Kiss Now, Lie Later Read online

  Maeve sends a pass to one of her teammates, and Glenmont goes up by three. Most of the guys have stopped watching by now, but they all remain seated, not willing to leave until I do.

  The game ends a few minutes later, and I watch as the Glenmont players all crowd around Maeve, hugging and cheering. For the first time since she saw my team arrive, she looks over at me. Green eyes meet mine, and we stare at each other for a protracted minute. Until Maeve’s coach approaches and draws her attention away from me. The Glenmont coach is clearly praising Maeve, and I watch as she smiles in response.

  Both teams line up for the traditional handshake. I’ve never seen one between Alleghany and Glenmont, only participated myself. I watch closely as Maeve works her way down the line, shaking each girl’s hand. She pauses to say something to Caroline, and then keeps going down the line.

  “Okay, boys, you’re free to go,” I call out. Most of the team rapidly disembarks from the metal bleachers, elated to be heading home an hour earlier than usual. Josh, Chris, Charlie, and Adam all remain in the stands beside me.

  “Letting everyone leave early?” Charlie asks. “You’re going soft, Cole.”

  I shrug. “Coach told me I could give you guys the day off, so technically I already made everyone stay later.”

  Chris laughs. “The truth comes out. I was wondering why you called it ‘optional’ in your text.”

  The two soccer teams start to pack up, and Caroline heads across the field over towards us.

  “I told you that you didn’t need to come,” she tells Josh. “And you brought the whole football team?”

  “It was Cole’s idea,” Josh informs her.

  Caroline looks to me, and I shrug. “You said no one cares about girls soccer. Figured you guys could use some additional support.”

  “That’s sweet, I guess,” Caroline responds. “But your time probably would have been better spent preparing to beat Glenmont yourselves. Obviously we weren’t up to the task. Again.”

  Just past the border of Alleghany is the imaginary line that bisects the state into its eastern and western sports conferences. Meaning we always only play each other once during the season. Both teams can’t advance. This was Caroline’s last chance to beat Glenmont, the same way our game against them in seven weeks will be Liam Stevens’ last chance to beat me.

  I glance over to the bleachers where Maeve’s family was seated, and experience another rush of irritation as I watch Matt Crawford give Maeve a hug before she greets her family. Both Liam and her mother hug her as well, but I watch as her father simply says something to her and then heads towards the parking lot. Anger towards him briefly overcomes my jealousy as I watch Maeve’s shoulders slump.

  “Cole, you coming?” Charlie pulls my attention back to my friends. “We’re going to grab some pizza.”

  “Yeah, I’m coming,” I reply, following after them.

  For once, Alleghany’s solitary pizza parlor is almost empty when we enter it. Most of the high school is still at afterschool activities, and it’s too early for any families. We settle in the large corner booth and order four extra-large pies.

  “Cheer up, C,” Josh says as he takes a long drink of the soda he ordered. “Your season’s barely started.”

  “Barely started. Basically over. Same thing,” Caroline replies, sipping at her water. “We don’t have any chance of making it to playoffs now.”

  “I thought you won both your first games?” Josh replies.

  “We did, but those were against two of the worst teams in the league. We had to beat Glenmont today.”

  “You were right. Stevens is crazy good,” Chris contributes. “That goal she scored? Insane.”

  “Yup,” Caroline replies morosely, and Josh shoots Chris a glare.

  “Sorry. Not helpful,” Chris says, catching on fast.

  “No, it’s fine,” Caroline tells him. “She raised it to a whole other level, and we weren’t ready. And she even congratulated me after the game.”

  “She did?” I enter the conversation for the first time.

  “Uh-huh.” Caroline confirms as the waiter sets down the steaming pizzas in front of us. The discussion changes from sports to other topics as we all devour the greasy food.

  My mother’s the only one home when I walk through my front door a couple hours later. I drop my heavy backpack in the entryway and head into the kitchen to find her chopping carrots.

  “Hey, sweetie,” she greets. “How was practice?”

