leather seat and watch the dark silhouettes of the trees flash by as Wes heads back in the direction of the cabin.
The song playing on the radio changes, and I smile when I recognize the introductory strains to “Shut Up and Dance” begin to play.
“I love this song,” I tell Wes.
He smirks ov
er at me. “Keeping up with all the current hits, huh?”
I roll my eyes.
Wes suddenly pulls the car over onto the shoulder of the road.
“Is something wrong with the car?” I ask him, confused and slightly panicked. How the hell am I going to explain what I was doing in Weston Cole’s car?
“The car’s fine. Get out,” Wes instructs.
“What?” I laugh. “It’s raining.”
“Listen to the song, Stevens,” Wes grins at me and climbs out of the driver’s seat.
“That’s the girl’s part,” I call out after him. I hear him laugh as I open my own door and climb out into the downpour.
I round the back of Wes’s car to see he’s opened the trunk, providing a slight respite from the precipitation and allowing the strains of WALK THE MOON’s song to drift through the SUV and outside to us.
“Dance with me, Maeve.”
I study him for a moment as the rain saturates my hair and begins dribbling down my face. I’m fucked. Completely and totally screwed.
Because Weston Cole is looking at me like he’s in love with me, and I’m already in love with him.
Finally, I comply with his request and walk underneath the makeshift canopy so I’m standing in front of him. He wraps his arms around me and spins me so my back is to his front. I lean back against him, letting him support most of my weight. We sway together, much more slowly that the beat suggests.
I watch the sheets of rain fall as I lean against the sturdy support of Wes’s body. I’ve always loved the rain. There’s something soothing about it. Refreshing. The way it rinses and cleanses everything. The way it leaves everything looking better than before it fell. The way it provides a fresh start. New opportunities. Endless possibilities.
The song ends, but neither of us move away. Wes doesn’t say anything. I’d think I was leaning against a wall, if not for the heat his body is exuding and the thud of his heartbeat against my back. It’s not until a car whizzes by, sending a spray of water that misses us by inches, that we both move.
Kiss Now, Lie Later Page 14