“Do you want me to come with you?” Sarah offers.
“No, no, it’s fine,” I’m quick to say. The last thing I want is to be trapped in a car with Sarah right now. The only person who knows about Wes. I’m sure she has questions after the spectacle earlier. “Have fun, guys.”
I give them both hugs and head outside into the rain. Maggie’s already sent me the address, and I plug it into my phone’s GPS and start driving.
As soon as I pull up outside the stately house, she rushes off the front porch and toward my car. I don’t look over as she opens the passenger door and climbs inside. I’m too busy staring at the house. It’sthehouse. The location of the Alleghany party Maggie dragged me to at the start of the summer. And Wes’s black Range Rover is parked in the driveway.
I turn off the car.
“Uh, what are you doing?” Maggie asks. Her voice is filled with confusion.
“I’ll be right back.”
The thunder has stopped, but the rain still hasn’t. I’m drenched as soon as I step out of the car, but I don’t care. I do waver for a minute, though. Based on our last conversation, this could be bad. But I need to see him.
I haven’t tried to call or text Wes since last night. I’m worried he’s blocked me. But mostly, it’s because I know this is a conversation we need to have in person.
I can’t watch another repeat of tonight, and if nothing changes between us before the next game, I know that’s exactly what it will be. This is my best chance at talking to him in person. I can’t show up at Alleghany High, and I don’t want to risk going to his house again. The last Alleghany party I attended, no one but him gave me a second glance. I hope that’ll be true tonight.
I march up the brick path and inside, on a mission now. I recoil slightly at the wall of noise and exuberance that greets me when I open the front door.
“Maeve!” Maggie calls behind me. Her shout attracts a few glances, but I forge ahead. He’s not in the living room. I head into the kitchen. Not here either. I spot an Alleghany football player heading toward a door around the corner.
He opens it, revealing a set of stairs he heads down. I follow him.
The basement is better lit than the first floor. Bright enough for me to see Alleghany football player after Alleghany football player. But not the one I want to see.
There’s no music playing down here, just a babble of voices, although the bass pounding overhead is audible. I reach the bottom of the stairs and am about to turn around to go back up, when I see him.
He’s slouched against the wall in the corner, and there’s a girl draped over him.
His gaze meets mine, and then he bends his head and kisses her.
I feel all the blood drain from my cheeks. It’s a slap to the face. A blow so forceful I’m surprised I don’t stumble.
I said it first. That I couldn’t forgive cheating. And he’s doing it in plain sight for everyone to see.
For me to see.
He might as well have just stabbed me. It feels like he did. And the wound bleeds out all the guilt, angst, and uncertainty I’ve felt ever since Matt kissed me.
All that’s left behind? Fury. He pulls away from the girl to take a sip of beer, and his beautiful blue eyes meet mine defiantly.
I finally hate Weston Cole, but it’s for all the wrong reasons. I don’t hate him because I’m a girl from Glenmont and he’s a boy from Alleghany. I hate him because I was stupid enough to think our hometowns didn’t matter. Dumb enough to give the last person I should have the power to hurt me.
There are a lot of things I could say or do right now, but most of them would stoop me down to his level. And I refuse to do that. Because he’s the one in the wrong here, not me. Regardless of what he thinks.
But I’m not going to let him think this is acceptable.
Let him assume he can treat me this way.
“You’re a fucking coward, Weston Thomas Cole!” I don’t raise my voice above a normal volume, but there’s enough wrath in my tone the basement goes mostly silent. I’m staring at Wes too intently to register anyone else’s reaction. I watch him flinch, and I know that my pointed words have found their mark.
I spin and start up the stairs, bypassing Maggie, who’s standing there with her mouth agape. She scrambles to follow me as I push back through the teenagers partying in the living room and emerge outside.
I’m not sure if the water streaming down my face is rain or tears. Probably a combination of the two. I climb back into the car, and I’m glad I have a few seconds head start on Maggie. It gives me time to scroll through my phone. She climbs in the car, and I press play on the first song I see. The intro to “Dancing on my Own” by Robyn thrums out of the speakers. The lyrics are eerily fitting.
“I’m guessing you don’t want to talk?” Maggie asks when she climbs inside. I can barely hear her over the loud music.