I drive around town for about fifteen minutes before finally admitting my destination to myself.
His car is already there when I arrive. Somehow, I knew it would be. I pass the cabin and follow the now familiar path to the same fallen tree where I first encountered Weston Cole. If only my freshman year self had known what she was in for as a result of trying to hide out at that party. The scary part? I don’t think I would go back and change it. Any of it.
The log comes into view, and I trace the lines and curves of the familiar figure sitting in the darkness. The rain patters against the few stubborn leaves still clinging to the branches overhead. The wind soughs, swirling the air and whipping my hair.
I know he must have heard my approach, but Wes doesn’t say anything as I take a seat on the damp bark next to him. He does glance over at my choice of outerwear, but doesn’t comment on it. Or worse, ask for it back. It’s stupid, but I want him to see I’m not ashamed to wear his sweatshirt. That it’s not tainted from that night at Alleghany’s field.
“Thank you for coming on Tuesday night. And I’m sorry for how I acted. To be honest, I don’t remember parts of it, but Brooke assured me I said some stuff I definitely wouldn’t have sober.”
“You don’t need to thank me, Maeve. Or apologize.”
“Still, thank you. I needed you. And you came.”
“I’m sorry about kissing Emily. No matter what I thought you’d done, you were right. It was a shitty thing to do.”
“It’s okay,” I reply. It still smarts, but I don’t know what else to say. What his apology means. I’m worried he did more than just kiss her later that night, but I don’t know how to ask him. Don’t know if I want to know.
He looks over at me. “No, it’s not okay, Maeve. I should have believed you about Crawford. I do believe you. I just—this wasn’t supposed to mean this much, you know? You were right. I got scared. You scare me.”
Silence stretches between us, as impenetrable and thick as the dark woods surrounding us.
“How was your Thanksgiving?” I finally ask.
Wes lets out a short laugh. “Not great. Yours?”
“Quiet. Liam’s not talking to me,” I admit.
“He was calmer than I expected. At that party.”
I sigh. “I told him about us. Or that there used to be an us. After you showed up at practice. I knew there would be rumors, and I thought it would be better if he heard it from me.”
Wes doesn’t say anything at first. “It’s always going to be there between us, Maeve. This stupid fucking rivalry. I’ll always be from Alleghany and you’ll always be from Glenmont. Your brother will always resent me. Your father will never like me. Our friends will never get along. We live fifteen minutes apart, but it might as well be fifteen thousand miles. We were fooling ourselves, thinking this could ever work. I’m sick of sneaking around. I’m sick of wondering if I should tell you something. I’m sick of lying to my friends about where I’ve been.”
Tears begin sliding down my cheeks, and I hope it’s dark enough he can’t tell. Because he’s saying we’re—I’m—not worth it. And I thought we were. I think he is.
I want to throw his past words back at him. Tell him he shouldn’t allow other people’s opinions to define us. Call him a coward again.
But I’m so tired of fighting. Fighting and losing.
I stand and brush the damp forest debris off my leggings. “Good luck tomorrow, Wes.” I mean it. I don’t want Alleghany to win, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to wish Wes won’t.
I turn to make the trek back to my car.
“What did he say?”
“Huh?” I glance back at Wes, but he’s still staring straight ahead.
“Liam. When you told him about us.”
I’m brutally honest; I’ve got nothing left to lose now. “He was surprised. That you’d commit—to me. That you’d even care Matt kissed me. I told him he doesn’t know anything about you. And then he asked what you’d told me about the Eagles. And I told him you’ve never asked me the same thing about the Stallions.” Wes doesn’t say anything in response. I turn to go again. “You know, this wasn’t just your problem, Wes. You kissing me didn’t exactly make my life easier. But I’m still glad you did.”
This time I leave him sitting on the same mossy log where we first spoke two and a half years ago.
We’ve come full circle.
The following morning, Liam and I are eating our breakfast at the table silently when my father enters the dining room.
