Matt scoffs loudly, and I belatedly realize this was probably not the best place to start this conversation. Mr. Thompson is still writing quotes out on the board, so the entirety of my English class is eavesdropping on our conversation.
“You didn’t ‘hurt my feelings,’ Maeve. I’m disappointed in you. Even if he weren’t from Alleghany, Weston Cole is a total asshole. All he cares about is playing football and getting laid.”
“You just described a lot of teenage guys. Including yourself,” I retort.
Matt’s face flushes an angry shade of red. “Just don’t come crying to me when you fall for his charms, and he drops you for the next challenge. All I’ll have is a big fat told-you-so.”
I bristle. I’m sick of people assuming I didn’t know what I was getting into with Wes. That he somehow charmed me senseless. That I wasn’t an equal participant.
“Well, you can save your breath, because I ‘fell for his charms’, and he still stuck around.”
It doesn’t take long for me to regret my hasty words. Not only because I’ve just inadvertently implied—actually more like loudly announced—to my entire English class that I’ve slept with Weston Cole, but because Matt’s crushed expression makes it pretty clear I was right before. I did hurt his feelings by turning him down, and this latest revelation is salt in the wound.
Thankfully, Mr. Thompson chooses this moment to call the class to attention, and I look away from Matt’s angry, crestfallen face.
The rest of the day drags. I endure two more classes of stares and whispers, and then a long soccer practice of side glances from my teammates. I head straight to Sarah’s house from practice. Maggie, Brooke, and Sarah are all there already.
Maggie berates me for not telling her about Wes and then fires all the same questions at me that Brooke did at lunch. Her reaction is less disapproving, but she’s just as astounded by my revelations. The exception is when I reveal I encountered Wes again after the kitchen at the party this summer.
“I’m sorry. What did you just say? When you ‘went to the bathroom’ you were actually kissing Weston Cole? Un-freaking-believable,” she muses. “The one Alleghany party I take you to…”
Brooke asks her if there are rumors about me at Alleghany High, and I hold my breath as I wait for her answer.
“Uh, yeah,” she informs us. “It’s Weston Cole. People gossip about his lunch choices. Everyone’s talking about Maeve showing up at the party on Friday, and Wes going to Glenmont High.”
“Did you see him today?” I can’t help but ask.
“Once. In the hallway,” Maggie tells me.
“Did he look mad?”
“He didn’t look thrilled,” she responds. “No one at school will say a thing to his face, but I’m guessing he’s going to take some heat from the football team.”
I say nothing in response. Maggie leaves at eight, saying she has an “Alleghany commitment.”
Neither Brooke nor Sarah bother to ask for more details, and I don’t need to. I already know where she’s headed. Tonight is the Alleghany Athletics ceremony Wes told me about a few weeks ago. The reason he had to reschedule his trip to Lincoln.
I shower in Sarah’s guest bathroom, and then change into a pair of dark skinny jeans and a loose, light gray sweater.
We arrive at Chase’s house to find the party is already in full swing. Sam usually hosts the parties after football games, but Chase lives in Glenmont’s most upscale neighborhood, and has parents who don’t seem to mind housing hundreds of drunk teenagers, so he ends up hosting most of Glenmont High’s more notorious get-togethers. The start of Thanksgiving break is a classic blowout.
I walk through the entryway and toward the kitchen, hesitantly, even with Brooke and Sarah on either side of me. None of the Glenmont football players besides Matt have said anything to me about Wes directly, but I know there’s still plenty of speculation swirling.
“Shots, ladies?” Chase asks as we enter the kitchen. He’s converted the corner breakfast nook into a makeshift bar and has sprawled out along the booth with an expansive array of alcohol spread before him.
“Hell yes!” Brooke agrees, unsurprisingly. “Five-day weekend!” She downs the alcohol.
“I’m good,” Sarah replies, which is also predictable.
Brooke and Maggie have always been the wilder half of our quartet. Sarah and I have always trodden with more caution.
But I threw that into disarray a while ago.
“I’ll take one.” I hold my hand out.
I feel Brooke and Sarah’s eyes on me.
“Maeve, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Sarah asks cautiously.