  “It was fine,” I reply. “Coach was out sick today, so I made the boys run a few drills, and then we stopped by the girls soccer game.”

  “That sounds fun,” my mother replies.

  “I don’t think anyone else thought so. They lost. To Glenmont.”

  “Oh,” my mother says. She doesn’t follow a single sport, but it’s impossible to spend more than a day in Alleghany and remain oblivious to the town’s hatred of the one across the lake. “Well, I’m making dinner. It should be ready in about twenty minutes.”

  “I got pizza with the guys after the game,” I inform her. “But I’ll probably be hungry again in an hour or two if you want to set some aside.”

  “All right,” she agrees.

  “Where’s Dad?” I finally ask. My mother’s shoulders tense slightly. Our relationship is much more peaceful when we both pretend my father doesn’t exist.

  “He had a late work meeting,” she says.

  “Huh,” I reply. I have a feeling that’s not the case, and the tightness in my mother’s face suggests she doesn’t think so either. “I’m going to do some homework,” I tell her instead of voicing my suspicions, and I watch her slight frame visibly relax.

  “Okay, sweetheart.” I hate my father’s philandering has sullied my relationship with my mother, but I also can’t understand how she continues to turn a blind eye to it.

  I head upstairs after retrieving my backpack from the front hall. I shower, even though I barely exerted myself at practice, and settle at my desk to start on my assignments due tomorrow. But rather than the math equations I’m supposed to be solving, I keep seeing a pair of green eyes.

  I pull my phone out of my pocket, disregarding the messages and social media notifications displayed on the screen. I scroll through my contacts until I come to the three letters I saved Maeve’s number as. Huh. I grin when I see them. Rather than hit the message icon, or even the phone one, I tap the video symbol. I plug in my headphones, and the sound of ringing fills my ears.

  Each second that passes feels eons long as I wait impatiently for her to answer. As I hope she doesn’t.

  Suddenly, the phone connects, and there she is. Sitting cross-legged on a navy comforter, wearing my light gray sweatshirt and a look of complete shock. The girl I can’t get out of my head, and don’t seem to want to.

  “Good game earlier,” I say in greeting. There’s utter silence from her end of the line.

  “Uh, thanks,” Maeve finally replies. Her viridian irises are wide, and I grin to myself as I watch her fiddle with the messy bun that’s barely containing her blonde locks, trying to wind some of the stray hairs back into place. “I was surprised to see you there. Do you attend many Alleghany girls soccer games?”

  “That was my first one,” I admit.

  “You wanted to see them beat us?” she asks.

  “No, I wanted to see you play, Maeve.” Emotion flashes across her face in response to my honesty, but it disappears before I have a chance to discern which one. “Why have you been avoiding me since school started?”

  Maeve bites her bottom lip. “I–It seemed like it was for the best. It was one thing over the summer, but now . . . ” She lets her voice trail off.

  “I was the Alleghany quarterback this summer too, Maeve,” I reply. “That didn’t suddenly happen three weeks ago at the start of senior year.”

  “I know that, Wes,” Maeve replies. There’s some exasperation leaking into her voice now. “But it feels different now. It felt different when al
l the guys were complaining about your stats at lunch after I’d spent the night before kissing you in your car.”

  I can’t help but grin, and she rolls her eyes, obviously realizing what I’m thinking. My smile fades as the implication of her words sinks in. “So, that’s it?” I say quietly. I’m tempted to bring up what Charlie mentioned about her and Matt Crawford, but I refrain.

  “It’s not just the rivalry, Wes. We only just started our season, and Coach Bloom thinks I could play in college, so I’ve got a bunch of trips planned for that now, too.”

  “Where are you looking?” I ask, even though it’s none of my business.

  She rattles off a long list of colleges. “Uh, Arlington has shown some interest too,” she replies. I can tell from the way she says the last school’s name that’s where she really wants to go. I know it’s where Coach Stevens went and coached.

  “Any of them would be lucky to have you. You kicked some serious ass earlier, Stevens.”

  “Thanks, Wes,” she replies, almost shyly, and then silence falls between us. I let it stretch for a little while.