“I’ve got Crawford, Peters, and Williams coming in early to watch some extra footage, Liam. Finish up eating, I came up with a new play last night I want to run through.”
Liam nods, dutifully scooping up the last of his eggs.
“Why aren’t you coming to my game, Dad?” I don’t realize I actually said the words out loud until he and Liam both look over at me.
“What?” my father asks, looking startled.
“I asked why you aren’t coming to my game,” I repeat.
“We’re reviewing film,” my father replies. “We’re playing Alleghany tonight, Maeve. You know how important this is.”
“Yes, I do,” I acknowledge. “But you don’t seem to get how important soccer is to me. You’ve spent every waking moment for the past few months preparing for this game, but you can’t spare two hours to come to my last high school soccer game?”
“Maeve, of course I was planning to go. But that was before the game got rescheduled for today, and now there’s a conflict in the schedules. I didn’t have any control over the thunderstorm last week, or when the game was moved to.”
“The game didn’t get rescheduled for the same time as mine. You scheduled this film review at the same time.”
“Maeve, this is my job! I’m sure Alleghany isn’t taking the day off reviewing film. You can’t expect me to just because of your game.”
“Well, it would be nice if I could expect you to act like you have two kids, not just one,” I retort. “We may be twins, but we’re not interchangeable.” I stride into the kitchen, not bothering to wait for his response.
I’ve never said anything to my father before because I knew it wouldn’t make a difference, just like it didn’t just now, but I underestimated how freeing it would be to finally let my father know exactly how I feel about his blatant favoritism towards Liam and football.
The feeling of satisfaction fades when I realize exactly who I want to tell about this. The person who inspired me to say it in the first place. The boy who broke my heart last night.
I put my spoon and bowl in the dishwasher, and head upstairs to start getting ready for my game.
Liam appears in my doorway about twenty minutes later, hovering uncertainly. Things were already tense between us, and my outburst during breakfast has added extra layers of awkwardness. “Good luck,” he finally says.
“Thanks,” I reply, tying off one side of my French braid.
“Liam!” my father bellows from downstairs. “Let’s go.”
Liam disappears into the hallway. I finish braiding the other half of my hair, and then gather up my gear and head downstairs. I run into my mother on the front porch, just back from showing a house.
“You’re headed to the game already?” my mother asks, glancing at her watch.
“Yup,” I reply.
“Okay, I’ve got to make a quick stop at the office to drop these keys off, but I’ll see you at the game, all right?” I’m guessing the reassurance means she already spoke to my father.
“Okay,” I respond, heading towards the sedan.
The crowd of people at the field is unexpected. I’ve become accustomed to having about the same number of spectators as the roster of players on a basketball team. Last year’s final was an away game, so fans were especially limited. Thanks to our superior season record, we’re hosting Clayville today, and a vast majority of the hundred or so people gathered around the field are wearing Glenmont’s signature shade of mar
oon in support.
I drop my soccer bag off at the team bench. My teammates greet me with nervous smiles that don’t help to alleviate the butterflies fluttering in my own stomach. I don’t usually get anxious before games, but this is it. The final one. The one that really matters. Coach Bloom beckons me over.
“Ready, Stevens?” she asks.
“Absolutely,” I reply, projecting as much confidence in my voice as I possibly can.
Coach Bloom smiles at my response, but I think she sees through it, at least a little, because she squeezes my shoulder once before nodding towards the field. “Run them through the usual,” she instructs me. I nod once, before heading towards our end of the field. My teammates follow me without prompting.
I’m halfway through leading the warm-up stretches when I see him. He’s wearing all black and a baseball cap in an obvious attempt to look incognito, but it’s definitely him. I’d know those broad shoulders and that confident stance anywhere. What I don’t know is what he’s doing here.
“So, am I crazy, or is that Weston Cole at our soccer game?” Becca whispers from her spot next to me as we shift to sitting in the grass in order to stretch our hamstrings.
