“I’ve just got to grab keys.” I walk over to the hook by the door where the keys for the sedan we share hang. I shouldn’t have even bothered hanging them up when I got home.
“You don’t need those,” Maeve tells me.
“You finally bought your own car?”
“Why don’tyoubuy your own car?” she counters.
I roll my eyes. “What’s your plan to get there if we’re not taking the car? My legs are dead from training yesterday. There’s no way I can bike.”
“Wes is outside. He’s coming with us.”
“Maeve…” I groan.
“I’m done with the separatist shit, Liam. I want to spend time with my boyfriendandmy friends. It will be fun.”
I highly doubt that. I won’t be the only one unhappy to see Weston.
“Not my fault no one likes him.”
“Bullshit. They’re following your lead, Liam.”
I don’t have a retort to that because I know she’s right, to some extent. Maeve sighs and heads out the front door. I trail behind her.
Weston is climbing out of a black BMW.
“What happened to your car?” Maeve asks, glancing between her boyfriend and what appears to be a brand-new SUV.
“You’re looking at it,” Wes replies.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. I went with my dad yesterday. Parting gift before he left.”
“Wow.” Maeve echoes my own thoughts. I know the Coles are wealthy, but this car must have cost fifty thousand dollars—at least. Maeve and I have been sharing the same ancient sedan since high school.
“Do you like it?” Wes asks.
“Yeah, of course. It’s just… I was kinda attached to the Range Rover,” Maeve replies.
Weston smirks at her, and something tangible passes between them. Something that alludes to activities I’d really rather not think about my sister doing withanyone, let alone an Alleghany quarterback. “This car’s backseat is bigger.”
Jesus Christ. I stride toward the car, not interested in listening to any more of their conversation. “If you guys keep talking like that, I’m going to drive myself.”
It’s what I should have decided to do in the first place, probably. It’s a seven-minute drive, though. I thought I could handle being around them for that long.
“Are yousureyou know what happens in backseats, Liam? You’re acting pretty immature right now, and kids don’t know that shit.”
I glare at Maeve. “You tricked me into spending time with him, andI’mthe immature one?”
“Tricked? You’re being ridiculous.”
“Uh-huh. You were right. This is a realblast,” I say.
I’m overreacting. I know I am. But her telling me I’m acting like a little kid only makes me want to dig in my heels and throw a tantrum.
Instead, I silently seethe as we climb into the car and Weston pulls out of the driveway, listening to them bicker as Maeve connects her phone to start playing some decade-old hit. She’s always had random taste in music. I stretch my legs out as the familiar scenery of Glenmont’s downtown flashes by to the sound of “Shut Up and Dance.”
The backseatisspacious.