  “Well, I don’t think ‘see you around’ is the right parting phrase in this situation, but I can’t come up with anything else,” I finally say.

  Humor flashes in Maeve’s eyes. “I was going to go with, ‘It was nice kissing you.’”

  I laugh. “That works. Bye, Maeve.”

  I think I see regret in her eyes, but I’m not sure if it’s real or I’m projecting what I want to see. “Bye, Wes,” she says, and I end the call.

  Ending things between us is smart. But I can’t help but feel like it was stupid not to fight for us harder.

  chapter twelve

  Maeve

  I’ve lost it. Officially. It wasn’t when I spilled secrets to Weston Cole. It wasn’t when I let him kiss me. It wasn’t when I begged him to kiss me again. It’s right now. It’s the only explanation for why I’m still in Alleghany.

  After soccer practice ended earlier, I headed to Maggie’s house. I’ve barely seen her since senior year started, the first time we’ve been in separate schools since kindergarten.

  She pumped me for information about everyone in Glenmont, and then embarked on a prolonged soliloquy about Alleghany High. And I tried not to visibly wince every time she said the name Weston Cole. And she said it a lot.

  After making plans to see each other this weekend, I left, telling her I needed to head home for dinner. Which I do. I just somehow ended up at Wes’s house instead. At least I think it’s his house. We shared our locations with each other over the summer, and I’m banking on the fact he’s home right now. If this is actually some random Alleghany girl’s house I could be setting myself up for a very awkward encounter.

  It’s been a week since Wes showed up at my soccer game. With the entire Alleghany football team. All my teammates were pissed that they came. Not only because the Glenmont football team has never shown us that kind of support.

  I didn’t know what to think about their unexpected presence. Until Wes told me he came to see me play. With so much sincerity it was impossible not to believe him. With so much sincerity I had to get out. Because I was already in deep with Weston Cole. Deeper than I could believe I’d let myself sink.

  So, I panicked, and I pushed him away. I went back to being the reliable, responsible Maeve Stevens. Unfortunately, it turns out telling someone something doesn’t make you believe it.

  Do I think about Wes any less? No. Have I magically come up with a solution for the fact that the two of us together is a terrible, forbidden idea? Also no. But I’ve also come to the realization that it’s a terrible, forbidden idea I want more than I want to be steadfast and loyal. That I can’t banish Weston Cole from my mind.

  I bypass the house and park on the street a few doors down. Thankfully, Liam was out when I left, so I convinced my mom to let me borrow her car. No Glenmont Football bumper stickers. I lock the car and start along the sidewalk. It’s a beautiful neighborhood, not that I’m surprised. The wide, pristine sidewalk is void of any scuffs or cracks, and the grass lining it is carefully mowed and adorned with flowerbeds every dozen feet. I stop in front of the house where Wes is showing up. His Range Rover is parked in the driveway, along with two shiny Mercedes. The front yard is sprawling and immaculately maintained, and two massive oaks sit on either side of the brick walkway. All the lights are on downstairs, which is just starting to become necessary as dusk falls.

  Two lights gleam upstairs, and I study the house, weighing my options. Should I ring the doorbell? Text Wes? Leave?

  A slight, dark-haired woman comes into view through the downstairs windows. Her face is twisted in anger, and I watch as a man follows after her, also looking incensed. I dart forward, worried Wes’s parents are going to glance out on the lawn and see me standing there. I end up at the very periphery of their front flowerbeds. There’s a formal dining room on this side of the house, and a massive family portrait hangs over the fireplace. I let out a sigh of relief. At least I have the right house. And Wes’s car is here, meaning he’s home.

  My interest in encountering either of Wes’s parents disappeared as soon as I saw them arguing. Which strikes ringing the doorbell like a normal person. I study the roof that overhangs their front porch. I’d estimate it’s about fifteen feet off the ground, and the railing diminishes about half the distance. I creep through the mulch, and hoist myself onto the edge of the porch. I grab the corner beam and pull myself up onto the top of the railing. The worn sole of my sneaker slips on the smooth wood, and I curse. There’s no way I’d be able to explain breaking my leg in Weston Cole’s flowerbeds.