“You’re not crazy,” I reply.
Rather than serve as a distraction, Wes’s presence buoys me as the game starts. Just like the last time he showed up to watch me play, I want to impress him. Make this worth his while. It’s probably not the healthiest mindset considering we just officially broke up, but it serves me well on the field. It’s also the perfect antidote to the nerves niggling in my stomach. Brazen confidence washes them away.
I score the first goal of the game ten minutes in. After that, Clayville doesn’t stand a chance. We’re unstoppable. Becca scores right after halftime, and I manage to make a second goal fifteen minutes later. Clayville tries, but they can’t stop our momentum.
The final whistle sounds, and I’m swarmed. My ears ring with the screams and shouts of my teammates as we coalesce into one celebratory mass. The first thing I do when we detangle is glance at the spot where Wes was standing. He’s gone, and I try not to let the ache of disappointment infringe on the happiness bubbling inside me.
We line up for the familiar handshake, and as soon as Clayville’s team departs our spectators pour on the field. My mom is the first to reach me.
“Congratulations, Maeve! I’m so proud of you!” she tells me as she gives me a big hug.
“Thanks, Mom,” I reply, hugging her tightly.
Sarah and Brooke reach me next, both vibrating with excitement. Sarah grabs me first. I’m hugging Brooke when Maggie comes bounding over.
“Maeve! I’m so sorry I missed the game. Practice ran long, or else I would have been here sooner. Congratulations!” She gives me a big hug.
“Practice ran long?” Brooke asks when we pull apart. “You must miss the Glenmont team. We didn’t even have practice this week.”
Maggie groans. “You have no idea. We were supposed to coordinate with the football team to prepare for tonight, but apparently their captain’s meeting got moved and no one told us. Emily made us stay late to make sure we're ready. I swear, if the season wasn’t almost over, I’d be tempted to quit.”
I wasn’t sure if Brooke and Sarah saw Wes here, but the glances they both give me following Maggie’s words confirm they did. Because we all know who the captain of Alleghany’s football team is.
“What? What did I miss?” Maggie asks, tracking the direction of their stares.
My father and brother chose to go watch football film instead of coming to my game. My mother was fifteen minutes late thanks to her “quick stop” at the office. And Wes moved the Alleghany football team’s meeting on the day they’re playing Glenmont so he could come to my soccer game. I’m not sure whether to laugh at the irony, or start crying.
“Not what. Who,” Brooke replies. “A certain quarterback who apparently moved his entire team’s pre-game meeting so he could watch Maeve kick some ass.”
Maggie gasps. “Weston Cole was here?”
“You just missed him,” Sarah adds.
All three of them look to me. I shrug. “I have no idea why he was here. He dumped me last night. Again. Still. We’re done.”
Brooke scoffs. “Yeah, right.”
“What? You’re the one who said he’s a player and I was stupid to get involved with him.”
“That was before I saw you two together. Weston Cole is seriously smitten with you. He came to a Glenmont party to help you because you sent him a drunk text. Do you know how many guys I’ve sent drunk texts to? A lot. I don’t even know. How many do you think have shown up to see if I’m okay? That I do know. Zero.”
“He knows I don’t usually drink. I’m sure he just felt obligated. It’s not like he could text you or Sarah and check.”
“It seemed a lot more like love than obligation. I was dubious when you told us he said it. Because it means a lot more to act like it. I hadn’t had a chance to see it. But he does act like it, Maeve.”
One of my teammates rushes over to grab me for a group picture, and I say goodbye to my best friends. Honestly, I’m grateful for the interruption. I thought I’d finally settled where Wes and I stand. Him coming here? Brooke’s words? Sends things back into a disarray I’m not sure if I’m equipped for.
An hour later, I sit on the front porch stairs, sipping on a mug of steaming tea. The door opens and closes behind me.
