I don’t miss a beat. “The horse and the bird.”
He stares at me for a moment as the meaning sinks in. A slow smile starts to spread across his face until he’s grinning widely. “Damn it, I might actually like you, Maeve Stevens.”
I’m surprised to realize the feeling is mutual. Not just about Charlie, but all three of Wes’s friends. Once we stumble through the initial awkwardness, it’s shockingly easy to see them as three normal high school guys rather than the embodiment of the town and team I’m meant to hate. They banter and joke with each other easily as we finish the rest of the course. Despite the stares we’re receiving, no one else approaches us, and I’m grateful. I left my comfort zone when we crossed over the Alleghany town line.
I beat Wes by one point, and he doesn’t hesitate to remind me I said that was within the margin of error. I expect him to take me up on my offer of a rematch, but he doesn’t.
He says goodbye to Charlie, Chris, and Adam, tugs me over to the window to return our clubs, and then tows me to the parking lot. I barely have time to wave goodbye to his friends.
“Someone’s a sore loser,” I remark as we climb back into the car. “I wasn’t going to tease you about it. Much.”
Wes laughs as he turns back onto the road. “That’s not why I wanted to leave. I thought of somewhere else I wanted to show you.”
“What did—”
The rest of my question dies when Wes pulls over to the side of the road. Up ahead, I can see the thousands of twinkling lights Alleghany wraps around the pines framing the beach on their side of the lake each year for the holidays. It’s a beautiful view from Glenmont’s side of the water, but even more stunning up close.
“Wow,” I breathe. “It’s gorgeous.”
We walk hand in hand onto the sand. We’re not the only people here, but I’m too fixated on the dazzling display of lights to focus on anyone else. Except for Wes.
“Did you mean what you said at dinner? About going to the same college?” I ask as we walk along the beach.
Wes doesn’t blink an eye at my abrupt subject change. “Yes,” he replies immediately.
“That’s good to know,” I respond, smiling widely.
They’re the same four words he spoke before he kissed me for the first time, and I know the reference isn’t lost on him when he leans down and kisses me again.
I’ve kissed Weston Cole dozens of times by now. Hundreds. Maybe thousands. But I still experience the same dizzying rush I did the first time. The flood of heat. The sizzle of lust. The way the world disappears.
We pull apart and sit side by side in the sand. For the first time, we’re not confined to the small Fayetteville stretch by his uncle’s cabin. We’re out in the open, where anyone can see us. And we’re not alone. But it feels like we are.
I lean against Wes’s side, and he draws me closer.
We’re a living contradiction of the Alleghany-Glenmont rivalry. Because we disregarded it. Overcame it. Faced it. To most people, that wouldn’t mean much. For anyone who’s never lived in either town, it probably wouldn’t mean anything.
But to Wes? To me?
We know it means we can survive anything.
EPILOGUE
WESTON
I’m nervous.
I don’t reallygetnervous, which sounds arrogant. But the situations that incite nerves in most have always inspired confidence in me.
Playing in front of a sold-out crowd of hundreds of thousands? No problem.
Being interviewed on national television? Piece of cake.
But anything involving Maeve Stevens has always affected me differently. Still does, even after five years together.
She’s the only reason I’m driving past buildings that have become familiar. We’ve eaten together at the Italian restaurant on the corner. The real estate office where her mom, Stephanie, works is a couple of buildings down.
I pull off at the gas station that bookends the final block of Glenmont before the downtown section turns residential. There’s a middle-aged man on the opposite side of the pump, fueling his Volvo. I give him a small nod of acknowledgment before unscrewing the fuel cap and swiping my card.