  Despite the anxiety and adrenaline racing through me, I persist. At this point, it would be just as perilous to turn back. I’m halfway there. I grasp the metal gutter and pull myself up until my elbow connects with the rough asphalt of the Coles’ roof. I swing one leg up, and use the momentum to roll my entire body up. I lay there for a minute, shocked. I can’t believe I came up with the idea to do this, and am even more amazed I managed to do so successfully. I just hope none of the neighbors happen to be looking outside.

  I crawl along the roof. I reach the first window, and carefully raise my head to peer inside. It’s a white tiled bathroom. The shapes of the sink and toilet are barely visible in the light cast from the hallway. I drop back down on my hands and knees to continue my slow progression across the asphalt. I stub my finger against the edge of one of the hard shingles, which sends a stabbing pain up my arm. I move forward tentatively, only to feel the shingle slide forward slightly with me. I sigh and grab it before I continue creeping along to the next window. I slowly sit up and glance inside. Bingo.

  Wes is sitting at a wooden desk, scribbling something in a notebook. I take a minute to study him, until I realize I’m sitting on his roof and this is not the best time to do so.

  I tap gently against the glass. Wes spins around, and looks understandably shocked to see me.

  He stands and walks over to the closed window, sliding it open when he reaches it. Rather than asking what the hell I’m doing on his roof, he grabs my forearms to help pull me over the sill and into his room. I half climb, half tumble onto a gleaming wooden floor. Wes’s strong arms are the only reason I stay upright. He must have just showered, because I can see droplets of water in his brown hair. The cedar and bergamot scent that’s begun to fade from his sweatshirt surrounds me as he shuts the window behind me.

  I huff as I straighten. “Your roof needs some work,” I inform Wes, handing him the stray shingle I picked up.

  “I’ll let my dad know. He might have some questions, though. Namely about what I was doing on the roof.” He gives me a questioning look as he tosses the shingle in the trash. “What are you doing here, Maeve?”

  I take a deep breath. “I want to talk to you. I–”

  There’s a knock on the door. “Wes?” A woman’s voice calls.

  I panic. Wes is mouthing words at me, but they seem to be spellin
g out total gibberish. I wave my arms at him, trying to wordlessly convey I have no idea what he’s trying to tell me.

  Finally, with an exasperated sigh, he grabs my arm and drags me over to the door. My eyes widen as he gently shoves me against the wall to the left of his door and then opens it, effectively shielding me behind.

  “We’re headed to the dinner,” Wes’s mother states.

  “Yeah, I heard you and Dad discussing it,” Wes replies.

  “Wes, please don’t start. I’ve had my fill of arguing for the night. You’re staying here?”

  “I’m staying here,” Wes confirms.

  “Okay.” Footsteps sound as Wes’s mother moves away from his doorway, and Wes shuts the door.

  “Your parents are leaving?” I whisper to Wes.

  “Yeah,” he replies. “Is that a problem?”

  “No, my timing just sucks. I saw them in the living room, which is why I climbed onto the roof. If I’d waited ten minutes I wouldn’t have had to risk my life, or at least my soccer career, to talk to you.”

  Wes snorts. “The porch is only ten feet high. I’m not sure how much damage you could have actually done.” I was slightly off with my estimate, apparently.

  “Feel free to climb it one day, you’ll see it’s not as easy as it looks,” I inform him.

  “I think I’ll probably keep using the front door,” Wes replies, smiling slightly. “So, what made you risk your life and soccer career to talk to me, may I ask?”

  I gulp. I was hoping to blurt it out to him as soon as I came through the window, so if he told me to get lost I could just climb right back out.

  “Maeve?” Wes prompts.

  “I didn’t mean it,” I tell him. “I mean, I did mean it, everything I said last week was true. But I don’t want this—us—to end. There are a lot of reasons why this is a really bad idea, but I can’t stop thinking about you, and I—”