“You want to tell me what’s wrong, Maeve?” My mother takes a seat next to me on the top step and gives me a searching look. “You should be thrilled after winning that game. You were incredible.”
I sigh. High school students aren’t the only gossips in this town. She’ll likely hear it eventually.
“I have feelings for someone . . . inconvenient.”
My mother nods once. “Weston Cole.”
I look over at her, surprised. “How did you know that?”
“Call it a mother’s intuition.” I raise my eyebrows. “And I may have found an Alleghany jersey with his name on it under your bed a couple weeks ago.”
“Yeah, I should probably burn that.”
“What happened?”
“We broke up. First because of a misunderstanding. But then, he said it could never work between us. That he was sick of lying and sneaking around.”
“So, why don’t you stop doing that?”
“That’s the point. We have.”
My mother laughs. “No, I mean stop lying and sneaking around. Let people know you’re a couple. Who cares what they think if the two of you are happy?”
“Mom. He’s Weston Cole.”
“He’s also the boy you have feelings for, right?”
“Yes,” I admit. No way am I dropping the l-word right now.
“That sounds more important to me than a high school rivalry. Your brother and father will get over it.”
“I’m not so sure about that. Besides, he doesn’t want me anymore.”
“Did he say that?”
“He said the rivalry will always be there. Between us.”
“So show him it won’t.”
“I don’t know how to do that. If I can do that.” I look down at the steam curling from my mug.
“Yes, you do.”
chapter twenty-six
Weston
I’m one of the first guys to arrive at the bus. I lean against one of the bleacher supports, staring out at our home field. It’s been cleaned, but I can still picture the horseshoes scattered all across it. At least the live version didn’t include Maeve kissing another guy.
“Cole! You ready to kick some ass?”
I turn to see Chris bounding towards me. He’s filled with the energy and enthusiasm I should have. I’m ready. I’m confident. But I’m not enthused.
“Absolutely.” I return my gaze to the grass.
“What’s going on with you now, Wes?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.” My voice is hollow. I’m wavering again, and I hate it
. I thought I’d feel relief when I told Maeve it was over last night. But all I’ve experienced since then is regret.
Chris studies my face, and I see the exact moment it dawns on him. “This is about her. I thought you said it is over.”
“It is.”
“But you don’t want it to be?”
“I don’t know.”
“Wes, you promised the team you would have your head on straight when it comes to this game. This is Glenmont we’re playing!”
“I know. I’m ready for the game,” I assure him.
“What are you guys doing over here?” Charlie asks, lumbering over to the bleachers.
“Just discussing how Wes is letting Maeve Stevens get inside his head.” Chris doesn’t hesitate to throw me under the bus, and I glare at him. He shrugs.
“I am not, for the record,” I tell Chris emphatically as Adam joins us.
“This have anything to do with why our meeting earlier was mysteriously moved to a time that didn’t conflict with the Glenmont girls soccer game?” Adam questions.
I didn’t expect anyone to put together the real reason I changed the time. “You’re keeping track of the Glenmont girls soccer schedule?”
“Caroline mentioned it to Josh.”
“Huh,” I employ my usual non-answer.
“I heard they won,” is Charlie’s contribution.
“Yeah, they did,” I reply unnecessarily.
“And . . . did you talk to her?” Chris asks.
“Of course not.”
“Why not?”
“Uh—because we just broke up?”
“Was Crawford there?” Charlie asks.
“Not that I saw.”
“He’s probably going to make another move on her, Cole.” I’m seriously regretting ever filling my friends in on what started the strife between Maeve and me. Because Charlie’s words prompt a new pang of regret. And make me glad I’m about to be in a position to cream Crawford along with the rest of Glenmont’s team.
“Let's go,” I say, turning and striding towards the bus. We’re the final players to board. I take the same seat I always do at the very back, and then we pull out of the parking lot, headed towards Glenmont.
Kiss Now, Lie Later Page 21